This Flora seems different...

Finding inspiration to write about a place you live and work in can be somewhat difficult. Especially, as I've detailed, when you work and workout within 200 meters (218.7 yards) of where you live. Outrageously convenient, but not a lot to see and do in my triangle of everyday life. You can't squeeze water out of a brick. It's dry and inflexible, and while good for setting up foundations, it's just not very mobile or tractable. A sponge, on the other hand, seeks and soaks up liquid that surrounds it. Moist (some people really hate that word, though I quite enjoy its uniqueness). All I had to do, then, was be sponge worthy. Fortunately for me, I live in a country renowned for its grandeur and beauty, and for their relative ease of access. And from there I don't have to write much at all, just show you some pictures.

A few weekends ago I ventured out of Auckland, once again west, to an area called Huia (sharing a name with a now extinct bird). Rising and winding cliff-hugging roads brought me to a short walk, and what a path it was:

Amongst this thicket I was only slightly concerned that raptors would outsmart me at any moment.

The summit was easily scaled, providing some wonderful views:

Looking SE. 

And West to Northwest (the direction, not Kanye and Kim's child).

Pretty sure George R.R. Martin did not describe any place like this in ASoIaF.

And this past weekend I did a quick day trip to Piha with my friend Rhiannon, which is as delightfully sunny and beach-y as it sounds. First a short half hour walk to Kitekite Falls (pronounced Kee-tay-kee-tay, not kite kite):

The occasional sun rays shooting through gave this stream a milky hue.

Sun-kissed hair and  garbed in green amid the green, the perfect camouflage.

Photos are great, but they are also stagnant. A waterfall is best perceived with splashing sounds and the light tingle of its mist on your skin.

Then down to Piha beach, which is known for its black sand, a TV show detailing necessary rescues from the frothy and swirling ocean eddies, and this very large rock:

Called Lion Rock, and somehow I accidentally captured the one angle from which you might be able to convince yourself of its resemblance to a lion.

A short climb up Lion Rock and the beach in all its low-tide glory.

So don't be a brick, be a sponge.

Cheers!