LETTERBOXES

After days and days of rain the sun came out this morning. I was out the door with my walking shoes on as soon as I'd finished the most essential morning chores. It seems ages since I've been out. The sky was a hazy blue and the sun bright and warm.  Steam wafted up from the road, fence posts, letterboxes, anywhere the sun hit. We're paying for it now. A huge bank of white mist has rolled down the harbour and engulfed us. Good bye sun, hello cold and dreary.

I took my camera with me today, not sure of what I'd snap, but this letterbox and gate caught my eye. So I spent the rest of my walk sniffing out unusual or pretty letterboxes.

I do like the hand painted ones and the red one with the oriental 'roof' is nice too - anything red always attracts me. This bottom one, however, is what I would like for our own home.

What's your favourite?

Right, it's back to the writing for me. Have a great weekend!

MISTY MONDAY

Today Dunedin has been plunged back into the depths of winter. The temperature has plummeted and snow is predicted above 500m. Rain has been falling since yesterday and there are no signs of it abating. The best thing about this change is the mist. It lends an eerie air to the world outside my window.

Weather can almost be a cliche when you match it to the events in a novel, but it really does add a layer of atmosphere. Or if the weather clashes with events, that too can add texture: A sinister event in a bright clear day with birdsong on the air; a happy ever after ending to a romance punctuated by a violent thunderstorm has possibilities too.

Mist or fog lends itself to mysteries, but it has a shut-in effect too, which could be translated into cosiness, or security - as long as the protagonist is safely inside or at least near a fire!

And that's where I am today. Inside with the fire roaring, feeling like the only person on earth. Outside everything is drenched in rain and mist and the hills have disappeared.

I need to write a romance for an upcoming competition. Today the weather has put me in just the right mood.

Does the weather effect your writing?

Here's a few photos I just snapped over our back fence.

   

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EARLY MORNING DRIVE

This morning, for the first time in months, I did the school run and although I did a little internal moan about having to go out so early - the oldest needed to be there before eight! - it was a beautiful drive.

The last few days have been wet so the world was all dewy and dripping, but the sky was cloud free and tinged with tones of gold and copper. We dropped off the oldest at the polytech's training restaurant - he's taking a test, making vegetarian panini's - and skirted the Logan Park playing fields. White mist hung over the grass so that I could almost imagine it had returned to its original existence - Lake Logan.

With Dunedin's huge roofed stadium behind us we passed the concrete business where several bright yellow trucks stood, churning their contents while they waited for the time when they could regurgitate their wet stony load.

Almost completing the circuit around the playing fields I dropped my daughter at her school, which is nestled between bush clad hills. Then it was time to head back home, more relaxed with no deadline to meet.

Coming up the valley a bright yellow halo hung over the hill where the sun was about to appear. Driving up that same hill I looked across to Mt Cargill where threads of fog clung to the crevices and a cloudy blanket covered the top, shrouding the television mast.

Finally at home and I was delighted to see that the tree at the bottom of our drive has blossomed with tiny white flowers, seemingly overnight. I parked the car, turned off the ignition and sat for a moment, savouring the peace and the wonderful warmth from the very effective heater.

At last I stepped out to be welcomed by the crowing of a nearby rooster; a new day has dawned.      

Blossom at the bottom of our drive.

Mt Cargill from our lounge window. The fog has lifted and sky turned cloudy in the time it took me to write this!

Mention of Lake Logan has got me thinking. It has a fascinating history  - I'll see what I can dig up and tell you about it next week.

Have a great weekend!

 

THE MYSTERY OF THE INCOMPLETE STORY

Yesterday I was looking through my folder of short stories when I came upon one entitled, 'Sarah'.

I stared at the title for several minutes trying to remember what on earth this one was about, but failed. So I opened the document and read it. There was just over a page and I really rather enjoyed it, except for one glaring ommission: there were no notes outlining the complete story! I do recollect the opening scene now and even some of the subtext, but where to from here - who knows?

Note to self: Make notes on the beginning, middle and end of every story.

Has this ever happened to you?

As a side note, winter appears to be packing its bags. In the garden, shrubs are flowering and bulbs are pushing up through the earth. The grass is growing and looking so lush that a couple of sheep broke through our back fence to mow it for us. Helpful creatures!

Well, it's back to the writing for me. Have a great day wherever you are.

A flowering shrub in our garden.

The silver birches still look wintery, but there are buds forming on the tips of the branches.

QUEEN VICTORIA

From the drawing rooms of London to the far flung corners of the British Empire and even in the saloons and log cabins of the Old West, (where, of course, she never reigned) the later half of the nineteenth century is simply termed Victorian. As you will know, if you've read any of my previous posts, I love the Victorian era

Map of the British Empire, 1886.

Almost everything I've written has been set in this era. There is just something about it that draws me in. I easily dream up characters and plots anchored in this time period. Early New Zealand settlers, bush rangers, Western outlaws, ranchers, English society ladies, Scottish sheep farmers, gold miners or maids.   

I love the fashions: pocket watches, waist coats, bustles and petticoats.

The blossoming of technology as we know it: telegraph, telephone, steam ships and trains.

This is very similar to the S.S.Iconic - the ship that Amelia travelled on to Dunedin.

In Dunedin, Queen Victoria is immortalized by this wonderful statue perched on the edge of Queen's Gardens: a small park in the city's centre.  Not surprisingly it's one of my most loved statues.

The orb in her hand is the subject of much hilarity in our family. When my sons were younger, every time we drove passed the statue they would point out her 'holy hand grenade'!

I can almost hear her reply: "We are not amused."