Hail is bouncing off the roof next door. Occasionally, puffy snowflakes fall, while the southwest wind blows rain onto the window. The Port Hills are obscured behind grey cloud; it will be snowing up there. Now and again, the sun comes out. I’ve replenished the bird feeders. It’s 1.6 degrees outside.

Yesterday I biked home from watercolour class against a warm nor-west wind and the washing on the line was crisp and dry by early afternoon. Today, Mum and Felix are in their armchairs by the fire.

Perhaps I should have enrolled in the creative writing course instead of repeating the Introduction to Watercolour Painting. I had a disappointing start last Monday, having somehow forgotten the disappointing end to the course I did in 2023. Note to self: don’t look at what other people have achieved. Then I had the brainwave of using poetry on card-sized illustrations, putting a wash on each piece first. I made a start today. So far, still disappointing – although it was a restful, meditative thing to do on a Saturday afternoon.

There is a connection missing between what I visualise and what appears on the paper. Those yellow blotches are meant to be thistledown, and those black splodges are meant to be cows going in for milking in the rain. They look more like wildebeasts or perhaps elephants. And was I thinking of Purple Rain? I need another brainwave if I’m to cope with the remaining five classes.

Today every day seems like a rainy Saturday, despite the lovely 17 degree day we had yesterday (8 degrees today) and even though Saturday loses significance when you aren’t working a 9 to 5 week. It’s good to have rain though, made evident by Felix’s muddy pawprints leading from the cat flap to his bowl. He spent the day by the fire – speaking of which, the woodshed is being progressively de-stacked after all that effort to stack it (but what a relief to have it). I dried washing inside, made Anzac biscuits and scones and, with nothing outside clamouring for attention, read the weekend newspaper – and last weekend’s too (the weather must have been better then).

Meantime, the birds are looking for food – with a break while Felix inspects the source of their attention. While admonishing him, I looked at my rather pathetic efforts to brighten up the garden with some colour – pansies and petunias – balanced precariously on the rickety frame of what remains of the greenhouse.

I noted a leak in the garage, and moss on the bricks – just part of the time of year, I guess. Thank goodness for perennially cheerful pansies and petunias. And now it’s cocktail/mocktail time, and Nashville Babylon on RNZ National (‘Well, hello!’).

This morning the bird baths have frozen over and vegetable plants are drooping in the frosted garden. In this cold weather, the birds are appreciating extra food. The wax eyes like sugar water, and berry truffles in coconut feeders – while still keeping busy in the camellias. The blackbirds enjoy apple and pear cores and persimmon skins when they aren’t digging along the garden edges. Felix sometimes sits in the tree above the coconut feeders for hours. The sun is out and it’s a good day for drying washing on the line. Soon, the broad beans will perk up again.

Later this morning, Felix is keeping a look-out above the coconut feeder.

This is the aftermath of the free form painting of two great-nephews, aka Michelangelo and Da Vinci, when they were in town this weekend. There were a couple of disagreements, or contrattempi, but they were mostly harmonious as they worked, unlike the famous Italian rivals.

I was delighted to see them heading straight for the paints – no interest in coloured pencils or screens. They were very generous with squeezing paint from the tubes, mixing colours like there’s no tomorrow, experimenting with all the brushes, and applying layer after layer to the paper, as you can see. Their output was astounding.

So in the moment was I that it didn’t occur to me to photograph them as they worked so, for the photo, I’ve used paintings from their last visit in April (the style remains the same) as they were keen to take the latest ones away with them. Their dad had the genius idea of drying the thickly layered pages in front of the log burner so the paintings could be transported safely. I’m sure their intended recipients are thrilled and the work will be festooning fridge doors from here to Dunedin.

Their April paintings are carefully filed with the creative work of their mother, aunts and uncles; all of it named and dated – a record of their output over several years (See April post Family Time) when they spent school holidays at my house. This weekend’s visit reminded me of those happy days.