Dark Moon

"I thought you had come home," says Lady Mondegreen in exasperation. "There are docks the size of silverbeet in the rose bed and the grass is no longer a lawn. I need you to be a country woman here, not playing the pagan all over the Country."

I wouldn't have missed this weekend of dance for any overgrown docks. Hosted by Nor' West Arch Morris Dancers from Christchurch, this is an annual event on my dancing calendar, held at Hanmer Springs every autumn.

Visitors, Nelson Morris, showed us their dark side this weekend: after a picturesque stint as their sunny Cotswold aspect, they appeared as Dark Moon Morris.

Energy, enthusiasm, a sense of theatre. Maybe I want to move to Nelson! No, no Lady Mondegreen, I didn't really mean it.

After all the excitement I needed to come down; I needed a serene space; and a cup of tea on the road home.

A garden, sculpture, a reedy pond:

But appearances can be deceiving.

Because to visit Sam is to walk into a Thinker's den.

And the serenity of space is also the stage for challenge and provocative ideas.  A piece is growing in our minds -  a memorial to fill the space where Elwin thought a bench should sit in the churchyard at Ashley. 

Bronze bust amongst rushes, by Alison Erickson