I'm so used to seeing an extinct volcano from my place that I don't really notice it most days. However, when I welcome overseas visitors, they will often comment on Rangitoto's distinctive shape, and enquire if it has blown up recently.
Rangitoto is one of the youngest volcanoes in our area and it last erupted around 600 years ago. They say it is unlikely to erupt again, and I convey this information to my visitors, adding that if it did, I would have a jolly fine view.
Yesterday afternoon, the sun returned after a morning of rain, so I sat out on the deck and was soon joined by Miss Poppy-cat from next door. She makes daily visits, and I know she is on her way because the sparrows start making that chuckling warning of look-out-cat-coming.
So after saying hello, having a bit of a catch up on the news and head-butting me several times, Poppy settled into a cozy rest and together we enjoyed the sunshine.
It was a still afternoon, small drops of water still clinging to the tips of the large ferns like tiny diamonds, so windless in fact I could hear the waves as they ended their sea journey on our little beach.
I heard the local gang of rosellas begin their noisy squawking-screeching, splashes of green and red up high in the trees as they squabbled and sorted themselves out. The tuis have been many and busy, firing themselves through the trees like black stealth rockets, flapping and fighting over territory, sometimes taking a tea break to have a drink and flap about in the bird bath, the calls of the blackbirds, so tuneful, and my old mate the kingfisher whom I rarely see but often hear, way up there somewhere.
This morning, I made a point of looking at Rangitoto and took the picture you see in this post. From my viewpoint, I couldn't see any of the houses below, just the bush, the sea, the volcanic island and the early morning wisps of cloud.
Perfect.