This may be a lousy representation of my month as a whole, but I think it’s a fairly good visual metaphor for my flu-addled state right now.
I’m not likely to get a proper Changing Seasons post up for a few more days, but for all the fit folks who have their monthly round-up ready, go ahead and ping-back to this post and when I get a full post up I’ll copy the blog roll to that too.
About The Changing Seasons
The Changing Seasons is a monthly challenge where bloggers around the world share what’s been happening in their month.
If you would like to join in, here are the guidelines:
The Changing Seasons Version One (photographic):
Each month, post 5-20 photos in a gallery that you feel represent your month
Don’t use photos from your archive. Only new shots.
Tag your posts with #MonthlyPhotoChallenge and #TheChangingSeasons so that others can find them
The Changing Seasons Version Two (you choose the format):
Each month, post a photo, recipe, painting, drawing, video, whatever that you feel says something about your month
Don’t use archive stuff. Only new material!
Tag your posts with #MonthlyPhotoChallenge and #TheChangingSeasons so others can find them.
If you do a ping-back to this post, I can update it with links to all of yours.
Please check out the Changing Seasons — May for these awesome bloggers:
Paraglider, Kariotahi Beach, Waiuku, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2018
Gannet in flight. Image courtesy of the Big T
Gannet in flight. Image courtesy of the Big T
Old-school hang-gliding, Kariotahi Beach, Waiuku, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2018
Gannets, Muriwai Gannet Colony, Auckland, NZ. Image: Su Leslie 2018
I’m not great with heights (or danger), so while part of me would love to experience the world the way that flying birds do, I don’t think I’ll be signing up for any of the adventure sports that involve hurling myself off a cliff with some ropes and a big hankie to keep me safe.
The boy-child; healthy, happy and rocking the pink onesie. Image; Su Leslie 1998
Don’t you love looking at old photos of your kids?
I remember taking this shot, and more particularly remember my mother’s reaction to me dressing her grandson in pink (and lavender, lime green, red …)
That was over 20 years ago, and I had thought such outdated notions of gender-based clothing (not to mention toys, games, behaviors, etc) was steadily being consigned to the dustbin of history. Then last week I had a conversation with my sister in law about how her mother complains that my four year old niece is always dressed “like a boy” — in blue!
I live in a country that earns quite a sizeable portion of its living out of being breathtakingly beautiful.
It is true that these days human impacts on land and water are beginning to show, and we’re increasingly like a hung-over media celeb, relying on Photoshop to pixel over the cracks. But it’s still relatively easy to turn a corner or crest a hill and find a vista so beautiful you can be forgiven if you forget to breathe.
I wouldn’t say I’ve become inured to such beauty, but if I’m honest, what really takes my breath away these days is the appalling ease with which my fellow New Zealanders (and some of the paid guests we’re taking in to help pay the bills) feel it’s ok to desecrate our environment. Apart from the terrible damage inflicted on landscapes, waterways, eco-systems and wildlife, it’s biting the hand that feeds.
This is death by a thousand cuts; dumping litter, over-fishing, clearing forests to create dairy farms, freedom campers who (literally) leave their shit behind, people who turn every available patch of grass on a beach reserve into a de facto car park because someone else did it first, a national mindset that says dairy farming and tourism are GOOD FOR GROWTH and let’s not look too closely at the negative impacts … the list goes on.
As always, the prescribed treatment for my chronic environmental grump is to get out the door and connect with the little miracles of nature that also take my breath away.
Pohutukawa flowers. Image: Su Leslie 2018
Bee and blossom. Image: Su Leslie 2017
Redwoods Tree Walk, Rotorua. Image; Su Leslie 2019
Exposing the inner workings. Eroded sea-shell. Image: Su Leslie 2018
Every day we should hear at least one little song, read one good poem, see one exquisite picture, and, if possible, speak a few sensible words. — Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
I’m a bit short of sensible words at the moment, except to suggest you listen to A Girl Named Mo, with the band Fly My Pretties, sing Mud and Stardust. Music, poetry and, if you close your eyes, it may conjure up some exquisite mental pictures too.
Lucky is the moon that comes and goes Many are the reckless who sell their souls Faultless is the wind, heartless is the cold Merciless, merciless give me something I can hold When plenty are the doubts that cloud my mind Countless are the chalices of lilac wide Cruel is the taste so bitter to the tongue Merciless, merciless, time is wasted on the young