1.4 ‘Now and Then’ Creative Writing

On a blissful summer morning on the West Coast at Muriwai, the birds were so noisy it sounded like a symphony choir. The horizon seemed to be stitched with a line of fluorescent orange as the burning sun appeared. Luminous colours reached away from the yawning sun, infecting the night sky with the summer light, poisoning the odd cloud that passed by, turning the white to a soft pink. From the peninsula, looking out to the calm sea, the gannets wheeled and arced gliding through the early rays of flaring sunlight. Their chaotic calls ringed off the cliffs. Birds perched on the lush green tree branches surrounded the edges of the family beach house, lively singing joyous tunes that informed everyone of the wondrous day ahead. Lonesome rabbits appeared from underground borrows from below the house on the lavish green paddocks. They sat there, peacefully. The stairs groaned as people emerged from prolonged sleep-ins. The kettle rumbled as doors extended open like arms stretching wide, embracing the fresh breeze. A hum of the waves rolling onto the black volcanic sand resonated in the background of the radio buzzing through the walls. Summer crept, igniting the weeds and grasses that grew in the cracked pavement, that led up to the painted blue stairs to the deck where the motionless pool sat, anticipating the stillness to be broken. Behind the crystal clear pool rested the sauna like a dormant volcano. On the top deck looking out to the breathtaking views, the grandfather sat quietly. With a cup of tea in his hand, on a chipped wooden chair, he admired the lemon tree that was blooming with life below him as he heard the thunderous splash as someone impacted the surface of the pool. Pool toys emerged out of the sauna, ready for another action-filled day. From bomb contests in the pool to tanning on the busy beach to thick-shakes at the cafe, summer was great. But in the bitterness of winter, Muriwai isn’t the same.

On winter mornings, wretched cold temperatures bully the town into the heated homes. Lonely naked tree branches ache in the frigid breeze. The choir of birds seemed to have disappeared, though occasional squawk echoes in the distance as if the birds are running away. Rabbits hibernate, too scared to face the threatening bitter air. Brave surfers challenge the vicious ocean, floundering over the continuous wall-like waves, attempting to reach clam waters. A mist masks the ruff seashore like a cloak strangling the land. The beach house still stands strong fighting against the brutality of winter but wishes for the sweetness of summer to return. The swimming pool, empty. Lonely. It’s become a pit for the falling leaves and stray sticks, whereas the sauna erupts with life, heating the family like the sun that they desperately miss. Monstrous storms surround the town like a cage, trapping everything within. Tremendous claps of thunder intimate the prisoners. Gasping for air the sodden paddocks drown in the overflow of brutal rainfall. Hiding inside by the flaring fire-place the family compete in an intense game of monopoly, arguing about every move meanwhile the extreme high tides play tag with the sand dunes. But no matter the season, even in the ferocity of winter, Muriwai always provides an entertaining, thrilling time.