The Ida Burn is bank to bank again, snow melt and the rain that fell last night. We take our mountain bikes for a change, interested to check the state of the creeks, and head down the rail trail. Just out of the village there’s a pear tree in full white blossom. Its fragrance perfumes […]
Hail for a change, this spring morning. A friend rings and I leave the fire when the sky quietens and go outside to weed the lavender and bulbs while I talk to her. We discuss the coming protest about the big irrigation schemes in Canterbury. She’s unable to go; I will go for both of […]
Sleet moves in a swathe across my paddock towards the Dunstans. Bartali and I sit by my fire discussing the possibility of a bike ride in an hour, when we’ve both done some work. I’m reading Gaston Bachelard’s Poetics of Space (five years after building my strawbale house) for research for an essay. So much […]
There’s something in the air that has us looking around, thinking maybe the cold is almost over. “It must be spring,” I call across the road to Ken. He’s with his ute and dog outside the general store. “Yes, I was watching the birds flutter around the digger in my front paddock this morning. They […]
For the first time in weeks the land has dried out enough to ride my bike from the house to the road. The sky is grey though, and rain clouds coming up from the south. Time to get riding before the weather changes again. Contador and I settle into good pace up the valley. We […]
This morning the frost was so severe the pond froze. Small birds skittered on the surface and the resident paradise ducks were out pecking in the frozen grass. It‘s warm in the sun on the verandah, and lulled by that, I head off for a bike ride minus the second jacket, second pair of gloves […]
Snow is forecast down to 600 metres this afternoon. We’re at 540 metres so the hills around the valley will most likely get a good dusting. In preparation I put on two pairs of gloves and push a folded newspaper down the front of my jacket for wind chill. There’s a slight breeze. Nothing like […]
It’s a fine line – to exercise or not. Outside, the sun lowering, the bank of clouds dulling the light, the day almost over. Yet at the computer, such lethargy inside it seems a bike ride is the only cure. I don’t ring Bartali. If we go together it’s a much tougher ride and I’m […]
A fine, warm day, for this time in winter, and the tussocks in my garden beginning to stir with the breeze. “Where do you want to ride?” Bartali asks. “Up Lockhart’s Hill and back,” I say, without any thought to wind direction. On the slight uphill rise to the top of the valley the wind […]
Less than three hours of sleep for me after nightshift and Bobet rings me. “Do you want to come out on the bike for half an hour?” “I thought you’d already been on the bike?” “I’ve come back to see if you want to come out.” Hard to say no to that dedication. Even without […]
Jillian Sullivan writes fiction and non-fiction for children, teenagers and adults. Her work has been published for over twenty years and includes four novels, three collections of short stories and over sixty short stories for children and adults, published in New Zealand and America.
- Cycling Central Otago – Day 16: On the trail October 22, 2017
- Cycling Central Otago – Day 15: Firewood October 22, 2017
- Cycling Central Otago – Day 14: Gravel Roads October 14, 2017
- Cycling Central Otago – Day 13: Green October 14, 2017
- Cycling Central Otago – Day 12: Wind October 4, 2017
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