Friends have a private campground at Kuaotunu. Although I am not officially a "camper” hosts Ron and Nicola used to set up the tent we were staying in with a light and have the beds all pumped before we arrived. There was always a table and something to plug the hairdryer in which I always thought I would use but never did. He would have the gin on ice before we even unpacked the car. We would spend the days playing. The kids would go eeling at night and the brassier was lit. Swimming during the day and dancing around the fire with marshmallows at night. Opito Bay is one of the beaches we would visit on an afternoon explore. 5 mins south over the Blackjack Road and a somewhat unknown treasure. I was often surprised at how few people were ever on the beach.
Long golden sand and spectacularly clear blue water. The view from the hill looking down to the beach through the Pohutukawas is breathtaking. It is one of those places where you thank God
you were born somewhere so beautiful.

East coast hills have that summertime burnt yellow orange hue. Hazey and warm. They seem to
cry out for a long wet warm rain. Sheep nestle to find somewhere cool in the shade of the farm
trees oblivious to the dollar worthy views of their paddock. New Zealanders take these sheep
laden views for granted, leaving home to experience the grey concrete jungles abroad only
returning home when they feel the pull of the clean sharp air of home.

I’m very close to my brother. We once did the Abel Tasman walk together, a must do for every Kiwi. We did a tiki tour around the top of the south island, drove out to Akaroa and explored that little
piece of french country in NZ. The hills out that way have their own distinctive look. The colour is quite constant. When we visited they were a warm burnt yellow/orange and seemed to go on forever. On that trip my brother passed the time telling me how a car engine worked. We have a way of firing off each other and often end up laughing ‘til we cry.

Who wouldn’t want to live here I often whisper to myself as I walk the dog on the beach after the kids have set off for school. Photos never do it justice. Billie our dog can chase a ball into the ocean 100 times over and never tire of it. She flys in to the water winter or summer as I make friends and chat with the other dog owners on the shore. I rarely remember the owners names and usually refer to them as Lizzies mum and Indies dad.

Keen to see what all the fuss was about Raglan, I took the kids and mum on a day trip. Mid winter, not a bikini in sight and a strangely set up little town. I’m not sure what I was expecting but a view
of the beach from the main centre was probably something I had anticipated. Our little silver wagon meandered around the hub trying to find the main beach and ended up on a long winding country road with spectacular views out to sea. Late afternoon sun caught clifftop hills. Lonely horses
grazed, oblivious to the grand endless ocean crashing below them. A mountain seemed to hover over the ocean southward. Mount Taranaki, with it’s snowy coat hanging low was visible from 100’s of kilometers away, such was the fresh clear cloudless sky. That day we planned our trip to
Taranaki. That trip would be one of the most memorable ever with my kids and Mum. Hankering
for a new subject to paint we happened across the season for rhodendron flowers. Pukekura Park was on show with hundreds of species in full bloom. Garish pinks, scarlets and sunny yellows offset against ancient enormous trees and frilly ferns. New Plymouth has come a long way in 30 years.
Cool shops, the boardwalk, art and sculpture; but to have a strong link to the past with such an established domain is something special.

Most years on my birthday we grab a picnic or pizza, bottles of bubbles, the cricket set or a kite and watch the sun go down over the city and the colours soften around Rangitoto. I’ve always been a
bit funny about painting Rangitoto and I often think it’s been done to death but it is the one thing
that makes the Aucklander think of home and my paintings of Rangitoto now have homes all
over the world.

One summer New Year my boyfriend (now husband) and I joined friends up north to see in the new year. We stayed with a very close old friend and were invited to watch the clock tick over at one of her fathers mates homes. It had a spectacular view and looked down into a rugged coast with deep green blue water. We watched the fishing boats motor home from our perch on the hill and sailing boats find their berth for the night. We arrived to discover the main refreshment was the obligatory bubbly, which is fine if you are chatting and admiring the view. My boyfriend however took on the mantle of childrens entertainer and played cricket game after cricket game with the kids. Early into the evening he realised he hadn’t managed his fluid intake as he should have and was a little
‘under the weather’. That night he said he loved me and wanted to marry me and then fell face forward into a bush. I remember it fondly because of the sincerity he said it with and always felt he was showing his true colours with no inhibition. The following morning we were all celebrating the 1st day of January with foggy heads, but on the way back to Auckland we stopped at one of the northland beaches for a swim... something in the water that day revived us all. The headaches were gone, we felt awake, alive and ready to take on the world. And whether he remembered it or not someone had said he loved me.

Long winding roads over hills with wide grassy vistas lead down to the summer beach.
Togs, salty fingers and sandy sandwiches. Twisted Pohutukawa eking out a living from between
rock cracks, invincible to the elements. Tough and scratchy with summer red fireworks exploding from each tip heralding a long hot summer.

Friends with baches, boats and swimming pools are great friends to have. We have spent a couple
of great family breaks at Hahei. We played Jenga at night, beers at lunchtime and had family walks in the afternoon. There’s a great tree swing at the northern end of the beach and I have some
special photos of the kids flying on the swing against the brilliant blue sky. Our family have really stupid nicknames for each other and the last time we visited Hahei we walked the length of the beach teasing each other and drawing each other's names in the sand. That same holiday we
fished off the jetty at Whitianga and watched as Ben proudly caught his first little fish!