These Days ... the Golden Bay Days.

This morning, I woke at 5am … a new normal, possibly inspired by being in bed early. A response, perhaps, due to incredibly early morning starts at my job but there’s also the fact that we’re beginning the long slow journey away from the shortest day. Long nights, that are cold … that inspire me to make my first task of the day breathing life back into the fire that we bank to last through the night.

Below, here are some photographs that give you a sense of this north coast of the South Island, life … in winter.

Another departure from all those other lives I’ve lived, is making a wee loaf of bread before the sun comes up.

A dear friend, called Jeanie, gifted me the simplest of bread recipes. One I will share here for you, if you have a love of white bread … a love that should surely be hidden in these days of sourdough and grain breads :-)

450ml warm water, 1 teaspoon of honey (or sugar) dissolved into the water.

2 teaspoons of yeast (I use Bakels Instant Active Dried Yeast), sprinkled over top of the warm water and honey mix. Do not stir, Leave for 15 minutes until frothy. (mine only goes a little frothy)

450g white (or wholemeal flour - I use organic), 1 tsp salt, mixed into the flour.

After 15 minutes, stir wet mix into dry. Stir for 5 minutes, until mixture starts to pull away from the sides of the bowl.

Grease bread tin and warm it slightly, then pour dough mixture into the tin. Cover with plastic wrap and leave to rise for 30 minutes, or so.

Bake 30 minutes at 180 celsius

It’s ready when it sounds hollow after you tip it out and tap the bottom (this step has never really happened for me but I like the bread I get at 30 minutes.)

I use all organic products, bar the yeast (and it may be anyway) but my body handles digesting this wickedly good bread better than any bread I have eaten.

There’s almost always a pot of porridge, there on the stove top, waiting for my bloke when he wakes up. And the local supermarket keeps me in Italian Lavazza Oro coffee, for the first of my morning espresso.

And most mornings, I end up with 2 dogs, one snoring noisily, there at my feet close to the fire while I read and prepare myself for the day ahead.

It’s not the worst life I’ve lived.

I still have the old-fashioned red armchair I bought, back in those days when I was living with Dad, not long after returning from Italy. It’s mentioned, and photographed, at the end of this very long post about learning to live with Dad’s Dementia.

I have 5 days off from work this week. It’s feels like a dream, and has allowed me to reach this point where I can write a little on my blog.

Each time I have moved countries, moved towns, moved houses, there is that period of readjustment … moving in, finding small routines that make the days easier, while leaving space for impulses. And I enjoy my part-time job but miss dreaming-time.

My photography exhibition, titled A Gasp of Delight, closes at the Dangerous Kitchen Cafe, this weekend. It has felt so good to quietly step back into my photography - a passion largely put aside after I returned to New Zealand, while navigating the lives of so many, unable to find the peace of mind, and sense of playfulness, good photography requires.

The exhibition has done well, both in a sales sense but also in some kind of unfurling of self. Let’s see where that takes me this time round.

But enough. I’ll end with a small Ciao, from down here, in The Bay.