It’s that time of the year again. Hail and howling southerlies one minute, glorious sunshine the next. Drunk Tuis staggering underneath the Kowhai trees and clacking and squawking at potential mates in their drunken stupor.
The garden is sporting a carpet of blue; forget-me-nots, bluebells and mascari (grape hyacinth). The cats are doing their sychronised grooming session in the only pool of sunshine next to the French windows. Oh the joys of spring in New Zealand.
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