There are tracks like this, leading to the beach, back home in any New Zealand summer.
That place where the delicate scent of the yellow lupin merges with the smell of the sea is fairly close to heaven ... or that's my idea of it all.

There are tracks like this, leading to the beach, back home in any New Zealand summer.
That place where the delicate scent of the yellow lupin merges with the smell of the sea is fairly close to heaven ... or that's my idea of it all.

Of all the flowers in the world, so far, these are the flowers I would fill my garden with ...
The humble yellow Lupin. Colour-specific because no other lupin smells like the yellow lupin, otherwise known as L. luteus.
In Dunedin, they mostly grow in that place between the land and the sea, in the interstitial zone.
Following the sandy tracks that led to favourite beaches around Dunedin, the yellow lupins filled my soul with something that felt like joy.

I lived on the edge of Otago Harbour, out on the peninsula, and scenes like this were everyday kind of scenes. And I often slipped out of the house, usually with my dog, and wandered out into those early mornings ... any season. It was always stunning.
I never took them forgranted, I loved every day that I spent out there. It was only that I needed to see the world. It was good to go home and visit it all again.

I loved everything about this ceramic artist's place, with the incredible cafe called L'Arte, located in beautiful Taupo, down in New Zealand.
Every detail ...

The book released here in Norway in December is An Elastic State of Mind, which is an imaginative autobiography in formal and free verse. Three years of intense work with form, two years of historical research, and another two years with the translator: this baby was a long time in coming. The review that came out last week was positive, with the caveat that it was demanding of the reader.
The book I am editing now, which will be finished in March, is Ewe in the Rain. It's more of a seduction than a demand.
Ren Powell, an extract from her post over on Mad Orphan Lit.
Fascinating reading! Take a peek.
The photograph ... Boccadasse, Italy.

I didn’t write the rules — why should I follow them? Since I put a great deal of time and research to know what I am about? I ask and arrange if I feel it is legitimate. The honesty lies in my — the photographer’s — ability to understand.