Puddle

This afternoon my daughter and I went to the Waimakariri Gorge, driving down to the riverbed. The sky was blue and the winter sunshine had a little warmth, but light easterly breeze was cold. The river was in a hurry. There was evidence that it had flooded in the last day or so. Fresh sand was swirled into the scrub above the usual hight water mark.

There wasn’t much to see. Looking toward the bridge was looking into the sun. Everything, including the bridge was in silhouette. Out east the broad, almost featureless riverbed, stretched to the horizon. The sky was huge.

In the scrub where I parked the car there was gorse in flower, months too early. My daughter found that it had no perfume. Still, it looked pretty reflected in the puddles.