Over the past month DH and I have been privileged to visit some spectacular places in New Zealand. As an adopted citizen of this country, I can appreciate the beauty of its countryside, its lakes, its river, its beaches (just not our local beach), and its mountain ranges.

But out of all the amazing sights we have seen, there is one that never fails to inspire awe.


I even wrote about it at one point.

Such was this weekend that from our quaint but comfortable accommodation


We woke to this sight (doesn't it seem like such a hard life?) ...


Truth be told, I was woken to this sight. DH, assuming I was awake, informed me that one could see the ski lift lights from our bedroom window. Still half asleep, and unable to open my eyes, nevertheless I forced myself to do so when he told me it was six thirty in the morning. (It wasn't. He'd read the clock wrong.)

There were more incredible sights over the weekend which we were able to share with Son#3 and DIL#3.


While DIL#3 enjoyed the last of the ski season, and DH and Son#3 went hunting, I was able to indulge in some reading, knitting, writing, photo-shooting, and, of course, some work. Who could not feel productive with such a view?




Today, we were able to enjoy more sightseeing, but always that mountain was there, looming over everything.



















I'm not sure what it is about the mountain that touches my spirit so, but it's enough to make me consider living beneath its shadow ... despite how much I hate the cold.

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