A CERTAIN HILL

Across the Valley


"A certain hill or mountain can offer a deep emotional focus to a person's life or to a family or community." (Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul, 1992)

We count ourselves fortunate to live opposite a 'certain hill'.  Opening the curtains each morning means the start of such a focus.   Each morning the view is different whatever season or weather is displayed outside.  Each season brings its defined highlights.  When the children were young we'd all go for walks to the top of Flagstaff.  Over the years our sons Foster and Ray did take many long hikes, including the Pineapple Track.

Spring 2012

In spring my eyes go beyond the blossom-covered apple trees outside our living room window to Pine Hill, a hill suburb of Dunedin, then on to Flagstaff with its growth of manuka, totara and other native trees as well as paddocks dotted with sheep.

Plum tree blossoms with bare apple tree branches.
A punga (tree fern) in foreground.

Towards the summit any forest vegetation stops and dry tussock plants take over. I should also mention that there is a valley between Pine Hill and Flagstaff. The northern motorway winds its way towards Waitati and ultimately to Christchurch (approx 360 km from Dunedin).


 A few days ago we woke up to a sprinkling of snow on top of Flagstaff. In spring the hill sides are covered with bright yellow gorse, so beautiful to look at but so destructive with its rampant growth. Scottish settlers brought it to New Zealand, hoping it would help make them feel less homesick but the climate here is most encouraging to plant growth and a lot of work is involved in clearing this beautiful 'weed'. Oh, yes, I know that feeling so well and indulge in it occasionally by buying bunches of tulips at the Farmers Market.   Getting up early on a clear summer morning is always a treat. I sit on the balcony and have my camera ready. Often there's a haze but every now and then the sun defines a certain cluster with manuka trees on the hill. Being able from this distance to see 'through' the tall slender trunks makes that part of the slope mysterious. I think of the night life that will be there, possums, weasels, wild cats that thoughtlessly have been abandoned.

Long white cloud

 I love watching the long white cloud (Aotearoa) making its way from Mt Cargill to the west. Sometimes this cloud hangs between the two hills and sometimes it's edging close to the summit of Flagstaff. I remember how in the early sixties top dresser planes were active over those hills. Miriam would be in the pram (the Plunket nurse said that fresh air was good for her) while I hung the washing, listening to the zooming of busy-bee planes in the distance. This was a companionable sound but it often made me think of the threatening drones of planes over our village in the east of Holland during the war years.

Early morning sun hits Flagstaff

 When Miriam isn't watching television she does her Word Find puzzles at the dining room table. Since she came back home to live after the stroke I've tried to bring the outside to her mind by pointing out cloud formations, different colours of clouds depending on the weather and the different times the sun reaches the top of Flagstaff after rising above Signal Hill (visible from the other side of our house). So, in the middle of winter, while I'm rushing in the kitchen getting breakfast, I hear her voice, 'Mum, the SUN.' Around the shortest day it's just before 8.30 a.m. From then on we watch the lengthening of the days by the time we see the dark pink shine on top of the hill. From our living room we see, on the shortest day, the sun disappearing behind an area of Flagstaff at 4.20 pm, often preceded by the most amazing sunsets. Then it's time to light a candle, go to the kitchen and start preparing dinner.

Late sun, Mount Cargill on right.

I took the following photo in June 1999 from our balcony, shortly before our 40th wedding anniversary and just before we travelled to Europe for the last time.

Sunset over Flagstaff, June 1999

Weeks later the sun hits the hill top from a higher point in the sky and we can see more clearly the gap between Pine Hill and Flagstaff. Each time I look at the hills across the North East Valley an emotion demands attention. The beauty of defining sun rays, the chilliness of snow, the demanding yellow of gorse. I cannot ignore these views. And when occasionally I have a 'down' day I quietly lift my eyes onto those hills and know that I will be comforted.

The seasons have a way of running parallel to our emotions. Winter blues, spring and autumn storms, peaceful summer evenings. For me those hills are an inspiration for accepting whatever the day brings.  That 'certain hill' has been and still is a memory and a focus for all of us.