Blowin' in the Wind

Thsi is some scraps of plastic wrap caught in the security fence by my work. I've always been intrigued by the patterns it makes in the wind. Gossamer tatters flickering here and there.

Thoughts:
I spoke to our next-door neighbour C today and mentioned I saw the Sumner RSA building, the place where his partner works. Worked. It is flattened by a rock slightly bigger than the building was. He is lucky to still have her and knows it.

I am finding it moving that so many people who would not normally be religious are saying prayers. I'm not religious, and neither is he. But on the way back from Blenheim where she is staying with the kids, he stopped at St Oswalds church on the coast north of Kaikoura. It is a lovely little stone building by the road within sight of the dunes. He went inside and just said a quiet word of thanks. He didn't know who he was saying it to; he just felt he should. There have been so many close calls that we feel the need to say thanks to whoever. Or should I say WHOEVER. Just in case they're listening.

I'm not religeous, but perhaps I am more spiritual than I thought.

When we get that close to death, the comfortable pelt of civilisation is stripped away. Engineers reports and Richter Scale readings just don't cut it when it comes to an explaination of how and why we missed death by inches.