PEEPS IN NATURE’S GARDEN.

Otago Witness, Issue 3832, 23 August 1927, Page 77

PEEPS IN NATURE’S GARDEN.

By

Rajput.

(Special fok the Otago Witness.)

An ideal day for motoring 1 t Off! Away through Ngahauranga Gorge; turning, twisting, dodging round long curves, past sheer drops, en route for the countryside—the countryside that beckons and calls, that is only too eager and ready to display its beauty and charm to observant and appreciative eyes, to swell its vibrant organ—many-tongued—-to receptive ears, to soothe and caress and give peace 1 It is springtide; there remains still a cold tang to the atmosphere, stirring the blood, quickening the pulse with the exhilaration of life. A lambent sun, floating through an expanse of pale turquoise, sprays earth with a cascade of ethereal amber dust. A few sporadic clouds drift lazily along trailing filmy draperies in their wake, etching purple-grey traceries by hill and dell. In the misty, blue and hazy distance a way lorn, errant rainbow has found a temporary resting-place against a purpling hillside, camouflaging the naked ruggedness under prismatic tints. Gently-straying puffs of air, bearing in their arms the subtly delicious odours of broom and goi-se, whisper softly through the rustling bracken and ferns. ’lall trees nod somnolently, casting long shadows of blue that entice the sunbeams to a game of hide-and-seek, or to dance a golden fantasy. A kowhai, loaded with bunches of golden blossoms in a setting of pale green leaves, swarms with bees flitting from bloom to bloom, thrumming a laudamus to beautiful Nature for her gift of ambrosial nectar. A shining hover-fly, transparent wings beating so rapidly as to convey an impression of invisibly" suspended animation, pauses in momentary investigation ere it dashes away and is lost to sight. A kaleidoscopic butterfly weaves its erratic, carefree flight through the perfumed air; it seems to be gojng nowhere in particular and with plenty of time to get there; the day is too beautiful to hurry through, so it continues its aimless, leisured way. A sinister, swiftly-moving shadow passes, thrown by a bush-hawk spiralling in search of prey. The shadow touches a small basking lizard, which disappears instantaneously. A crashing among the bracken indicates the haste and flurry of fear’s flight! A hare, disturbed in her iorm, races away madly and is speedily swallowed into space. A skylark shoots skywards from some grass tussocks. Up, up, up it soars, trilling a paean that ravishes the ear with palpitating minstrelsy! Higher and higher it rises; at last it is but a mere speck in the blue ether: suddenly it drops, with upward slanted wings, to its silent and nesting mate.

Here is a piece of virgin bush, an enclosed clump of native trees filled with merrily dancing spangles of light and shade. Rata vines festoon and drape from the trunks. staghorns decorate the branches. Conies a strange sneezing note, followed immediately by a mellow, gurgling yodelling. A response comes from further within the grove, but the glorious organists are still invisible. Then, there is a flash of bionzed, purple-black, shining plumage: a parson-bird has hurtled into sight and magically become obliterated within a parasitic cluster, whence, again and again, it flutes in mellow cadences. Another flash, this time of opalescent radiance, catches and holds the eye. A kingfisher has flared through space in search of a suitable nesting site. There, surely you can see it. The bird sits on a dry and leafless branch ludicrously twisting the head from side to side ; then it flashes off again like an animated gem. A hidden pheasant “ koks ” cautiously . . . there is a fleeting glimpse of bronzed red . . . then there is not 1 The “ kok-kok-kok ’’ continues, however, in betrayal of presence. A green ami gold and bronze beetle scurries hurriedly into cover, dives into a mass of decaying vegetation, and vanishes abruptly. ' A yellow-billed blackbird hops onto a twig, knowingly slants its head to one side ami surveys, with gleaming eye, the exact spot of disappearance as if in doubt of the evidence of sight. Yet, how well does he know the truth of the. adage that “ everything comes to him who waits ” —long enough ! However, he appears to have some more important matter on hand that needs urgent attention, so off he sails, scolding raucously. The road stretches away, in and out, a long ribband of grey. It winds by the I bank of a crystal, burbling stream that, here, ripples smoothly over a sandy bed ; there, babbling musically as it plashes through stony shallows spraying liquid diamonds. Yellow and white daisies peep timidly from the stream's velvety green banks, starring them in gold and silver. An irridescent trout leaps into the sunshine, glittering a moment ere it disappears below the water with bejewelled splash.

Soon the stream is left behind: sheer mountains tower, to one side, in precipitous majesty and ruggedness ; o n the other side a placid sea of scintillant sapphire stretches away to meet the horizon. Softly the wavelets lap whispering against a sanded shell-strewn shore. A few small boats rock languorously on the waters; a chugging ’’ launch bustles noisilv along, trailing a plume of white. ‘Reposeful, calm; how faithfully does the sea reflect and mirror mountain and sky, the stupendous sculpturing of Nature’s master .chisel!

Kapiti, lone sentinel of bygone years, draped in the misty haze of chastening distance, looms, proudly swelling from ocean’s arms. Beautiful now; later—when the westering sun sinks, curtained and bedded mid opaline radiance, through

lakes and rivers of celestial molten flame —in the evanescent- glow of eventide will the island be thrown, a vivid and giant cameo, in has relief against a setting of continuously changing luminance.

Beauty, music, grandeur, sublimity are the birthright of New Zealand. Far as the eye may see, the ear hear, the senses comprehend, are lavishly spread the incomparable gifts of prodigal Nature to a fortunate people. *‘ bar fields are ever greenest ” ; yet, where in all the world are to be found those “ greener ’’ than our own ? We must look, and comprehend, and appreciate, never permitting the blindness of familiarity to ignore the magnificence of our own heritage.