Embracing February's heat and our mortal coil

I always forget how ridiculously hot February is in Northland.

This year seems to be even more so. Sweaty afternoons and long, sleepless, mosquito ridden nights.

I have to remind myself and others around me that it only lasts a few weeks a year.

In Ruakaka the ground which has looked like vast stretches of scorched toast is now coloured green.

The smell and sight of smoky blazes heralded by the harrowing drone of the siren alerting the volunteer firefighters to another opportunity to hone their skills.

These had seemed to be commonplace out here, but their significance has been drowned out by the continuing misfortunes in Canterbury.

The overwhelming alteration from dryness to damp brings me to update you all on my vege growing exploits.

Firstly, my cherished tomatoes.
Well, let's just say some did better than others.

Contrary to my research, the heirlooms outperformed the hybrids.

The grafted variety performed a bit like athletic dopers - they started off with a hiss and a roar, but ultimately failure overshadowed their initial success.

The black cherries were abundant and exotic.

The big rainbows were flamboyantly large.

But crikey, they all took a lot of watering; it was like growing stuff in a sandpit!

Chillies seemed to be the triumphant winner of the day.

They revelled in the desert-like attributes of the plot.

The habaneros were yellow, angular and evil looking, while the jalapenos emerged bulbous and waxy.

I've found growing veges reminds one of how cyclical life is - from vigorous, lush growth, came shiny red produce, then crusty yellowing dryness.

The constant need for rehydration and the critical element of using the goodness of those "gone by" to nourish the soil into new life.

The fallen totara gives life to new growth, through its death and decay, invoking sprouting and surging over and over.

It's my moko's birthday this week.

I brought her together with Kaumatua Te Warahi to bless a pounamu I brought back from the South Island with me for her second birthday.

Her wriggling and giggles seemed to settle magically, as he started the karakia she stilled to receive the wairua through his words and hands.

She is an angelic reminder to me of our mortal coil, a reminder to embrace February with its smothering stroke inducing humidity and thankless nor'westerlies.

Looking at her pounamu I am reminded that the cool, clear southerlies will be here before we know it, and I'll need to find a way to embrace the days and weeks of cold rain, biting wind and long nights.

¦Jonny Wilkinson is the chief executive of Tiaho Trust - Disability A Matter of Perception, a Whangarei based disability advocacy organisation.