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The websites featured here are all in celebration of beauty in some shape or form whether it be through nature and journal writing, memoir and poetry, through art making, music, photography and film. I have deliberately sought out writers, artists, musicians, photographers and film makers whose work I find uplifting and that deepen the experience of living.
The first link features the work of Canterbury nature writer and photographer Steve Attwood. I first discovered his blog during an online search for more information on the riroriro grey warbler who comes to my garden and sings most days. |
Deborah welcomes approaches from writers, poets, artists, musicians, film makers and photographers whose work and websites share an affinity with the material on this journal website
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Steve Attwood
Steve Attwood is an author of short fiction, a journalist, conservationist and photographer extraordinaire who writes with passion and insight about the natural world in Canterbury. At his wordpress site you can read his illustrated blogs about the majestic Southern Alps, the flora and fauna and birdlife of the rivers, wetlands and forests of Canterbury and a new series ‘Wild in the City’ which opens with a poetic essay about the Christchurch botanic gardens upon the Avon River. This blog has been a revelation to me and I know it will appeal to other nature lovers. His essay on the botanic gardens helps us see the familiar anew and deepens our appreciation of a wondrous ecosystem in the heart of a city that was devastated by earthquakes between 2010 – 2012. I see this writing and its celebration of the regenerating and life affirming aspects of nature, as a counterpoint to the destruction and havoc caused by the seismic eruptions. Steven's site is a rich source of education and enlightenment one I will return to it again and again to enjoy the well-researched content and the liquid clarity of his photographic compositions, especially those of birds in flight, on water, feeding and in repose. To learn more about Steve and the origins of his love of nature and birds, read his piece on the bellbird ‘A song for korimako.’ There he describes his childhood in Geraldine, South Canterbury, near Talbot Forest:
”And in this ark there was in my childhood – and still is – a remarkable population of the glorious-voiced korimako; though, then, I only knew them as bellbird.
“My mother was particularly fond of fuchsia and her garden was full of this pretty shrub in many forms. The bellbirds shared her love, but for a different reason. They would descend upon our garden to hang upside down and feast on the nectar of the pendulous fuchsia flowers; their foreheads becoming thick with colour as the fuchsia took advantage of these sweet-billed invaders to spread their pollen from bloom to bloom. In winter we’d put out jars of diluted golden syrup and the bellbirds and waxeyes would come down – the latter in their many dozens – to feast on this free source of nectar to see them through the season’s fast.”
“At times, being so fixated on bloom or jar, the bellbirds would tolerate me standing right beside them, within an arm’s reach – oh if only I had a good camera then!”
”And in this ark there was in my childhood – and still is – a remarkable population of the glorious-voiced korimako; though, then, I only knew them as bellbird.
“My mother was particularly fond of fuchsia and her garden was full of this pretty shrub in many forms. The bellbirds shared her love, but for a different reason. They would descend upon our garden to hang upside down and feast on the nectar of the pendulous fuchsia flowers; their foreheads becoming thick with colour as the fuchsia took advantage of these sweet-billed invaders to spread their pollen from bloom to bloom. In winter we’d put out jars of diluted golden syrup and the bellbirds and waxeyes would come down – the latter in their many dozens – to feast on this free source of nectar to see them through the season’s fast.”
“At times, being so fixated on bloom or jar, the bellbirds would tolerate me standing right beside them, within an arm’s reach – oh if only I had a good camera then!”
