The weather radar proved perfectly accurate last Sunday afternoon… we could see a gap in the storms timed perfectly for a game of pétanque. A few points into the optimistic second match the heavens opened up (as predicted) and we dashed into the clubhouse just in time. Soon enough the perfectly manicured bowling green looked like a pond.

This continued the recent trend of warm and soggy weather… last month we were about 150% of normal rainfall and nationwide it was 1.8 C (3.2 F) above the long-term average… edging out last year as the warmest November on record.

The swim group got up extra early last Sunday so we could get in a workout before retiring to the Speaker’s Corner pub to watch the England-France World Cup game.

At a pub in a former British colony and current Commonwealth member, named for a London landmark, you’d expect the crowd to be British supporters, and they were. A few of us had divided Franco-British loyalties. But the one true French person among us wandered off to savour France’s win at the La Tropezienne bakery down the street.

Somehow I’ve started following the local Alliance Française on Facebook (I think it’s somehow extra funny if you say Facebook with a silly French accent… try it and see!) That’s how I learned about their quarterly market.

So we went, and it was nice! Bought a baguette sandwich and a couple of Yankee Swap presents for the pétanque club party.

Before…

and after…

This photo, shared by the members of our local district council, perfectly explains why we didn’t go to the Birkenhead Santa Parade yesterday.

Full marks to the organizers and the impressive number of spectators for not letting the downpour, er, dampen their enthusiasm.

It’s that most wonderful time when the streets and hillsides of Auckland light up with the white buds and gold-tipped red brush flowers of the pohutukawa trees.

… for the bounty of the earth by trying to eat everything. Everything!

Here we are at Martha’s Backyard, the funny little American grocery store, posing proudly next to a tower of pumpkin pie filling.

And here’s the turkey, a nice sized bird from the local butcher that came out really good thanks to Lee’s dry brining technique. (We’ve had a few good experiences at the butcher shop, and every time we resolve to shop there more. But then we’re in the supermarket which is open late on Sunday and it’s just easier.)

We were 10 at table, drawn from four different communities: Lee’s former workmates, my ocean swimming buddies , my pool swimming buddies, and a Facebook group for expats. It was the biggest NZ Thanksgiving gathering yet. Mostly American, or at least with ties to the good ol’ USA, we enjoyed a great meal and each other’s company.

The best part was that when the discussion inevitably turned to “American is going to hell in a hand basket because of Trump & Co”, we were mostly in agreement and even on the points of disagreement it didn’t matter so much cause it’s not your actual family.

Our backyard after a recent storm. The locust tree sheds a lot.

Last year at this time, the whiskey barrel planter in our shared driveway played host to Auckland’s weirdest costume contest.

This year, neighbor Claire planted lovely foliage instead.

Sadly, the little phone company protrusion that the barrel protects is still there, because the neighbors at the top of the hill have been unable to get their new optical fibre connection put in. The company that does all that fibre stuff is called Chorus, and even before the pandemic gave them an excuse to say “short staffed” they were one of the most hated businesses in town. It must be tough to be in that kind of business, because despising them seems almost universal.

(Edited following comments from an eagle eyed reader)

Those feet in the middle of the picture are obviously less dainty than those of our friend Leslie who visited from Florida a couple weeks ago. Nonetheless, they are indicative of her hot water beach experience. We were among the last to leave the hot pool as the tide came in.

Hot water beach is a funny little place… just a quirk of nature that “hot springs “ and “beach” come together as they do. In my experience, people at the beach tend to sort of be alone together… you do your sunbathing and I’ll do mine. Hot springs are maybe a little more convivial. But put the two together and it’s a wonderfully social experience. From cooperating on diverting the hot water just enough into everyone’s little sand nest, to the loud Texas tourist lecturing everyone on the Second Amendment, to some subversive ladies telling the Texas tourist’s kids not to listen to their father’s crap (don’t worry, said the kids), we were all in the soup together.

And on the way home the following day, we stopped off at a roadhouse for lunch, and got to see these cute little lambs.

That mosaic along the retaining wall , designed by neighbor Nick and executed by other neighbor Kristie (and little Georgia who mostly likes the bright colors), was originally imagined to be the work of an afternoon.

Not quite!

It will look really cool when it does get finished.