At the end of winter, we put the puffer jackets away, spot ducklings in the rivers, and breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that soon we’ll have warmer days. Spring brings its ‘new life’ and bright colours, then all of a sudden, summer is upon us. We try to head to the beach for a swim after work and we enjoy eating dinner later in the evening! We have barbecues and eat outside until the mosquitos decide that it’s time for their dinner.

Then we blink, and autumn is here.

Autumn is my favourite season. I like stomping on the dry leaves scattered across the footpath – it makes me feel like I’m a kid again. I like how the air gets more brisk each morning, and how I have an excuse to switch to my winter duvet.

I wasn’t built for scorching summer days or the dampness of winter. While spring evokes a feeling of hope, autumn brings an impending sense of doom – the clocks will change, and eating meals outside will be a faint memory.

All the beauty of autumn becomes overshadowed by the idea of winter. Autumn is the prelude to winter.

To me, winter equals sadness. It’s the most expensive season of the year, and with that, it brings isolation and exhaustion. It’s a lot of slipping around in mud and getting my clothes dirty. Winter is frosted windscreens and freezing hands on my drive to work. It’s tossing up between wearing jeans and being warm, or wearing jeans that get drenched during the dash from the car to the office (and consequently, being cold).

This year will be different. I’m determined to change my attitude towards this dreaded season. I’m prepared.

I’ve come up with a simple strategy to get through my winter blues. I’m going to focus on these three things:

1. Spending time outdoors.

I love going for walks after work, but when winter rolls around each year, I become a hermit. Once I get home, home is where I’ll stay. This year, I’m going to encourage myself to go outside. Maybe the rain will clear at lunchtime, and I can spend 10 minutes outside appreciating how green everything is! Maybe I’ll go for a wet-weather walk without a raincoat, admitting defeat and embracing the freezing droplets of water as they cascade down my skin. Maybe I’ll go for more sheltered walks – or have a dedicated pair of walking shoes for the muddy tracks (my current shoes are white, and I’d like them to stay that way). I always feel better after spending time in nature, so this is at the top of my list!

2. Keeping on top of my health.

It’s almost impossible to avoid a cold during winter – but I’m going to be as prepared as I can. I’ll keep some Berocca in my tote-bag for those mornings when I wake up with a sore throat (my bedroom can get very cold). I’m going to try to get at least 8 hours of sleep each night, and I’ll fill my body with nutritious kai (lots of garlic & ginger)!

3. Staying connected to friends and whānau.

I mentioned earlier that I like to be a hermit. It’s so easy to just snuggle up in bed, or next to the fireplace – reading a good book or watching a TV show. It takes so much more effort to get out of the house and spend time with friends. I’m going to try to have two ‘events’ per week. One might be having dinner with my parents and then playing a board game. Another might be grabbing coffee with a friend, or inviting them over for a cuppa. I might spend some time dreading it, but I know that I’ll enjoy spending quality time with my loved ones.

I’ve also been attempting to practice gratitude, especially when I’m feeling down. I’ve come up with a list of things I love about winter, something I’ll refer back to when I’m having a bad day.

I love:

• Curling up by the fire.
• Snow on te maunga.
• Roast Dinners.
• Frost on the grass.
• Trips to the laundromat.
• An excuse to stay indoors and watch movies all day, or play board games or video games, or do a puzzle.
• Baking and hot lunches.
• Picking up new indoor hobbies; making friendship bracelets, knitting, or learning how to play an instrument with YouTube videos.

Armed with positive thoughts and great intentions, I think I’m ready to tackle this next season. We’ve already been blessed with an abnormal amount of sunshine this May; perhaps June will follow suit. Regardless, I’m going to dust off my puffer jacket, find my woollen blanket and do my best to stay positive!

As I look out to the sea, my eyes are blinded by blue. The bottom of my line of sight is framed with green trees, and I can almost taste the saltiness of the seaspray. I turn my head slightly to the left, and just out of the corner of my eye, I see movement. My ears prick as I hear a chorus of greetings, of ‘how’s your day going?’ said through a smile.

The community surrounding Waimanako is vast and steadfast. It’s not just made up of the people who we see there every week. The roots run much deeper than that.

I’ve spent the majority of my adult life on the outskirts of ‘community’. I lived in Te Whanganui-a-tara for many years, cultivating a beautiful circle of friends throughout my university life and career, and for the most part, I stuck with them. I clung to what was comfortable. It was only when I moved back to Taranaki that I realised how much I craved community.

For me, growing up in Ngāmotu looked like smiling faces and warm greetings on our beautiful walkways. It was picnics at Tūpare with friends, and youth orchestra concerts once every school term. It was drama competitions and lunch-time band practices.

As I entered adulthood, I took all these relationships for granted. I moved away and didn’t pursue music anymore. I didn’t join any groups or teams, and justified my self-exclusion as ‘being busy’. Only when I approached my mid-twenties did I see the sort of effect this had on me. I had missed my home.

In the past four months that I’ve been involved with Taranaki Retreat and Waimanako, I’ve seen more aroha, more compassion and deep care than I had in a long time.

I wasn’t here for the opening of Waimanako. I wasn’t around to see the community that built Waimanako and nourished it into the vibrant, supportive hub we have today. But I have been around for our move to the Tasman Club; the farewell of the Metro Plaza, the transitional two-week period, and the opening of Waimanako tuarua.

A large part of my role at Taranaki Retreat is to capture what I’m witnessing. To take photographs and videos, and at some point, write down what I thought about it all. For the most part, that puts me on the sideline; I watch, I listen, and I take in all the beauty. I ‘capture’.

What I have captured has moved me.

I’ve seen the faces of those in deep conversation, sharing their life story with a listening ear.
I’ve seen kai gratefully accepted and enjoyed.
I’ve seen how a short greeting, a simple smile, can change someone’s entire day.

As we prepared to farewell Waimanako at the Metro Plaza, I got to witness the raw emotions of my team. This team has so much pride in what Waimanako is all about and what has been achieved here. As boxes were packed, furniture was moved, and we began to let our community know about our move, there was an odd combination of grief and excitement. Some of our team shed tears as they started their farewells to the Metro Plaza. Others quietly celebrated the move; a move away from the Metro Plaza floods, freezing temperatures and lack of windows to the outside world. Despite how each member of our team felt, all of us acknowledged the magnitude of this move and of the impending demolition of the Metro Plaza.

We had two farewell ceremonies, and I captured everything. Our first poroaki was for our street whānau, our second for our wider community. It was a celebration of all that Waimanako has achieved over the past four years, and a mourning of a place that so many have called home. Throughout our farewells, there were moments where I allowed myself to be truly present, to be unfocused on the camera angles or whether my hand was starting to shake mid-video. It was in these moments that I witnessed immense gratitude, heartfelt tears, and an overwhelming sense of community.

We take a lot of comfort in our ‘home’. It’s not always the place that we live, or where we sleep at night. For so many people, Waimanako has become their home. It’s been a space of safety, of support, of inclusion and empowerment. A place where everyone is welcome and everyone is cherished.

Although there’s been a lot of change – our location has changed, our menu is different, even our hours have been tweaked – our kaupapa has remained the same, and we will continue to be here.  

We hope that Waimanako i te taha moana – Waimanako by the sea – will continue to be ‘home’.