As the misty fog sits lightly outside my window on Maro Tiri and Taranga, the islands known as The Hen and Chicks in Bream Bay, I gaze at the sand dune below the cliff I live on. It has been designated wild life refuge and is thus protected from development and is home to a few breeding pairs of New Zealand's rarest bird, the fairy tern, amongst other shore birds.
I'm writing a story about an auction coming up on the New Zealand website, Trade Me, where many artists have contributed work to raise money to stop the potential development of the Ngunguru Sandspit - just 350 new homes on an iconic New Zealand landscape - an hour north of my place. The auction begins August 25 and runs for 10 days.
I saw the chaparral of my home state of California disappear under concrete over the first thirty years of my life, and the same thing on a smaller scale is happening in New Zealand now, but without the population pressure. Here there is a false economy being created by developers buying up large tracks of land and building high-end homes so that the traditional "Kiwi bach", or beach house, is disappearing. No more inexpensive holidays at the coast in the average New Zealander's second home, not even in a humble camp ground, because they too are disappearing under concrete and "sensitive coastal developments."
If you look at the artist's drawing of the proposed 350 high end homes and picture associated roads, destruction of bush and replacement with exotic plants, the result will likely be interesting, and if you had no idea of or appreciation for the immense beauty of the undeveloped area, you might be tricked into thinking the development is superb. You might even want to live there, just as many of the millions of California residents who never even wonder what the California coast line looked like before it disappeared under concrete.
It is really confusing for me. I swore that this time around I would subdivide and make some money. I should have known how, and I should have done it, but I didn't. I got involved in a love affair with my own 2 hectare coastal property.
I live 50 kilometres south of Northland's biggest town, Whangarei and 6.79 kilometres south of the Scottish settlement of Waipu on the site where the Waipu Cove School sat in the 1880's. Before that this land was where local Maori looked out for the enemy as they caught and cooked sea food (kai moana) until they were wiped out by a chief who bought muskets from the white folks.
I have continued to look out, cook wonderful food and learn new things as I have built my home, planted hundreds of fruit trees, ornamental plants and native trees and shrubs.
I found that I am a compulsive propagator and started seeds and cuttings and transplanted natives and exotics alike from one end of my historic property to another while I watch the many moods of the sea and the changes in the sand dune below me through the branches of 200 year old Pohutukawa trees. I have truly put down roots.
I'm also, with my husband Greg's help, setting up my website and blog so I will make this first posting and get back to my story. I have a deadline looming and being queen of procrastination, I must grab hold of myself and get to work.
I saw the chaparral of my home state of California disappear under concrete over the first thirty years of my life, and the same thing on a smaller scale is happening in New Zealand now, but without the population pressure. Here there is a false economy being created by developers buying up large tracks of land and building high-end homes so that the traditional "Kiwi bach", or beach house, is disappearing. No more inexpensive holidays at the coast in the average New Zealander's second home, not even in a humble camp ground, because they too are disappearing under concrete and "sensitive coastal developments."
If you look at the artist's drawing of the proposed 350 high end homes and picture associated roads, destruction of bush and replacement with exotic plants, the result will likely be interesting, and if you had no idea of or appreciation for the immense beauty of the undeveloped area, you might be tricked into thinking the development is superb. You might even want to live there, just as many of the millions of California residents who never even wonder what the California coast line looked like before it disappeared under concrete.
It is really confusing for me. I swore that this time around I would subdivide and make some money. I should have known how, and I should have done it, but I didn't. I got involved in a love affair with my own 2 hectare coastal property.
I live 50 kilometres south of Northland's biggest town, Whangarei and 6.79 kilometres south of the Scottish settlement of Waipu on the site where the Waipu Cove School sat in the 1880's. Before that this land was where local Maori looked out for the enemy as they caught and cooked sea food (kai moana) until they were wiped out by a chief who bought muskets from the white folks.
I have continued to look out, cook wonderful food and learn new things as I have built my home, planted hundreds of fruit trees, ornamental plants and native trees and shrubs.
I found that I am a compulsive propagator and started seeds and cuttings and transplanted natives and exotics alike from one end of my historic property to another while I watch the many moods of the sea and the changes in the sand dune below me through the branches of 200 year old Pohutukawa trees. I have truly put down roots.
I'm also, with my husband Greg's help, setting up my website and blog so I will make this first posting and get back to my story. I have a deadline looming and being queen of procrastination, I must grab hold of myself and get to work.
