After a disappointing week in which I was forced to turn down three separate opportunities to see Milford Sound (the place to go if you’re ever on a short trip to New Zealand; less touristy and more beautiful is relatively nearby Doubtful Sound), faced the first of my final exam hurdles, and spent the weekend more sick than I can ever remember being, I woke to a quiet Monday and decided not to get up.

I have a few rules when it comes to not getting up, the first of which is that if I’m not wearing my glasses, it doesn’t count as “up,” and I can return to bed guilt-free. This usually results in me stumbling around the flat/dorm/house in a manner that ends in pain for me and hilarity for any observers.

On this day though, there were no observers, and my vision was good enough for me to note that the sky was that kind of blue that made you stop and think about it. I picked up and powered on my laptop with the guilty pleasure that I hadn’t gone near it for several days.

Ah, the beauty of that rare Monday that is part of a three-day weekend. Monday marked the Labour Holiday in New Zealand, which is akin to the US Labor Day in original meaning and Memorial Day in connotation. It means that summer, at last, has arrived. The days have lengthened an absurd amount since the equinox, the sun now lingering until after eight in the evening. Nights no longer dip below or even near the freezing mark, and while this is a signal for many to stop using their heaters, Dunedin hasn’t quite become warm enough for some of us.

Spring in New Zealand is something that must be seen to be believed. From my vantage point on the South Island, any direction vaguely east paints a dark strip of blue that is the Pacific. Invitations to backyard barbecues and potluck dinners are now a weekly occurrence. Talks of surfing, while never quelled during the winter, have now reached the lips of people I could never imagine picking up the sport, for example, me. I also live right next to Dunedin’s Botanical Gardens, so while any sunny day merits a jaunt through the native flora of New Zealand, the United Kingdom, North America, and even Africa, today seemed especially right to do so. I looked around my room with the somewhat sobering thought that I must begin the packing process in the next couple of days—locating half-forgotten rebel socks lurking in the seedy underbelly of the laundry room and whatnot—and headed out of doors, determined for now not to think on such things.

I spent the day doing anything, everything, and nothing. My Labour Day was fairly quiet, without any of that strenuous studying for finals and the like, which is what I believe the day is for in the first place, right? The day done, I settled down to study for my final the following morning. (Disclaimer: Mom, I promise this is not standard procedure for my tertiary education) Yes, it is a tough job, embracing the culture at all costs, but never let it be said that Jon Jackson was derelict in his duty to learning about this Land of the Long White Cloud.

Meanwhile, just to update you on the other flatties: Christa and Carsten bought a van and disappeared for ten days, and have only just returned from a jaunt all over the South Island. Marco and Dan did the Milford Track, the photos from which look amazing, and Marco’s still out on the West Coast doing some deep-sea fishing with friends. Hayley’s kept close to 10c over the last few days, but hopefully that will all change when she, Dan, and I head out to bike the Otago Rail Trail in a couple of days!

As everywhere, spring means new beginnings, and since I’ve been chronicling the beautiful budding flowers of New Zealand, I thought now might be an ideal time to share a few of them.