It’s after dinner, and I’m mellowing on the front verandah at the farm, looking out over the hills. The sun is setting but sky is cloudless and the cool air, blown in from the southern ocean, is so clear that the sunset is without a trace of colour – just thin shades of blue and white. A few birds call in the distance. The peacefulness was consummate.
Lillian comes out holding a herb-roasted chick drumstick. She sits beside me but as usual can’t keep still. She ends up laying on my shoulders like a sack of wheat, still chewing on the chicken.
“Daddy, what’s Mandarin for “yummy”?
“I don’t know… you’ll have to ask Mummy.”
She disappears into the house, coming out a few moments later.