Published in The Island Review, October 2015 (link to full text)
All the way along the road are the trees. Manuka. Always the manuka, reasserting its original dominance. This is not the fringe of urban settlement. This is within sight of the very heart of New Zealand’s biggest city, as proven by the volumes of traffic that pass me. But we are reminded ever and again that we are newcomers here, that the trees and birds owned this place before our ancestors came or the builders with their clever kitset houses in the latest models for each era of architecture. In every direction there is forest canopy, blanketing the rumpled hillscape, obscuring the marks of civilisation. The manuka swallows our roofs and we are at ease in the clattering greenery, for the land has been good to us.