Lunch With the Birds

Sun (Auckland), Volume 1, Issue 42, 12 May 1927, Page 9

Lunch With the Birds

Nature Sets the Table Noontide in Albert Park THE table linen is emerald green, but what of that! Flowers bloom without fear of drooping—they are not imprisoned in crystal vases. Tree studies more beautiful than ever Corot imagined, and distant landscapes of dreaming bine haze and clear cut buildings are round the walls. . . . Lunch tastes much nicer when eaten in Albert Park.

Those who walk into the same city restaurant almost every day of their lives, hang their hats on the same peg and order the same food do not know the joy of lunching among the flowers and the trees, with the warm sun beating down and friendly birds forgetting their manners to the extent of paying a call during a meal hour. Auckland has a growing army of al fresco lunchers. The shriek of the 12 or 1 o’clock whistle is to them the call to the open spaces of Albert Park. Watch Phyllis or Kathleen, Doris or Priscilla as they dash up the slopes from grey city streets. There is joy on their faces at the thought of the hour that is theirs, and the sun and the warm, fresh air. Green sward makes an ideal table, glowing flower beds where the scarlet salvia stream blood-red across the grass, and the cannas shower their gold and crimson, make ideal decoration. The gnarled roots of the pohutukawa or the Morton Bay fig are the seats of kings. That shriek which signals 12 and 1 o’clock is known by every sparrow and gull for miles around. Watch them

flutter round the opened lunch packets! Then follows that brief half-hour when the world and its cares are centuries away and the sunshine woos the diners into dreamy forgetfulness. Away beyond the dull whirr of the city traffic, the blue harbour waters throw their streaming arms among sheltering headlands. Rangitoto drowses in her veil of distant blue, and the mountains beyond cut the azure sky with a stronger colour. Blocks of buildings lose their bold, harsh outlines and become magic castles in the air. Through the trees there are vistas of sailing ships and steamers at haven and ferry boats which are never still.

Or again there are the four spires of St. Matthew’s, emblems of solidity and faith, or the curious, airy tower of the University building which somehow sets one thinking of the travellers who took “the golden road to Samarkand.”

What dreams, what happiness comes to those who dine in Albert Park —so near and yet so far from the teeming city streets and bustle of vehicles which «pell modern civilisation!