A measure of sunshine
“Have you got sun over there today?” he asks, texting from Taupo. “Not if shadows are a measure of sunshine” I reply, the cloud cover keeping the rays hidden from us. My friend used to live an easy two hour's drive away, the state highway now a mass of crevasses and broken bridges, an impossible journey. The ground closer to home is both vibrant and sodden, silt and rotting vegetables in contrast to our normally parched summer landscape. Sunshine is what we need here in Hawke’s Bay, the idyllic region devastated by Cyclone Gabrielle. The fruit bowl of New Zealand, the resort town, the Art Deco hub, a destination for wedding parties and retirees. Too much water, in too little time, has wreaked havoc, taking lives, destroying livelihoods. Heavy rain on my roof nearly a fortnight after the event has me on edge, the adrenalin pumping through my body. I dream of throwing bags into my tiny car, of searching fruitlessly for my passport, of forgetting important things. Yet I am lucky –