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Health: the Happiness bug

Dedicated to Health. That fundamental state of being when things are good; when mind and body function smoothly. When there is no pain, illness or malaise we say like to say we’re heal…

Source: Health: the Happiness bug


Pest Free New Zealand: Why it Won’t Happen

In as long as it takes for a stoat to kill a kiwi chick, here’s why predator free New Zealand won’t work:


The penultimate possum plays dead…

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In the Happy Meridies

Great rain-soaked land,

Your green and luscious soul

Is listening in

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Tide to Rest

In the morning feel the hard frost

Bend brokenness, add ache

To stiff bone and disfigured skin–

The ice in the pail has frozen

In jagged and jumblesome shards.

Note nothing has altered.

The broom leans the same way,

Dust crowds as before, grimy pots

Lend shelter to stiff-legged spiders

Smoke is the memory of fires past.

The ice is melting from rusted eaves

Where it– the frost– rests at a stretch

And cradles the earth in her low hours

When she hovers on tired axis, tilts in a dream

Stretches and unwinds to another day.

© E. Richardson

Bye Plane.

The shadow passed directly overhead, no prior notice. No wing-beats or engines, just the temporary darkening of the sun. I squinted upwards. The return of the dinosaurs? Haast’s Eagle rebuilt from stem cells, on a maiden voyage to the coast? Hardly. Just a plane. But right then, as I stood on the sand– stick in […]

Seal’s Up!


The beach is a friend of the morning:

Each a sheet in the sea of the sun.

The seal pup is playing the mouth

Of the river that swallows the sea.

The seal pup is playing for fun:

He’s not in this business for food,

There’s a wave at the bay that he’s chasing,

The woman is waving away

The rise of the tide is dawning,

The sun rose the previous morning,

The seal pup is playing the tides,

And the woman is playing for time.

The seal is after a fish

That spins away from the mouth

The seal gives up the chase,

The woman is walking south.

The woman is cooking tea

In a caravan by the sea.

The fish is in the pan

And the seals are sailing south.

The river is widest at the mouth,

Where it turns towards the south.

The river is a silver ribbon

In a sea of silver-black.

The woman is a sea of mourning,

A sea of grief and salty tears

In the shadow of the morning

She shall not look back.

She seeks The Sun… and finds Warmth

An old woman walked up a hillIMG_20150616_170439

She wished for sun and a view of the sea.

At the top of the hill was a seat in the sun.

The surf curled frothily below,

Her toes curled with pleasure.

The Sun eased the spasms in her back.

She thought herself young,

Or old ahead of her years.

She went down the hill quite content.