To everyone who has called, written, phoned or posted me about my birth mother, and the dear friends who looked after me last Monday evening, thank you. It poured all morning the day of her funeral, but by the time we got to the church in the afternoon, the rain had stopped. She had been a committed, active member of its congregation ever since she came to New Zealand at the age of sixteen. Together with the family, they made sure that her whole life, full of courage and love, was fully recognised and celebrated.
She loved her garden, and I took a little garden of spring flowers up for her.
When I got home I brought my just-emerged daffodil - it was the first one I'd ever planted myself, supervised by Ali - inside for her, and for me.
*Bedtime means storytime. And all across the land, little eyes are growing sleepy . . .* This enchanting collection brings together much-loved stories an...
2 hours ago