Another rose shows us its colours for the first time, pale yellow centre blushing outwards into crimson, like a botanical Tequila Sunrise.
What I thought was a dark purple rhodo turns out to be a frothy mauve-pink speckled azalea.
Becca's mermaid costume for her school's Sea Day: blue beaded sparkly headdress brought back from Egypt several years ago by Aunty C; royal blue shimmery Middle Eastern dancing top from my pre-pregnancy days; J's sky blue fish scale sarong. Not a bad effort for a 10-minute rummage in the dress-ups box. Mind you, one kid showed up wearing a huge papier mâché Nemo outfit – actually, it was more like it was wearing him...
To my surprise and relief, Maggie sleeps, so I potter, and drink coffee on the deck, enjoying the late summer and the cicadas, and make silly alternatives to the Wellywood sign.
In the frizzly, yellow-cream centre of an old-fashioned rose, a tiny, emerald green grasshopper about the length of my little fingernail.
J comes home from his work Oscar party buzzing about Avatar's brace of technical/artistic awards. It's lovely to see him so happy at work.
A solitary fantail's aerobatics in and out of the branches of our huge pine tree: flashes of long white tail feather in the sharp autumn sun.
Maggie in the bugs and butterflies apron her sister insisted on getting her for Christmas, and which comes down to her feet, standing on a chair at the bench helping* J bake.
*for the values of 'help' that include 'getting in the way', and 'making a mess'. But she's having a lovely time.
I watch Last Chance To See, and learn that what woodpeckers and aye aye lemurs are doing is called percussive foraging. Like percussive maintenance, I guess, but probably more fruitful.
I miss M's reaction – amazement and joy – at waking to discover a huge and populated fish tank in the kitchen, so J reenacts it for me.
Exploring J'ville on a hot clear day with a hint of autumn in the air, Maggie in the pushchair still poorly and thus happy to enjoy the ride.
Maggie examines the large koru tattoo on her father's calf, tracing it with her finger and repeating Look, Daddy, a SNAIL! You gotta SNAIL in your LEG!
A card from Urs and Em, who love the stripey baby duds I sent, and a photo of the happy family in the bush.
Even though A&E's ridiculously busy even for a Saturday night, a nurse takes the time to bring us some bubble mixture to entertain Maggie with. M's delighted, especially when she finally gets the hang of blowing them herself, working out just how much puff she needs, which takes more finesse than you realise.
Late that evening, M's pronounced well enough to be taken home. When we get in, I check the voicemail: there's a message from my sister asking me in an excited voice to ring her as she has some news.
The next morning, as soon as the hour is decent (enough), I ring Ruth. So what's the news? – I'm pregnant! – I KNEW it!
Merridy has made two-year-old Timmy a Timmy-from-Shaun the Sheep birthday cake covered with white marshmallows, with paper cut-outs for his head and limbs. Simple, and really clever.
After a cool start, the morning sun turns suddenly hot and Timmy's guests are able to clamber excitedly into togs and ride the Zoom slide in the back garden.
It's 7.15am. My bus card's run out and I have no money. The driver lets me on anyway.
As we trundle down the hill, the sun, about to come up over the ridge before us, is casting a pale yellow tinge across Johnsonville to Mount Kaukau. The early morning sky's completely cloudless.
I overhear a fellow passenger gleefully recounting a perilous bus trip the previous night: ...by the time we got off, we were ready to kiss the ground!
Sharon, who watched me drive a tank in Christchurch, meets me outside work to give me a CD with some photos and a video file of the whole glorious experience. She was there with her husband, whose birthday treat it was; we hadn't met before that, but it turns out she works for a government department five minutes away.
This so beautiful I got slightly choked up at the end. If you haven't watched it, you should:
Melting Black Doris plums that leave inky purple streaks on my hands.
A trip to the playground at Central Park with Aunty C and Baby L. Some perilous moments as Maggie climbs to the top of the 3D spiderweb; I scramble awkwardly after her and catch her by one wrist as she dangles eight feet above the ground, and we climb back down together. I admire her ambition, her daring, her tenacity and the fact that she seems to think she's much bigger than she is.
Baby Lucy in her little bucket hat reminds me so strongly of Becca at the same age:
The train trip through the Ngaio Gorge; looking down steep, bush-covered slopes to the track through the park below where joggers jog and walkers walk and dogs are happy; glimpses of sparkling creek, and bridges.
A long walk around the waterfront in the bright sun. A pair of English backpackers exclaim at the stingray churning past at their feet as they struggle to assemble roll-ups in the stiff breeze; a black swan bobs in the harbour, looking confused.
I wonder what the little fat russet-throated sharp-beaked pair of birds sitting on the flax bush are until they both fly off, spreading forked tails, and I realise that they're swallows. Welcome Swallows, as it turns out.
Golden Queen peaches in the supermarket! I thought they'd gone out of season but there was a big juicy pile of them at Countdown today.
