We have the clearest skies here at The Top of The South, New Zealand. Big Sky country they call it.
Every thirty days our moon starts life afresh, emerging from her granite womb. A great, bloated, globe, rising ceremoniously from the shadowy ribbon of mountains we look upon from our home.
Some months they are scorched dun with the heat, others they are capped white and frosted to the valleys.
Every thirty days our moon, our timeless consort waxes to maturity and takes new breath.
As she awakens she lays a crimson hue upon the Tasman Sea. She grows transforming from wolf to passionate flower, reaching out from the Eastern Ranges across the bay, beaming that shimmering path to our welcoming door.
In the ghostly, otherworldly luminescence I stand in awe.
Last week that resplendent orb draped in linen and silk, struck out on her astral quest within the great iron ball, pierced with constellations, the ferocious fire beyond. Our moon, our friend, kissing the jewel-stars in her path.
This time I felt closer to mom than any time since we ventured so very far away.
Truly embraced in her mothering arm I knew she was with us. I looked upon our harvest moon and there she sat, sipping milk and honey as the hops in the gardens were cut, the grapes in the vineyards were gathered and the apples from the orchards boxed.
I know this because through the dew laden night I could hear her.
Yes, I could hear the matriarchal call …. “AALAAAN!”
Our new life is so far away and my only regret is that mom was always too ill to experience it. I know she would have seen that we’d made a good decision. A new home in a country born of majesty and constant wonder.
Poor old mom, always so ill, always so strong. She battled on and lived every one of her nine lives. Her body crippled with disease and cursed with pain. Each year another battle, each one more arduous than the last.
But mom kept on going.
This last battle was one too brutal and if I could only hope for one thing, it would be that mom is sitting on the next rising of our lavish companion, free of pain, free of the ravages of blight and that she is wearing that smile. The one that crossed her lips as she lay waiting to pass, listening to her family from the other side of the world.
Every thirty days as you join us from the Northern Hemisphere your family, Jake Jess, Brooke, Anna and I will spare time for a little thought and wish of wellness.
Paul, Emma, Sarah XXX