This is the road into Geraldine. Farms with cattle and sheep, old houses that could tell many stories, secret places behind hedges. Geraldine has only 2500 people. Sadly, it's been "discovered" and in odd places there's development -- houses on lifestyle blocks of land dot the landscape. Sad, in many ways.

This is an autumn photograph I took in a side street. There's a house down there, way down. The colours and shapes were exquisite.

Here's another one. I didn't want to intrude, so again it's from the footpath. There's a sense of peace.

And still another house. I was a bit annoyed that I had to poke my camera through the bushes, preventing me from a clear shot. But I was delitghted with this accidental result.

An old "immigration" cottage, built by the Government to accommodate new arrivals into the area from overseas. I wonder what they thought. No sealed roads, nor electricity, nor running water. A new land, the food very different from the cheeses and smoked meat and coffee, just boiled or roasted sheep and vegetables. Hardy people, resilient. Their genes survive today in the people in and around GEraldine.

Another small but beautiful house. To me, this house has a sense of old world grace, a bit like a very old aunt, straight backed and lacey.

Geraldine's domain, acres of land in the middle of town that's preserved for the people. That's Karen off in the distance. I'm not sure I'll leave her there. It seems a bit contrived. And it was.

Yet another old house. I am so pleased we were there when the leaves were turning. A couple of weeks later and the trees would be bare branches, the leaves all swept up and taken away. But for now it's breathtaking.

We wandered around town and found the Geraldine Vintage Car and Machinery Museum, which proudly claims to house 1400 exhibits, including the oldest working tractor in New Zealand. Suspended from the ceiling is a 1929 Sparton biplane, the only one in New Zealand and possibly in the world. This car is a 1928 Essex. The reason it's here is my grandfather took his family more than a thousand miles north to Cairns in Australia during the depression. It carried parents, three children, all their possessons and a dog that sat on the running board. This photo and a couple of interior shots will feature in the family history that I am writing. It was a real find. I have many great pictures of the interior, but I've had to edit them down.

This is a nightcart, being loaded on to a trailer for the parade. "night soil" was carried away in this cart from the old outside toilets. The job was done at night to protect the delicate sensibilities of the residents, hence the name. That's me, second from the left, helping to push the cart on to the trailer.