My heartfelt wishes for a digital camera donation did not fall on deaf ears. My darling mum, bless her, clipped 7 coupons from the Herald, paid them $25, and sent me a digital camera the size of a credit card. She will receive a packet of new little books next week when I get back from WOMAD.
It's lucky the camera is so cute to look at as that somewhat redeems its functional shortcomings. The main challenge so far is that its aim is not true but I have figured out if that you position the centre of the picture you want in the lower left corner of the view finder, the result is more or less meaningful. In terms of focus and lighting and resolution it's probably good enough to illustrate this blog, its primary purpose. Except that all of the photos I took on my walk this afternoon mysteriously disappeared out of the camera's memory before I could upload them to the laptop.
So you just have to imagine the lush bush scenes, lichen covered old fence posts, and babbling brooks that I was going to show you from my particularly thrilling and wet walk today. Wet because, though I waited until the rain had stopped, I couldn't resist leaving the track to wade through long wet grass, rockhop up streams and plunge into cunningly hidden swamps. Thrilling because I finally got out into some 'real bush' out the back of the farm, off the track, diverse but not terribly dense given the cattle traffic.
Not long after I inspected some pig-rooted ground came the most exciting moment. I emerged from the bush and decided to try a short cut through a hilly paddock. This led me to be faced with a wall of gorse meeting a 10 metre drop to a rocky stream. I was contemplating my options when I heard a very pig-like growling from behind me- the only apparent way out from my little impasse. I couldn't actually see a pig (the only thing that really scares me in the bush) but I started to whistle bravely and tunelessly and went forward into the gorse... Actually I managed to tiptoe my way between the gorse and the cliff for about 50 metres by ducking under some prickly totora. What exhilaration to emerge, as I had hoped, into a familiar paddock bordering the main farm track.
Tomorrow I leave for WOMAD and a tour of North Island craft galleries. Transmission may be interrupted but I will be back on board next week for sure, with the further adventures of Meliors: Book Artist and Bush Whacker.