A Melodious Sonnet - Page 18 of 59 - Notes from a word-chaser

Fox Glacier and Harihari – January 2020

March 25, 2020 by Esther Filbrun · Leave a Comment

25 Mar

Finally, I’m back with another installment of the trip I took with friends back in late January! I didn’t realize how quickly time has passed since my last post, but here we are again with more pictures!

After walking up to view the Franz Josef Glacier, we headed further south—about half an hour’s drive, I think—to the Fox Glacier. There, we were all quite hungry, so we sat on the rocks bordering the temporary car park and had lunch together. After walking for several hours, even sandwiches are appealing! Only made better with a bit of delicious salami, fresh tomatoes, and salt and vinegar chips, of course. 🙂

This is the Fox River and highway bridge, taken from our picnic area. Notice how the sand and gravel are contoured; if I remember right, the water came most of the way up to under this bridge when there was heavy rain in the area last year—the bridge further north, over the Franz Josef River, was washed out at that time.

Did you notice I said “temporary” car park? This is why:

I was rather confused about our bearings for a little while, but when we got here, I knew where we were. I was hoping to show our friends the lookout at the end of this track, but what I didn’t realize was that the original road that went out to the glacier had to be closed because of extensive slips. As in, I’m not even sure it’s open yet for people to drive back to get to the glacier face itself! What we were walking on here was the glacier outlook road, but instead of driving it like we used to be able to do, we had an hour or two’s worth of walking.

The road was really damaged with all the flooding, and those of us who had always ridden past these spots found it quite interesting to see all the changes!

Then we got up to the viewpoint itself, and—woah. The track had to be rerouted at least once, and I couldn’t believe the amount of gravel, rocks, and boulders that had been washed down this river during the flooding. This used to be a fairly flat riverbed; in places, it looked like it had risen 1-2 meters in depth! The slip about in the middle of the picture is on the access road to the walk to the glacier face, which I’ve been up before, but weren’t able to go to this time.

And one of my favorites: A fern tree! Unfortunately, the clouds hadn’t lifted in this valley as they had at the Franz Josef Glacier, so we weren’t able to see the Fox Glacier itself.

On our way back, we took a detour on a narrow little track that created a loop from one point on the main track to further down. It added some time to our walk back, but we were happy for a change of scenery, as it really felt like we got into the bush from there! I thought it was interesting to see the glacier terminal signs, and wondered how people would have been able to figure out the dating for these!

This was sort-of difficult to see in real life (I wasn’t entirely certain which tree was which) but I thought the sign was funny!

Moraine Walk. Highly recommended—probably one of my most favorite tracks that day!

And we were exhausted. The boys found a soft moss-covered rock to rest on for a bit.

On our way home, we stopped for a short look at Lake Matheson—but after walking about 18 km that day, we decided we had had enough and wouldn’t add another hour and a half to our day’s total. I’d love to explore that area more some other time, though!

So we stopped for a picture at the photo stand (I’d love to see what this looks like when the weather is clear!), picked up some coffee from the cafe, and headed home.

Crossing the Franz Josef river on the temporary bridge (this was the one that washed out last year):

Getting to one of the many roadworks between Franz Josef village and Hokitika (this little tractor was pretty neat!):

And stopping in Harihari for a short break. While there, we looked across at a little park and decided to explore a bit before heading on.

They had a mosaic maze there! We met the woman who masterminded the project, a local who does a lot of work with pottery and other crafty things. She provides the tiles and other materials, you draw your message or picture on it, then she’ll fire it and place it somewhere in the maze.

There are lovely shard mosaics around the outside, as well as these fun “stepping stones”:

And the maze itself! I didn’t actually go all the way through it, because I got distracted by reading the individual tiles. The pillar in the middle has a sundial on the top, and the sides are made from pieces of old china cups, plates, and saucers.

Some tiles were sad:

Some were fun:

But put together, it was beautiful! The woman who works to keep the maze up also does a lot of the gardening around, and she was pulling weeds while we were there. She says that as she has time, she’s looking forward to putting a lot more flowers and shrubs in on the grounds.

Another sad tile:

And some were sweet:

I loved the pillars that graced the outskirts of the park, too!

In all, the Harihari park was a lovely place to stop and stretch after traveling for a while, and I’d love to spend more time exploring there! It was a lovely end to a long day!

After being gone all day, we were ready for a bit of a break—but Thursday, we headed up to Arthur’s Pass to explore! I’ll share those pictures next.

Have you seen a mosaic maze before? I remember right after the Christchurch earthquakes that people got together with all their old family china that had broken, and they made mosaic pieces out of them—but I don’t remember seeing any of the resulting works of art.

Michigan Memories: Preparing for Moving

March 20, 2020 by Esther Filbrun · Leave a Comment

20 Mar

Years ago, Mom bought a hardcover photo book on special, and I had fun picking out the pictures, putting it together, and sending it off to be printed. Now, that photo book is a treasury of memories, and it bears an appropriate title, Michigan Memories. Today, I thought I’d share a memory of my own from before our family moved to New Zealand—a funny one that I enjoy looking back at from time to time!

***

It must have been one of those beautiful autumn days in Michigan when red flame decorated the trees and the air seemed to nearly sparkle with the crisp joy of the season. Throughout the year, from soon after spring grass came up in the fields until there was little left to feed out and winter brought its frozen crystals to bear on the water in the bell waterers, we spent an hour or two every evening working to move our birds to fresh pasture. It was always a boring, but important job, and I tried many different things over the years to try to alleviate the boredom.

This year, 2009, for the first time, I had a camera—and not the kind with film that has a finite amount of pictures and you are done. This was a digital camera, and I could take pictures to my heart’s content—and I very nearly did!

Climbing Little Sable Point Lighthouse with the aunts

I was eleven, still very much in all the joy of a girl whose life revolved around the different seasons on a 40-acre farm. We had a family business firmly rooted in said farm’s soil, and many hours were spent keeping it up. Winter brought many sled and skating parties with the cousins. Spring peepers brought hope to the end of snow and starlings, and later, robins, ushered in the warmth of summer about the same time Mom headed out to the garden with her packets of seeds and I felt the fresh coolness of newly-tilled soil under my bare toes. Summer was sunshine, avoiding mosquitos, staying up until 10 pm in the long twilight, and playing many games with the cousins in between building villages out of teepees in our woods. Autumn arrived with crisper mornings and Canadian geese riding high above our heads, their honking drifting back to us in never-ceasing cadence. And so the seasons went, each one enjoyable, full, beautiful.

And though change was coming on unsteady legs, I felt prepared for it. Excited, even. Around two months out from the biggest adventure of my life, I had much planning to do—and lots to pack into my new backpack. I’d been envious of my brother’s backpack for years, and now that I had one, I was determined to use it.

We were moving to New Zealand.

This wasn’t anything like the seven-hour drive to see my grandparents that we had done every Christmas since before I could remember. This was an adventure; the fulfillment of a life-long dream to ride in every conveyance possible. Because now, we were going to fly on an airplane!

And as I walked through the clover from one pen of chickens to another, the turkeys gobbling around me every time one of those straight “V”s of geese came honking past overhead, my mind whirled with ideas for all the things I wanted to take on the trip—things to keep my hands occupied for every minute, so I wouldn’t be able to complain of even a single dull moment.

I had my camera with me—an appendage those days, much more important than my carefully packed purses that, when I was younger, I’d been determined to take with me wherever I went. As the ideas raced through my mind and I tried to compile some semblance of a mental list, I realized pretty quickly that wouldn’t work.

Off to my left, a line of trees ran along the border of our property. Our pens of birds were spread out somewhat, and every now and then we had to wait a while for Dad to get one job or another completed before we could go on and do another job. While we children waited, we often ran to play in the trees—and, I suppose, tried to escape the work that inevitably caught up with us again.

That day, we must have been fairly close, because I found myself under the shelter of one of the tree’s branches. Gathering several leaves and breaking a few twigs, I arranged the leaves on my knee and held a twig in my hand, pretending to write. Then, I took a picture—to remind myself that I wanted to take a pen and notebook.

I don’t remember how many different pictures I took of leaves and stones and twigs that evening, trying to make a photographic list of all the important items I couldn’t leave behind. But I realized, about ten or fifteen pictures in, that it was going to be hard to even “read” this list.

Flipping back through the pictures on my camera, I reminded myself: Paper. Pencil, pen, a coloring picture, a book or two to read . . . and by the time I got to the end, I was already forgetting what the beginning pictures symbolized.

Dad called for me, ready to move the next pens. Tossing my leaves and sticks to the ground and brushing off my skirt, I pushed out past the sweet-heavy scent of pine needles and tramped through the spindly clover. I’d have to find some other way to take notes. I couldn’t write on leaves—for one thing, most of the leaves easily reachable were too little, and cutting words into them with a stick or sharp rock against a larger smooth rock took time.

Then, I remembered—wonder of wonders, I had the ability to video something, and video equaled audio! I quickly turned that on, and as I headed back to the pens, I rattled off in a just above whispering tones all the things I had been trying to remember.

Later, in the quiet of my bedroom, the curtained walls separating me from the rest of the basement, I rewatched the video, chuckling at the jiggling pictures of feet in crocks wading through the grass.

I had my list at last—and I was well prepared for my international traveling!

I’ve since had a good chuckle at myself, both at how eager I was to use my new toy and also the memory of the jerky footage of grass. But hey—you must use what you have at hand to record what you need to remember, right? I think that’s why some writers actually carry a little notebook around them—it’s a necessary element of their lives.

Have you used any somewhat unusual or unique methods to take notes before? Share below; I’d love to hear!

Also, would you be interested in hearing more Michigan memories?

Busy Weeks

March 16, 2020 by Esther Filbrun · Leave a Comment

16 Mar

It’s been a busy few weeks—and it’s going to get even busier for me for a while! Two weeks ago, I got a message from a mother who is going to need help for six weeks starting next Tuesday, and after talking with my current boss, it became possible for me to go.

Oh, and did I mention that I was given two extra mornings of work per week a month or so ago? That’s been an unexpected blessing! After several months of looking for work, I’m really thankful to have more again!

A random picture, I know, but I’m not the only busy person around here—baby sister is very active, and loves spending time outside when she can!

Anyway, back to my upcoming time away from home: I don’t know this family very well, but I am looking forward to getting to know them better. It will be fun to get to look after some new children, and I’m hoping they will enjoy it as well. I’m also expecting it to be challenging, but that’s when God steps in to take care of what I cannot.

Meanwhile, I’m trying to figure out what all I need to get done yet this week. I had a dress cut out but not sewed up sitting in my closet, and thought it would be nice to have that finished before I go, there are some reviews that need to be uploaded and scheduled on the book review website, and I need to make sure everybody knows how to keep my kombucha and sourdough alive while I’m gone.

Friday a week ago, I had a special treat—I found out a younger friend of mine had some sewing to do, so I got to go over to her house and sew with her all day! I didn’t get all the way done with the dress, but made a good amount of progress. It was going together very well, I hadn’t had to unpick any seams, and I was feeling pretty good about that—until I sewed a sleeve on upside down. I felt brilliant while I got to take both seams on that sleeve out again! It’s good to have a reminder every now and then that pride is not a good attribute to have. 🙂

What are you looking forward to right now? What are you working on?

Franz Josef Glacier – January 2020

February 21, 2020 by Esther Filbrun · Leave a Comment

21 Feb

Somewhere around three weeks ago now, I took a trip with some friends to do exploring around the glaciers 2 1/2 – 3 hours south of us. I’ve loved that area of the country for years, but it’s been nearly four years since I was down there last! It was a very cloudy morning when we set off—and stayed that way for quite a while—but just as we were getting close to our first destination, the Franz Josef glacier, I saw sunshine on the mountainside ahead!

This area has gotten an immense amount of rain this past year, causing quite a few washouts. I believe this was the surface of the original access road to the Franz Josef glacier, now impassable. I’m glad they built another road next to it, so we could still get there!

Walking out to the Franz Josef glacier, I looked up—and the sky was clearing! There was a little waterfall just ahead of us, too.

And then . . . the glacier itself! Pouring down a valley of its own like a blue sea suspended in space.

The walk up the Franz Josef river to the glacier is so pretty . . . all the different colors, and I never tire of watching and listening to flowing water!

Just as you get onto the riverbed, there is a gorgeous waterfall that comes down the hill to the right. It splits into several different forks at that place, and there are some large rocks to use as stepping stones across the little creek.

Then, further along, there is an interesting rock formation. I’ve found it fascinating every time I went, but what I thought was especially interesting was the fact that there are no visible horizontal scrape marks as I’ve heard are often the case on glacial sites. I had to wonder what the explanation for their absence would be—if you have any ideas, I’d love to hear them!

Another favorite feature of mine: The green and red lichen on the river rocks.

We made it to the top and the end of the trail! Unfortunately, due to the glacier’s melting, we were still one kilometer away from the glacier’s face—and the distance to the glacier was quite noticeable compared to when I was there four years earlier!

It’s still beautiful, though.

Looking down the valley before heading back. . . .

The vegetation here is such a gorgeous green color!

One of the girls we were with mentioned that you could see evidence of the smoke from the Australian bushfires in the snow. Sure enough—there were distinct yellow patches in the snow! I did have to wonder why some parts stayed white, while other parts were yellow!

And one last point of interest: If you climb a little track that zig-zags up a hill, you get a different lookout on the glacier. It’s a lovely view any way you look at it, but they had an interesting sign up showing where the glacier was ten years ago. What a difference!

In all, I highly recommend this walk if you come to our area. I also recommend going on a sunny day—it’s much more interesting then! And once again, I was reminded of how good our Father is to give us such beautiful things in creation to look at!

What natural features in your area have you gone to see lately?

Hope After Suicide

February 10, 2020 by Esther Filbrun · 4 Comments

10 Feb

I saw a Facebook post today by an old friend who mentioned two family members who had taken their lives in as many months. He was appealing to people to reach out to others—to share their pain, so they could find help before going to such extremes.

And reading it, I saw the weight of grief behind each word. The longing that something could have changed before it was too late.

I know. I know what it’s like.

And I don’t know what to say, other than “Oh, Lord, please be with that family.”

I was listening to the Compelled podcast last week, and one of the stories (here’s part 1 and part 2) I heard was of a couple, Rob and Heidi Fuller, who were unable to have biological children and ended up adopting. They also had a miscarriage part way through their journey, which further brought them grief.

During that time, she wrote a song that has connected with me deeply even before I heard her story. This video is Rob and Heidi singing the song together.

We have to rest in the fact that He knows—even though we wish things could have turned out so very differently, He knows what’s best.

And for all of you who are struggling—reach out to someone, please. You are so loved, and so valued, even if you can’t see it. You’re one of God’s precious children. I pray that you’ll be able to find someone you can share with who will point you back to Jesus and give you His hope. Because He loves you far more than you could ever believe.