Bits and pieces

 

Found this growing out of the chaos that is the front garden. It's a rugosa rose, Agnes, the only yellow rugosa. It's growing in a stupid place and I don't know why I planted it there, hidden by an aggressive pittosporum and a rhodie.

 

Very hot day yesterday, good for doing what I call 'big washing' - things like bedspreads and duvets. The weather changed about 6.00, and I took this picture of a thunderhead coming up over next door. Today is much cooler, a good day for doing some painting. I'm redecorating the "smallest room in the house". Someone many years ago painted a mural on the wall that faces the loo; it's been painted over but the paint is so thick you can still see it. Looks like the work of some maniac or druggie in the grip of a delusion that he was a great painter. Sadly, this is New Zealand; if it was Italy it would be the work of a great 13th century master (Cimabue preferably) and would be worth restoring, probably re-writing a whole chapter in the history of art, (although great artists usually didn't paint on toilet walls, unless it was the Pope's) but not in this country.

 Some would say that NZ is lucky as we have so little history, but to me it often feels like people don't really belong here. People rave about the beauty of NZ, but it's a cold beauty that cares nought for humankind. The hand of man has not softened it with caring husbandry; probably the reason why we do the gothic horror/psychological thriller stuff so much in our movies. ("The cinema of unease" its been called). An Irish friend described the landscape as 'bleak', which really puts it in a nutshell.

Hmm. Once again I have waffled on. Time to do some housework. Again.