Tag: queen

Last dance

nikkirwrightLeave a comment

She is tattered, at the end of her short life. Her body shakes and shivers. I tiptoe closer but she’s too preoccupied to bother with me. Slowly she clasps a bunch of leaves with thin black legs and draws her abdomen up into a sickle shape, with the tip pressing under a leaf depositing a tiny pale-yellow egg. She repeats this process several times resting in between, vibrating. It’s a big effort and I marvel at her energy and determination. At her peak she may have been laying between 300-400 eggs at a rate of 40 eggs a day! Now on her last legs she is perhaps the last of the female monarchs that will visit our swan plant/milkweed. There is a slim chance her offspring might slowly pupate through winter and emerge as new adults in spring. And there are other reminders that this is a time, a season, of dying and release.

Continue reading “Last dance” →

Moments in Warmth

nikkirwright2 Comments

I think I’m becoming obsessed with the temperature gauge as the weather flip flops between extremes. No sooner has a cold southerly snap arrived than it vanishes, followed by sudden and often intense heat. The other day it climbed to 17C in the shade and, for a time, the sun strike on our deck was 32C. Too hot to sit there! We heard on the radio that Japan had recorded its hottest June temperature ever – 40.2C. But the northern hemisphere is not even into its proper summer yet!

When the air temperature climbs I come across moments of frenzied insect activity on some of my walks. It seems to be the exotic plants they are dipping into such as flowering bottlebrush, dandelions, gorse, lavender, rosemary, buttercups, tree lucerne and nightshade, plus some natives including the odd manuka bush and hebes. What would they forage on in winter if it wasn’t for the introduced plants – some of them considered weeds.

Continue reading “Moments in Warmth” →

Queens and Storms

nikkirwright2 Comments

The weather has turned. A low-pressure bomb travelled up from Antarctica and into the Tasman Sea, lashing thunder, rain, hail and tornadoes onto our coast.

Walking down to Pauatahanui Inlet, my nose and eyes stream in the wind, tips of fingers icy. I notice a white-faced heron, hunched in ruffled grey coat, observing the brown waters that race into the inlet from Whitby’s streams and drains-turned-torrents, flipping storm water lids. Seagulls turn steeply, their undersides flashing white under pink clouds. The sound of traffic as evening commuters head home to warmth, children and dinners. A driver yawns. Back up at Postgate Park a huge gum tree has crashed down, perhaps overnight. Its remains lie in butchered lumps and splinters, after someone has been in with a chainsaw. Old yellow toadstools lie in the grass nearby, rotting like sloughed skin. On the news I hear that hundreds of kororā/little blue penguins have washed ashore up North at Ninety Mile Beach. A DOC spokesperson believes they are starving to death as climate change is creating waters too hot for the fish they feed on.

Continue reading “Queens and Storms” →