Standing on water in Lake Wanaka at sunset.


Recently, I have begun to feel the familiar pull. It's a tugging somewhere in the area where my ribs don't quite meet, and it happens as often as I drive to and from work - given the time to think about home and about family. 

Yesterday, I thought to myself, If it were really my last day on Earth, what would I do? The answer surprised me somewhat. I did not want to go skydiving, nor buy a one-way ticket to see the pyramids, or any of that crap. What I wanted was mundane, even; a long conversation with my family and friends over Skype, to tell them how much I love them, and how they have shaped my life so poetically. I also thought of other mundane things I would do: go outside all day, watch the birds and touch the grass, eat the most beautiful fruits and cheeses and drink the most heavenly wines, spend time with Ollie, walk, meditate, read a part of a favourite old book. All of these things are obviously extremely important to me.

It's funny, the memories I cherish most are either of one extreme or the other: 

- times when I was completely alone.

- times when I was utterly engaged in the company of people.

 Me and the gang in a tree by Lake Wanaka.
 Bare trees beside Lake Wanaka.
 Lake Wanaka in the winter light.
 Driving NZ roads to Wanaka - mountains on either side.
 Skimming stones in the lake.
 Finding small treasures.
 A feather and blue water.
 Dannin jumping out of a tree.
 Faith at the playground in Wanaka.
 Zoe at the playground.
 A real kiwi classic - the mince pie.
 Sunset casting light over the autumn trees on the shores of Lake Wanaka
 Walking on water - lake wanaka.
 Pink skies over houses in Wanaka.
 The milky way and autumn trees, NZ.