Goodbye, goodnight

We prepare now to leave Golden Bay. Over the weekend, we partook in a celebration. Throughout the evening, we spoke with locals, transplants, hippies. They spoke a recurring mantra: we love it here not for one aspect, but many. We hitched from Takaka with an US expat couple. They did not follow jobs, they enjoyed the quality of life and community, and the job followed. The are now designing sustainable housing and communities. Everyday is the same, the sun shines, it grows hot, and then clear nights. At the party, a roaring fire (by permit) incited howling, dancing, singing. They leave stressful jobs, home countries, or feel the demand to return home, rich and poor alike, meld, find the life, find the community they love, for which the have searched. A light dust covers their eyes, not just from the drought and dust. We will shake the dust from our shoes, clothes, and shake the ennui from our eyes.

Verbosity

A something occurred today which provoked a thought: we are all subject to our own grandeur. One measures importance by one's own importance, or perceived importance to others.
We are leaving golden bay in a week. We will be traveling to Nelson for a week, then to Levin, then to Gisborne.

Figs

Figs, not dates (too cold and wet for dates), which the hosts, thus us as well do not dry. I have been spending my moments off putting bags over exposed fig bunches to protect them from the birds. It is funny to see these birds inspecting every fig on the tree. They peck and prod, chirp, poop, then jump to the next branch, and repeat. Eventually they, locate a ripe one, and begin to peck vigorously, wherein I come running out yelling, they scatter, allowing easy collection of the slightly damaged, but ripe fig. Needless to say, I cannot guard the figs when working in the mornings, thus the bags. SO think of this as you sit down to eat your dinner on Thursday, it will be Friday morning for me, and I will be eating figs.
Kelsey can find her own.

Kelsey did find...

She has found the luxury of chestnuts. Late at night, we boil them while eating dinner. The alarm sounds, we cease the silly romantics of staring deep into each others eyes under the falling twilight, and lose ourselves in the warm, sweet floury insides.

Totally Localized Easter

A public mass in the town park, and a market of, stating "Totally Local" products at the primary school. A bumper sticker reading "I think, therefore I am single" in a grove where we met the goose, completely interested in my apple, wagging its tail as it begged. After the core was finished, the goose finished with us, and us with it. Sunday bests of attire suitable enough to risk stains from ice cream or iced coffees in the park, or chocolate cakes and waffle treats at the school. We think this appropriately describes this Bay. Oh, and no howling, but plenty of acoustic music at both locations, though the padre was amplified.