Red, sure. But also pink and yellow and purple and white and…

This past weekend was the annual Parnell Rose Festival. Although this is our third year living just up the street, we hadn’t made it to the festival before. One detail I’d never noticed before was how the big container ship unloading cranes loom in the background. It’s kind of cool about Auckland that a lot of things are close like that, but it manages not to feel crowded.

Anyway… back to the festival. The roses are at their peak, which was just lovely. The festival brings out dozens, maybe hundreds of people smelling, photographing, and enjoying the flowers.

And hundreds more bring their kids for games and face painting and so on.

And thousands more who crowded into the food truck area to stand in line for overpriced and dubious quality eats. Go figure.

Rites of spring

This pink tree is definitely one of the nice early signs that spring is around the corner. The birds love these flowers.

Running through Cornwall Park yesterday… no dogs, please, it’s lambing season. It’s pretty great to have this park, totally available to the public, in an otherwise ordinary suburban neighborhood just a few miles from downtown.

Into every life a little rain must fall*

Suddenly, it started to rain! Hard!

Even the rickshaw guys took refuge.

Within minutes, the poncho vendors appeared. And it works, the micro-economy works efficiently. Yay!

But we are seasoned travelers because we had already bought ponchos in a Bali downpour– and left them behind. So we knew how to ride out the storm…

* the post title is actually a quote from Longfellow, but to me it’s the slogan of a mortuary in LA that advertised on bus benches when I was in high school.

It’s beginning to look a lot like summer

We wonder how native Australasian people feel about the changing seasons … for us, when the days get short and cold, the leaves fall, the snow flies, we think of Christmas. But Christmas here is when you can finally swim in the ocean without a wetsuit, when it’s light till almost 10, and so on. Does the thrill translate, or does the magic of Christmas rely somehow on the whole winter solstice idea?

Winter is coming

On the way to work the other morning. The part of the day where you can be comfortable in shorts is getting really limited now.

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