The Churches of Northland: Motukaraka

It's now well over a month since Pauline and I set off for a long weekend exploring the churches around the Hokianga Harbour on the West side of Northland.  I've already posted about the Church at Pakaraka.  Now for the second one.  The Church of Our Lady of the Assumption at Motukaraka.

Opened on 3 April 1910, with festivities attracting more than 2000 people, the church was entirely funded by the local Maori community after taking nearly 3 years to build.  It is constructed of kauri much of which came from the hapu lands at Tapuwae where kauri stands had survived the extensive logging in the region.

The painting over the alter is a copy of the Assumption of Our Lady by the Spanish painter Murillo which had previously hung in the Native School having been brought out to New Zealand by a Motukaraka schoolmaster.

The church is on land owned by local Maori, The Ngai Tupoto ki Motukaraka, (the Ngai Tupoto hapu is part of the iwi of Te Rarawa) who have maintained the church since it was built.

Who Mentioned Bruges?

Someone recently mentioned Bruges in a blog post.  I know they did.  I'm sure they did.  I'm sure because mention was made (and there was a YouTube clip) of the film In Bruges.  Comment was made that regardless of the film's merits it showed lots of footage of the old city of Bruges.  I thought that it was Jenny Woolf of The English Travel Writer.  I suppose that was a natural association.  I went to Jenny's blog this evening to comment and discovered that it wasn't her blog where I'd seen it.

I can't find a reference anywhere. 

So this evening having watched the film (not to be recommended except for the scenery) I don't know to whom I want to make that fact known.  Can anyone help me?  Pleeeeeeeeease!

Life can be very frustrating sometimes.

Monday Morning Medley

Dark Coprosma Carpet Moth (Austrocideria callichora was Hydriomena) - I think

A snail with a tail.  Well it's not but what is it?  I notice that a few snails had a similar thing stuck to they shell

Field Grasshopper (Conocephalus species) aka Tussock Katydids

New Zealand Praying Mantis (Orthodera novaezealandiae).
You can tell it's the NZ variety because of the blue knees.

Autumn Colours

How to Create a Starry Sky

A few nights ago I suddenly wondered what would happen if I tried to catch raindrops with the camera's flash.   Now I know.

Great Expectations

Apples are like lollies/sweets to cattle.

Thankful Thursday: Names

Yesterday I said in my post that I'd gone back to bed with Zoe.  I'd have said that was a Freudian slip except that I don't know any Zoe I'd be likely to go to bed with anyway.  It did make me think about my long-standing problem with names though.  I should, of course, have said Eve, my soon to be renamed Apple MacBook.

Many years ago when I was a very young man I used to do a lot of protocol work.  This involved knowing the names of the 120 councillors and 40 aldermen of Liverpool City Council and always being on hand at functions to introduce them to visiting dignitaries etc.  Alderman were appointed for 6 years so rarely changed but elections for 40 councillors were held every year.  One of the things I learned early on was that if you introduced a diplomat by the wrong name of country then on the whole they smiled and when you were out of earshot remedied the error.  Presumably that's what made them diplomats!

One day, however, I got the name of a newly elected councillor wrong.  To say that he made a fuss would be putting it mildly.  Since that incident in 1965 I have had a severe difficulty with names.  My mind goes blank and that incident flashes into my head.  The problem is so bad that I once was introducing my wife at a function and I just couldn't remember her name.  I forget names of people I know and have known for decades.  I forget names of people I've been in the same room with and used their names minutes previously.

I read Dale Carnegie's (why can I remember his name?) How to Win Friends and Influence People many years ago when I was a teenager.  He made the point that a person's name is one of his or her most treasured possessions. 

If I had realised what a burden this affliction was going to be during my life I'd have seen a psychiatrist but, of course, such things were not thought of in the '60s and I suppose for a long time I thought that my previous ability with names (which was one reason I used to do the protocol work of course) would return.  After all the irony is that the fear of forgetting a name is probably the cause of the act of forgetting.

I was wondering if I could turn this into my Thankful Thursday post and I couldn't see a way until I suddenly realised that if that was one of the worst things in my life then I had precious little about which to complain.  So I am playing the Glad Game and am thankful for the fact that I could have had much worse problems to contend with.

How Things Can Change

After a cold, miserable week of constant rain and greyness, yesterday dawned clear and the temperature shot up during the day from 9℃ (48℉) to 32℃ (90℉) on the deck in the shade.

This morning I woke before 6am and dawn and made myself a cup of tea and went back to bed with Zoe.  By 7am the sun was up and the view from my bed was:

So now, nearly an hour later, watching the morning news and weather forecast I am astonished to see that by this afternoon we are supposed to be having full rain again.  I'm hoping it won't because I've still got croquet matches to play and time is running out.

The Long Shadow

This morning I opened the ranch sliders and as I stepped outside I looked down on the deck at a Silvereye or Waxeye and had one of those strange moments when one is transfixed.  The bird didn't fly away but was plainly aware of my presence.  I suddenly realised that it must have flown into the glass of the ranch sliders and was at least concussed.  I closed the doors and left it to it on the grounds that any attempt to help it would almost certainly lead to heart failure through fear.  After quite a while it was looking even more distressed and I assumed that it was dying.  I have to say that I was quite upset at the suffering but there was nothing I could really do.  And then it suddenly came to life and hopped off the deck and perched in the cover of the lavender bushes below the deck.   An hour later it was gone.

It gave me to think on the fragility of life - a subject touched on in quite a few blogs recently.

And also on the illogicality of the human.  In this particular case, me.  One minute I had been, grieving over a suffering bird.  Then, quite without provocation but because they are an invasive immigrant species which I dislike, I killed two Paper Wasps.

Invicta

Jenny Woolf left a comment on Meike's Mum's guest post the other day quoting the last two lines from a poem which, many years ago, I copied into my book of thoughts and writings.  I occasionally dip into the book even though I stopped writing in it many years ago. I thought that I would share it with you. Then, as I was writing this I suddenly had a moment of déjà vu.  Had I written this before? I Postvortered it and the answer was in the negative.   Then I remembered, of course, it could have been in Eagleton Notes.  Postvorta again.  There it was.  Oh well.  This is a different blog so I shall do it again.  I've just discovered, too, that Wikipedia has an entry on it .

INVICTA *

William Ernest Henley, 1849-1903


Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds and shall find me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.


* translated as unconquered or unconquerable

Friend Who Knows Too Much

I count myself amongst the most fortunate of people.  I have friends.  True irreplaceable friends.  I have friends who have been there for me when things fell apart.  I have friends who stood no nonsense when I felt sorry for myself and gave me a right good talking to.  I could carry on but the list is too long.  This post is about one particular friend: Friend Who Knows Too Much otherwise known as FWKTM.  Why am I posting about her now?  Because a lot of different things have happened recently which have caused me to refer to FWKTM and I forget that not everyone knows the significance.

On Good Friday, for example, Meike's Mum wrote a guest post on Meike's (Librarian's) blog and I commented that it was a case of whatever is is best.  To the extent that we make the most of our misfortunes (or good fortunes) that is exactly what the story demonstrated.  However this was a philosophy I had 'learned' as a small boy from 'Uncle John' our next door neighbour.  It remained unchallenged by me until the last decade when FWKTM questioned my approach and pointed me to Voltaire's Candide.  We spent many hours discussing Voltaire and tiny snippits of Nietzsche as we understood him.

Prior to Good Friday's post I had had a discussion with Meike on another subject and she referred me to her post entitled My Friend.

"My friend and I go back a long, long way.

As far as my memory reaches, back into early childhood where things tend to get a bit blurred and only single objects, sounds, sights or scents stand out clearly against the backdrop of the first few years, we've always been friends.

While we grew up, naturally the pattern of our relationship underwent changes; some of them subtle, some less so, but our friendship never suffered.

With my friend, I have been able to open many doors to the inner realm of imagination and delight.  

On the very rare occasion where the delight turns into fear, I never blame him, and those events never leave a scar on our friendship. 

My friend puts me at ease when I am troubled, restores my energy when I am exhausted and offers a welcome refuge from the outside world when I feel I can not face it.

Some years ago, a change of circumstances, of work place, of where I live.

True friendship does not suffer from such changes; it may shift and be altered, but does not break or peter out. 

So, of course, my friend and I remained as close as before. 

Or so I thought."

To read the end of the story you will have to visit Meike (Librarian) whose story it is and find the twist in the tail (or tale).

However I couldn't help thinking that there were a lot of things in the post that reminded me of FWKTM and I said so.  But the acronym meant nothing to Meike.  So now I have explained the acronym.

As to who FWKTM is:  that would be telling.  We came through hard times together.  We came out of the tunnel and our lives went their separate ways.  But there is nothing on this earth that could ever break the friendship.