I’ve been in kiwi country for over two months now and the only things I’m sick of are the clothes in my suitcase. I love the new towns and ever-changing views, the new people and their accents, the strong coffees, and the variety of work. It’s a constant stream of hellos, getting used to things, and then leaving. It’s an odd thing, to get so good at coming and going, but we’re getting there. We’re on our seventh job and our New Zealand phone is finally filling up with friends. I think our newest hosts would be top notch friends of mine and Erica’s in Asheville. And not just because they have an endless stash of freshly roasted coffee beans.

We spent three hours picking weeds this morning and Zak (around 3 years old) came out in red gum boots, jeans, a hat, and sunglasses, carrying his orange shovel. He’d go from my weed-picking-area to Brittany’s, then to Kasey’s, and he’d say, “You need help?” with his big blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight.  He’d shovel some dirt. Then he’d say, “They need help!” and run over to the others. He calls me Ivy, which is adorable and confusing. “Ivy needs help!”

Zak starting calling Brittany “Lucy” this afternoon. When asked what Kasey’s name was, he said, “I don’t know.”

We played soccer, did somersaults, and rested. 

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