Fire damage - before the rain

I wrote about the fire at Owhiro Bay back in February.  Two months later, there had been almost no rain, and the blackened scrub was stark against the dry soil. 

Looking across to the hills, the distant green of native shrubs and gorse plants contrasted with the blackened areas consumed by the fire.  A stand of pine trees showed almost no damage but in the foreground there was a large macrocarpa which had been badly injured and a blackened stump had fallen beside it.  There was a contrasting pattern made by the fire-delivered plant death - skeletal black branches and soft bleached shrubby mounds.  These photos were taken on an atmospheric grey day with clouds which did not deliver, and seagulls circling in the sky providing a rather sinister presence.

Closer up a lone tree on a ridge, probably a native Pseudopanax, provided a glimpse of green among the charred branches.  Gorse seemed to have been thoroughly consumed by the fire, and I wondered whether it fuelled the fire more than the native plants did, but what I saw did not enlighten me. 

Since I took these photos a month ago there has been rain, decent rain.  I intended to go back today but didn't have the opportunity - so tomorrow I hope to see what difference this rainy month has made.

Beached - but still holding fast

A southerly storm and its wild waves subsided two days ago.  But evidence of the disturbance was still to be seen today on the beach at Lyall Bay, including many seaweeds looking curiously like a horde of beached creatures.  The small (compared to the piles of kelp) seaweeds were still holding fast to the rocks that had secured them in the deep until the turbulence had wrenched them and washed them up.

Many of them were a gorgeous red.  Closer up, you can see the soft corrugations of the red blades,

or the texure of papillae on some contrasting with the texture of the sand.

Green and brown seaweeds had also suffered this upheaval.

This brown seaweed has beautifully ridged blades, and you can see its branched holdfast holding on tight to the stone which was its secure anchor until the storm.  On the stone there is a pinkness which could be a crusting red alga.  I await correction! 

A holdfast, as the name suggests, is a structure which holds on tight - but although it looks a bit like the roots of a plant it does not take up nutrients, just sticks incredibly tightly to the surface on which it anchors.  Impressive - the holding fast and the power of the waves.

Soft sunset calm - before the storm - at Te Raekaihau Point

It is autumn, but southerly storms bring "instant winter" to Wellington at any time of year and with them there is a big drop in temperature.  But the compensation for the cold is the drama of the clouds and waves, and the contrast of storm times with the in-between times.  At Te Raekaihau Point, at sunset at the end of an unseasonably warm and gentle day, a southerly front was approaching - the clouds a soft pink, the sea still calm and baby blue...

Two people walking on the rocky outcrops were dwarfed by the scale of sea and sky.  The calm mood of the pretty scene was somewhat disturbed by the sight of rain falling from the approaching clouds, the beginning of a southerly storm front. 

Awareness of weather is very much part of living on the south coast for me.  The fluctuations we experience are a profound reminder of how vulnerable we living things are to changes in the movement of wind and water, and that reminds me of climate change and the challenges we all face on this precious earth. 

Dreamy autumnal maple

With stormy weather raging outside I have been enjoying an image from yesterday - a Japanese maple in the Wellington Botanic garden which is usually covered with crimson leaves at this time of year.  Maybe it is the warmer temperatures we have had, maybe the effect of the drought - but only some of the leaves have changed.  With the wind here we never have a "perfect" autumn display anyway - the leaves are usually quite tatty and weathered, ready to fall, which they no doubt will be doing now.

I love the pretty contrast of soft greens and rich crimson, with dappled backlighting angling through the branches - a dreamy look emphasised by a soft focus effect. 

Today is so very different, any softness in the light being due to the dense rain and/or sea spray, depending on proximity to the coast.  In the north there has been torrential rain, in the south there was snow, and here in the middle we have had dense rainstorms, thunder and lightning, gale force southerlies, flooding in the city - generally miserable.  And stormy seas never look as impressive as you might expect in still images, and when I tried to capture an image or two my lens was spattered with salty spray in seconds.  So I turned to the calming beauty of yesterday, anticipating the settling of the storm as its energy dissipates.

Avian invaders

Sighted in their "natural" habitat - outdoor seating for the rose garden cafe, shaded by a grape-vine covered pergola.  There they are, hungry and ready for action... 

Sparrows!  Actually house sparrows - there are hedge sparrows too.  

Likened to the Norwegian rat and the house mouse - hitching a ride with human migration - they seem to be everywhere.  One local cafe, asking people not to feed them, calls sparrows "rats with wings!" 

But despite their pestiferous qualities they are also cute and engaging and, like ducks, are fed quite a bit of bread by children playing here in the rose gardens in the Wellington Botanic Garden. 

Bright eyed and quick moving, these little dinosaur descendants are also ready to take any unguarded food.

Incoming sparrow, wings aloft!

Butter - a fast way to get that winter weight on.  

I have only recently learned the history of the house sparrow in New Zealand - there are differing accounts, but the gist is that a small number were deliberately introduced to help control agricultural pests.  It's the usual story - a small number arrived, they were wildly successful - but not as agents to control pests, more a pest themselves, eating fewer of the insects and caterpillars and more of the grains that were being grown.  Within 20 years futile sparrow-elimination efforts were underway.  Sigh.

And these young sparrows just wanted you to know that they are actually as clean as can be - fluffed up and grooming while perching on the cafe chairs, a brief interlude in the constant search for food.