I hear them before, I see -

my view is not of the tide.

Calling out to each other

to stay together.

Then at a distance,

darkening the sky and

following instinctive maps

to far away places

the ancient migratory trail.

My people are going,

fading, shrouded in mist.

No step now the worn sill

no peer through the grim.

Planting done, collected in

stones lapping, omens seen

but more, whole for ever.

Been.

Hanging outside my front door is this picture of the mud flats with a meandering stream in the foreground, the main channel and Hillsborough across the other side and lastly the heavy sky. Acrylics on Board. Because I am looking at the Manukau in detail again I thought I would post this and remind myself of it. So often one walks past things without looking.

These nine pictures are the start of a small trial using mud from the Manukau Harbour, to see what happens when combined with other materials such as charcoal, ink, pastels and pencils. What you are not aware of is the marine smell, quite strong but not unpleasant, and when the mud was micro-waved until it boiled the smell went throughout the house. (I just said the tide must be out!) I will try various fixatives before attempting to add other materials. So far these are just the heated and cooled mud, natural colour. When I first did it there was some dark grey but I think that was oxygen deprived and it disappeared when stirred.

Taken from post number 80 Eairdmore on monday April 20th. Thought I should try pencils again, they seem to be the flavour of the month. This journal page is 250 x 180, the sketch a little smaller.

I wanted to try yet again and get this image drawn, it is taken from the third posting I did on this blog, almost at the beginning. This is a little more what I wanted but still not quite right. There is not enough difference between light and dark, the pile is not right either. Guess there might be another try later on. 200 x 130.

Hull Road 1951

We lived just a Mother’s call away from a
white sandy beach and a stream running to the sea.
Close enough to hear the wind in the dark pine forest.
Summer almost eternal,
but winter came and bought chilblains,
broken glass on puddles, echoing voices, other times.
Mimi squelching Sidle jelly between the fingers.
Firsts happened here, sheltered lessons of life.
Returning many times, I do not see the changes.
It is a feeling for the place. A healing.
Immigrants we were and are, invisibly tied forever.
Mt. Maunganui before the world went mad.

I have had a trial at changing the blog width, and the line height. Maths has never been my strong point and already I have numbers missing and what's more the old brain cannot be trusted to retrace the steps back. Ahhh well. I'll let myself get used to this format and see how it sits over time. In this tropical cyclone I have just had watercare in and they have dug up the storm water drains and will return middle of next week to take photos and see what the trouble is. Meanwhile there is mud.