Points From Letters

Southland Times, Issue 21820, 24 September 1932, Page 18

Points From Letters

“I enjoyed my holidays very much. I saw a very beautiful sunset while I was out in the country. At about 6 p.m. the sky was the colour of flame. Towards the north this colour melted into a delicate pink and towards the south a pale yellow. The blue haze the rays of the sun cast everywhere, made the surrounding country look even more beautiful.” —Cousin Winsome Blue. “Spring is a wonderful alive season isn’t it? Everything is then fresh and unspoilt. The flowering-currants are blooming in all their rosy glory, for they are the very essence of Spring. We have a big bush at home, and early every morning several tiny green waxeyes visit it, to plunder the honeyladen sprays. And the daffodils! The Fairy Page should be delightful, and I am looking forward to it. I hope Kathleen O’Brien sends in bushels of entries, for all her delicate cobwebby ideas are, I am sure, inspired by fairies. It is the blue and gold season now, surely. Stately trumpets of daffodils mingle with hyacinths, kowhai and gorse bloom in mellow splendour beneath an azure sky.” —Cousin Chrissie Ross. “Don’t you think Spring is the best season of the year? The trees next door to us are being cut down. The poor little birds—l wish I could warn them—are building their nests in them. Soon their new homes will be destroyed. Every morning, just as the sun rises, a starling perches on the gable above my bedroom window, and sings. The notes are so long that I feel his little throat will burst. I suppose he knows that at this time of the morning, I am still in bed.” —Cousin Winifred Gerard. “Two Maori ladies are down here just now. They make beautiful things out of flax. I have seen some baskets, mats, pois and little buttonholes, all made out of flax. One basket I liked especially well was a little square one made from the silky fibre of the flax and it had a beautiful pattern worked through it and was fringed round the edge with a little plaited handle on it. They dye the flax too sometimes, with dyes which they make themselves.” —Cousin Daisy Dunlop. “Last Sunday Cousin Doris Humphries and I went for a walk. We went to a paddock not far from our place where once there had been a house which is now an old ruin. At the back of this place there was once an orchard and a garden. As we wandered through this we saw a number of daffodils which we picked. Thinking we might find some more we wandered further along the paddock and under the shade of a willow tree I spied a violet bed. We were so pleased we searched still further until Doris spied another violet patch. As we gazed idly around we noticed that the willows were laden with beautiful catkins. You cannot imagine how hard we tried to reach those catkins; but in vain. They were all too high. But we determined to go again and not leave until we do get some.” —Cousin Connie Jellyman.