There are many bits of New Zealand that pleasantly echo English village lifestyles in old cozy backstories of Angela Thirkell or Dame Agatha Christie.
But this is another country, with its own skies and climates and trees and flowers and amazing birds.
And its own (at least in Palmerston North) charming semi-tropical living spaces, white breezy one-story houses set among gardens with dark, shady paths.
Did I happen to mention that I like Palmerston North?