We'd been in New Zealand for about a year: at Beeville commune in the Bay of Plenty, a few months in New Plymouth, a taste of Northland. We'd left the US- the farm in the woods of Vermont- looking for a better life, away from the madness and hysteria of cold-war, prosperity-conscious America.
I was just three: a white-haired kid floating a jandle down the Ruatoki River with his mum.
This is the house we lived in in 1963.
The blue house was next-door. I remember the two as twins, sitting on the hill- but now there are more houses, and these two are not so alike.
The Ruatoki River.