As we step into the new year, the world’s climate challenges have only grown more urgent. From devastating wildfires in Canada to record-breaking floods in Libya, our planet is sounding an alarm that cannot be ignored.
These events are more than news headlines; they are a stark reminder of the interconnectedness of our global community. Climate change knows no borders, impacting lives, economies, and ecosystems everywhere.
But with challenge comes opportunity. Across the world, individuals, communities, and nations are stepping up to innovate, adapt, and fight for a sustainable future. Renewable energy projects, reforestation drives, and grassroots climate movements are proving that collective action is powerful.
At Pen by Zee, I believe in using this platform to not only inform but inspire. Let us reflect on how we, as individuals, can contribute to this critical cause. Whether it’s by making mindful consumption choices, supporting eco-friendly initiatives, or simply spreading awareness, every action counts.
Let’s be part of the solution. Together, we can amplify the call for a greener, more equitable world.
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This week at Pen by Zee, we explored: 🌿 Mindfulness: How morning rituals can transform your day. 📖 Fiction: The introduction to Tides of Destiny, my upcoming novel. 🥗 Health: Superfood salads that promote digestive wellness. 🌎 Relevance: The rising climate crisis and its global impact.
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In the heart of Wellington, amidst the historic Beehive, policymakers gathered to deliberate a matter affecting countless New Zealanders: the minimum wage. The outcome of their discussions would ripple through households, businesses, and communities nationwide.
Understanding the Proposed Changes
On 17 December 2024, Workplace Relations and Safety Minister Brooke van Velden announced a 1.5% increase in the adult minimum wage, raising it from $23.15 to $23.50 per hour, effective 1 April 2025. This adjustment marks the smallest percentage increase since the 1990s.
The starting-out and training minimum wages will also rise, maintaining their position at 80% of the adult minimum wage.
Historical Context
To appreciate the significance of this change, let’s examine the trajectory of New Zealand’s minimum wage over the past five years:
Year
Adult Minimum Wage
Percentage Increase
2021
$20.00
5.3%
2022
$21.20
6.0%
2023
$22.70
7.1%
2024
$23.15
2.0%
2025
$23.50
1.5%
Table 1: New Zealand Adult Minimum Wage Rates and Annual Percentage Increases (2021-2025)
Economic Implications
The modest increase reflects the government’s commitment to balancing fair wages with economic stability. Minister van Velden emphasized that this decision considers the current economic climate and labor market conditions.
However, some labor advocates argue that the increase may not sufficiently address the rising cost of living. For context, the New Zealand Living Wage rate for 2024/25 is set at $27.80 per hour, significantly higher than the proposed minimum wage.
Industries heavily reliant on minimum wage workers, such as retail and hospitality, will need to adjust their payrolls accordingly. While some business owners express concerns about increased operational costs, others recognize the potential for improved employee satisfaction and productivity.
Interactive Element: Wage Distribution Across Sectors
Consider the following diagram illustrating the distribution of minimum wage workers across various sectors:
Diagram 1: Distribution of Minimum Wage Workers by Industry
Personal Story: A Day in the Life
Meet Aroha, a single mother working in Auckland’s hospitality industry. Earning the current minimum wage, she balances two jobs to support her family. The proposed increase offers a slight relief, but she wonders if it will be enough to keep pace with living expenses.
Interactive Questions
How do you think the proposed minimum wage increase will affect individuals like Aroha?
In your opinion, what is the ideal balance between supporting workers and ensuring economic stability?
How might businesses adapt to accommodate the wage increase without compromising their operations?
Conclusion
The forthcoming adjustment to New Zealand’s minimum wage encapsulates the delicate act of balancing economic prudence with the well-being of its workforce. As the nation moves forward, the real-world impacts of this decision will unfold in the lives of individuals and the broader economy.
Note: The information presented is based on data available as of December 2024. For the most current details, please refer to official government publications and announcements.
In the heart of Wellington, amidst the historic Beehive, policymakers gathered to deliberate a matter affecting countless New Zealanders: the minimum wage. The outcome of their discussions would ripple through households, businesses, and communities nationwide.
I will be writing a detailed article in a few days time after researching and finding more facts.
In the mean time please like and subscribe to my posts here at Pen by Zee. I try to write regularly on topics of general interest and interest to me. I am open to any feedback or suggestions.
I also welcome any donations or help that would further help me improve on my writing work.
The storm raged outside the manor, its howling winds battering the ancient windows. Inside, the air was no less charged. Aileen sat at the desk in the newly discovered study, her fingers trembling as she held the golden locket she’d found beneath the floorboards. The delicate clasp finally gave way, revealing two miniature portraits inside.
One was unmistakably Eleanor, her eyes vibrant with life and ambition. The other was a man whose face was partially obscured, but the intensity in his gaze was undeniable. Aileen’s mind raced. Was this Damien? Or someone else from Eleanor’s tangled past?
The room seemed to grow colder as she studied the portraits, and a sudden gust of wind extinguished the candles, plunging her into near darkness.
“Aileen.”
The voice was faint, but it echoed through the room like a bell. Aileen froze, the locket slipping from her grasp and clattering onto the desk. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she turned, her eyes straining to pierce the gloom.
“Who’s there?” she whispered, though her voice was barely audible.
The shadows seemed to shift, and for a moment, she saw her reflection in the mirror across the room. But it wasn’t alone. Behind her stood a figure—its form hazy, its features indistinct.
Aileen bolted from her chair, her heart hammering. She grabbed the journal from the desk and fled the room, slamming the door behind her. The hallway outside was no more comforting; it felt like the walls themselves were watching her, their warped wood creaking with every step.
She hurried to her bedroom, locking the door and lighting every candle she could find. The journal lay open on the bed, Eleanor’s elegant script beckoning her back into the past.
Eleanor’s Journal, 1883
Damien has been distant, his moods as unpredictable as the sea. The locket he gave me—our secret bond—has grown heavier around my neck. He speaks of shadows that follow him, whispers he cannot escape. I fear the manor’s grip is tightening on us both.
Tonight, he came to me with wild eyes, clutching papers he refused to let me see. “Eleanor,” he said, “if I should vanish, if the storm takes me, promise you’ll remember this: the truth lies beneath the rose.”
I pressed him for answers, but he only kissed my forehead and disappeared into the night. The next morning, he was gone.
Aileen ran her fingers over the faded ink, her chest tightening. The parallels between Eleanor’s time and her own were growing impossible to ignore. What truth lay beneath the rose?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door—soft, hesitant, but persistent.
“Who is it?” Aileen called, her voice wavering.
No answer.
She hesitated before stepping toward the door, her hand hovering over the handle. Slowly, she unlocked and opened it. The hallway was empty.
But at her feet was a single rose, its petals dark as blood. Beneath it lay a slip of parchment, folded neatly. Aileen’s hands shook as she picked it up and unfolded it.
“Meet me in the garden at midnight. The answers you seek await.”
The note was unsigned, but the handwriting was eerily familiar. It mirrored the script in Eleanor’s journal.
Midnight in the Garden
The storm had subsided, leaving the garden shrouded in mist. Aileen clutched a lantern, its flickering light barely cutting through the fog. She stepped carefully along the overgrown path, her heart pounding with every crunch of the gravel beneath her boots.
The fountain loomed ahead, its angels seeming to watch her approach. At its base stood a figure cloaked in shadow.
“You came,” the figure said, their voice low and gravelly.
Aileen held up the lantern, the light revealing an older man with a weathered face and piercing eyes. He was dressed in clothes that seemed out of time, their style reminiscent of another era.
“Who are you?” Aileen demanded, her voice steadier than she felt.
“Someone who has been waiting a long time,” the man replied. He gestured toward the fountain. “Do you know what lies beneath?”
Aileen shook her head.
“Eleanor’s secret,” he said, his gaze distant. “And Damien’s sin.”
The man stepped forward, holding out a key that matched the one Aileen had found earlier. “This manor is a web of lies and love, of betrayal and destiny. If you wish to untangle it, you must be willing to face the darkness.”
Aileen hesitated before taking the key. The man smiled faintly, but it was a smile laced with sorrow.
“Good luck, Aileen,” he said before turning and disappearing into the mist.
Back in the Manor
Aileen couldn’t sleep. The key burned in her pocket like a talisman of both hope and fear. The journal lay open beside her, its words a labyrinth she was determined to navigate.
As dawn broke, she resolved to return to the fountain. Whatever lay beneath the rose, it was time to uncover it.
But as she reached for the journal, she noticed something she hadn’t seen before: a faint watermark on one of the pages. Holding it up to the light, she saw an intricate design—a crest bearing the initials “D.M.”
Damien’s mark.
The past and present were colliding, their echoes growing louder. And Aileen knew she was only just beginning to unravel the Tides of Destiny.
Suspenseful and eerie atmosphere of the Manor’s mysterious Corridor
Chapter 9: Whispers in the Shadows
The rain came unannounced, tapping against the manor’s tall windows like impatient fingers. Thunder rolled in the distance, a sound that reverberated through Aileen’s chest as she sat by the fire in the grand library. The journal lay open in her lap, and despite the warmth of the flames, she couldn’t shake the chill that had taken residence in her bones.
Eleanor’s voice, immortalized in the aged ink, seemed louder tonight—more urgent. The latest entry Aileen had discovered spoke of betrayal and anguish, yet its final lines hinted at redemption:
“The truth lies beneath the veil of shadows, where no light dares to tread. To confront it, one must have courage stronger than the storm.”
The storm was here now, pounding against the manor as if trying to breach its ancient walls. Aileen closed the journal and rose, the hair on her arms prickling with an inexplicable sense of foreboding.
She wandered the hallways, her footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness. The house seemed alive in the storm, groaning and creaking as though sharing its secrets in low whispers. The chandelier above swayed slightly, casting moving shadows across the walls.
As she approached the staircase, a flash of movement caught her eye. It was subtle—just a flicker in the corner of her vision—but it was enough to stop her in her tracks. “Hello?” she called, her voice steady despite the racing of her heart.
There was no answer, only the distant rumble of thunder.
But then she saw it again. A shadow moved at the edge of the hallway, slipping into the adjoining corridor. Aileen felt a pull, as though an invisible thread was drawing her toward it. She followed, the journal clutched tightly against her chest.
The corridor led her to a part of the house she had never explored. The wallpaper here was peeling, the floorboards warped with age. A faint, sweet scent hung in the air—lavender mixed with something metallic. At the end of the hallway stood a door, slightly ajar, with a faint glow spilling from within.
Her fingers trembled as she pushed it open. The room was small, dominated by an oval mirror framed in ornate gold. Candles were placed haphazardly around the room, their flames flickering as if in response to her presence. On a nearby table lay a scattering of old letters tied with a faded ribbon.
Aileen approached the mirror cautiously. Its surface shimmered unnaturally, as though it were a portal rather than mere glass. She reached out, her reflection shifting oddly—her movements not quite aligning with what she saw.
Then, the surface rippled.
Eleanor appeared again, her expression anguished. Behind her stood a figure obscured in shadow, his presence looming and ominous. Aileen stepped back, her breath catching in her throat as Eleanor’s voice echoed faintly in the room.
“Beware the keeper of lies. He watches. He waits.”
A sudden gust extinguished the candles, plunging the room into darkness. Aileen fumbled for the letters on the table, grabbing them before bolting out of the room. The air felt heavy, pressing against her as she raced back to the library.
Safely back in the glow of the fire, she untied the ribbon around the letters. The handwriting was unfamiliar—deliberate and precise. The words within revealed a side of Eleanor she hadn’t yet uncovered. These letters weren’t to Damien. They were to someone else entirely.
“You promised me freedom, yet I am more trapped than ever.” “The house is not safe. He knows. He always knows.” “Meet me beneath the garden, where no eyes can follow.”
The last letter ended abruptly, the ink smeared as if written in haste. Aileen’s heart raced as the pieces began to form a disturbing picture. There had been someone else—a third player in this tragic game of love and betrayal. But who?
Before she could dwell further, a loud crash echoed through the house. It came from the west wing, where the forbidden room lay. Her instinct was to run the other way, but something compelled her forward.
The room was as she had left it, though the air felt colder, the shadows deeper. The mirror was cracked now, a jagged line running through its center. But it was the writing scrawled across the surface in dark, dripping ink that made her blood run cold:
“Leave now, or share her fate.”
Aileen’s knees buckled, and she gripped the doorframe for support. Eleanor’s story was no longer just a haunting memory. It was alive, pulsing through the house like a dark heartbeat, and now it was coming for her.
But Aileen wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet. The manor held its secrets too tightly, and she was determined to pry them loose. She glanced at the journal and the letters, now scattered across the floor. The storm outside howled in unison with the tempest inside her.
This wasn’t just Eleanor’s story anymore. It was hers, too.
Upon the jagged cliffs of strife, Where failure whispers, halting life, The weary soul begins to climb, Through storms of doubt and sands of time.
Each stumble bears the weight of pain, Yet seeds of strength take root again. For in the shadow of defeat, Resilience blooms beneath our feet.
The sweat of toil, the price we pay, Transforms the night into the day. With calloused hands and spirit worn, We shape the dreams for which we’re born.
Success, a beacon, far but near, Calls through the echoes of our fear. It waits beyond the path so steep, Where courage wakes from failure’s sleep.
And when at last the summit’s nigh, We see the world through clearer eyes. Each scar becomes a badge we wear, A testament to trials we bear.
The rewards of labor, sweet and true, Are not just gold or skies of blue— But strength, unyielding, forged by fire, And the heart that braved its own desire.
So climb, though falls may steal your breath, For triumph lies beyond regret. Through failure’s veil, success shall gleam, The hard-won crown of every dream.
This is the plant that I got as a Secret Santa gift. Before I write more details I would like to start with a poem for this gift
Ode to the Peace Lily
In the quiet corner, soft and still, Stands the graceful Peace Lily,
bending at will. A gift of life, wrapped with care, A symbol of love, beyond compare.
Its leaves, a lush and emerald hue, Whisper of growth, of skies so blue. Its blooms, like flags of truce they rise, A beacon of hope beneath my skies.
A humble guardian of the air, Filtering toxins, beyond repair. It breathes fresh life into my space, A constant reminder of gentle grace.
Oh, how it soothes my weary mind, A friend so loyal, ever kind. In its quiet presence, peace I find, A bond of nature and soul entwined.
This gift, a treasure, simple yet deep, A memory to hold, forever to keep. From Secret Santa, thoughtful and true, A gesture of warmth that endlessly grew.
It reminds me daily, in its serene way, To nurture the moments, come what may. To find beauty in life, even in strife, For the Peace Lily whispers the essence of life.
So here it stands, my leafy friend, A story of kindness that will never end. A symbol of care, a reminder to see, The magic of gifts and what they can be.
Support My Creative Journey At Pen by Zee, I share stories, poetry, and heartfelt reflections to inspire and connect with readers like you. Your donation helps me continue creating meaningful content while supporting causes close to my heart, like the Auckland City Mission. Together, we can make a difference! ❤️
Supporting My Blog Through Affiliate Links As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made through the affiliate links on this blog. These commissions come at no extra cost to you and help me cover the running costs of maintaining this blog, including web hosting, domain fees, and essential tools needed to create valuable content for you. Your support means a lot and allows me to keep sharing useful insights, tips, and recommendations. Thank you for being part of this journey!
Have you ever received a gift so meaningful that it instantly became a part of your daily life? That’s exactly how I felt when I unwrapped a beautiful Peace Lily plant during our office Secret Santa exchange. It was love at first sight! Out of all the possible gifts, this one was not only thoughtful but also filled with life—quite literally.
Now, I can confidently say it’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever received. Let me take you on a little journey through the world of Peace Lilies, why they’re so special, and why you might want to add one to your own space.
Meet the Peace Lily: A Green Companion
The Peace Lily (Spathiphyllum) isn’t just any plant. With its glossy green leaves and elegant white blooms resembling a flag of surrender, this plant is the epitome of grace and simplicity. Contrary to its name, it isn’t technically a lily but belongs to the Araceae family. Here are some quick facts about the Peace Lily:
Native Habitat: Tropical regions of the Americas and Southeast Asia. Blooming Cycle: Produces its signature white blooms multiple times a year, with each flower lasting for several weeks. Low Maintenance: Ideal for busy folks (like me!) because it thrives with minimal care. Why the Peace Lily is Pure Magic
Peace Lilies aren’t just pretty to look at—they come with a host of benefits that make them a true gem for your home or office.
Air Purification Superstar Did you know the Peace Lily is one of NASA’s top-rated plants for improving indoor air quality? It filters toxins like benzene, formaldehyde, and carbon monoxide, making the air fresher and healthier.
Humidity Hero If your space feels dry, a Peace Lily can work wonders. It increases humidity levels, which is great for your skin and respiratory health.
Stress-Relieving Aesthetic There’s something inherently calming about having a Peace Lily around. Its serene white flowers and lush greenery can instantly brighten your mood and create a peaceful ambiance.
Symbol of Peace and Hope In many cultures, the Peace Lily symbolizes peace, hope, and prosperity. It’s often gifted to convey wishes of harmony and goodwill.
Why This Gift Means So Much to Me
Receiving this Peace Lily was more than just getting a plant—it was a reminder of thoughtfulness and the small ways we can bring joy to each other’s lives. Every time I water it or see a new leaf sprouting, I’m reminded of the person who chose it for me.
How I will Care for My Peace Lily
Caring for a Peace Lily is as easy as it gets:
Light: It thrives in indirect sunlight. I’ve placed mine near a window where it gets soft, filtered light.
Watering: It will tells me when it’s thirsty by drooping slightly, and after a quick drink, it perks right back up. (How cool is that?)
Repotting: Peace Lilies love space, so I’ll be repotting mine soon to let its roots stretch.
A Little Challenge for You
Have you ever considered adding a plant to your space or gifting one to someone special? Trust me, it’s a gift that keeps on giving. Whether it’s for a friend, family member, or even yourself, a Peace Lily is the perfect choice to bring a touch of nature indoors.
What’s your favorite plant, and why? Or if you’re a proud Peace Lily parent like me, what’s your favorite thing about it? Let’s share our plant stories below—I’d love to hear from you!
Here’s to more gifts that bring peace, joy, and greenery into our lives!
The storm Eleanor had cryptically mentioned was not far off—Aileen could feel it in her very bones. The day was unusually still, with the kind of silence that pressed against her ears, amplifying the smallest sounds: the creak of the manor’s old wood, the faint rustle of leaves outside, and her own shallow breaths. The journal and the newfound key felt heavier than ever in her hands, as though they carried the weight of lives long past.
Aileen decided she needed clarity, and the only way to get it was to confront the lingering specters of the manor head-on.
The Mirror’s Echo
The mirror in the study had taken on a foreboding presence since Eleanor’s ghostly appearance. Something about it now called to Aileen, as though it held not only her reflection but also the fragments of a deeper truth. Armed with a flickering candle and the journal tucked under her arm, she returned to the room.
The mirror’s surface was once again undulating faintly, a ripple breaking across its silvery depths. This time, as she stepped closer, Eleanor’s figure emerged more sharply, as if waiting. Her lips moved, and though no sound escaped the glass, Aileen felt the words resonate in her mind:
“The garden was where it began… and where it must end.”
The connection severed abruptly, and the mirror turned flat once more. But not before something else flickered into view: a shadow behind Eleanor’s spectral figure, broad-shouldered and menacing, with eyes that glinted like cold steel. Aileen stumbled back, gripping the journal tightly, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Unearthing the Past
Determined to follow Eleanor’s clue, Aileen returned to the garden, where the neglected fountain stood sentinel over the overgrown remains of a once-beautiful sanctuary. The ornate key now felt like an extension of her, its cool metal grounding her as she approached the fountain.
She bent down, tracing the carvings of angels once more. One cherub’s outstretched hand seemed to point toward the fountain’s base. Digging through the soft earth, Aileen uncovered a latch—rusted, but still intact. The key fit perfectly.
With a groan, the stone base shifted, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a weathered wooden box, its hinges fragile but functional. Aileen’s fingers trembled as she lifted the lid to reveal its contents: a bundle of letters tied with a faded ribbon, a gold locket, and a small vial of what looked like dried blood.
The letters were addressed to Eleanor, penned in a hand both elegant and urgent. The ink spoke of love, betrayal, and despair, the words heavy with Damien’s desperation. One letter, however, stood out. It was unsigned, the handwriting jagged and frantic:
“The storm will not forgive. Neither will I. This house will be your tomb, Eleanor, and his too.”
Confrontation in the Halls
Aileen felt the cold embrace of fear as she returned inside. The manor seemed alive, the shadows growing deeper, the walls pulsing faintly as though the house itself was reacting to her discoveries. As she climbed the staircase, footsteps echoed behind her. Turning sharply, she saw no one, yet the sound persisted, closing in.
She broke into a run, her heart pounding as she reached her room and slammed the door shut. The candle flickered violently, then extinguished, leaving her in darkness. A whisper, faint but chilling, curled around her like smoke:
“You’ve seen too much.”
The air turned frigid, and Aileen felt a presence behind her. Whipping around, she faced an empty room—save for the journal, which had fallen open on the floor. The ink on its pages was bleeding, the words shifting and reforming:
“The truth lies beneath the ballroom.”
The Ballroom’s Secrets
The ballroom had always been locked, its grand doors adorned with gilded handles that spoke of elegance long past. Aileen hadn’t dared to approach it until now. With the journal clutched to her chest and the newfound locket hanging around her neck, she descended the stairs, her steps echoing ominously.
The doors swung open effortlessly, as though the house itself was inviting her in. The room was breathtaking even in its decay: a massive chandelier hung precariously, its crystals casting fragmented light across the cracked marble floor. Faded murals adorned the walls, depicting scenes of celebration that seemed to watch her with sorrowful eyes.
At the room’s center was a large circular panel on the floor, its design matching the carvings on the fountain. Aileen knelt and ran her fingers over the edges, finding the faintest groove.
The key fit once more, and the panel shifted, revealing a staircase spiraling down into darkness. Aileen hesitated, the weight of Eleanor’s words echoing in her mind. “The garden was where it began… and where it must end.”
Descent into Shadows
As Aileen descended, the air grew colder, the scent of damp earth and mildew filling her nostrils. The faint sound of water dripping echoed in the dark. Her candle barely illuminated the path, its flickering light casting monstrous shadows on the stone walls.
At the bottom, she found herself in a cavernous chamber, its walls lined with alcoves holding dusty relics: masks, jewels, and weapons, all seemingly untouched for centuries. At the room’s center was a stone pedestal, upon which rested a book bound in black leather, its cover engraved with a symbol she had seen before—on the locket around her neck.
As she reached for the book, a voice rang out, low and commanding:
“You shouldn’t have come here.”
A figure stepped out from the shadows, his face obscured by a hood. He held a torch, its flame illuminating sharp features and eyes that bore an unsettling resemblance to Damien’s portrait.
“Who are you?” Aileen demanded, her voice trembling but firm.
The man tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. “The one who has been waiting.”
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Support My Creative Journey At Pen by Zee, I share stories, poetry, and heartfelt reflections to inspire and connect with readers like you. Your donation helps me continue creating meaningful content while supporting causes close to my heart, like the Auckland City Mission. Together, we can make a difference!
2 cups lettuce (Romaine or butter lettuce, chopped)
1 large carrot (shredded or julienned)
1 small cucumber (thinly sliced)
1 tablespoon fresh mint leaves (chopped)
Juice of 1 lemon1 tablespoon olive oil
Pinch of salt and pepper
My apologies for interrupting the post but I think it is essential to disclose this.
Supporting My Blog Through Affiliate Links As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases made through the affiliate links on this blog. These commissions come at no extra cost to you and help me cover the running costs of maintaining this blog, including web hosting, domain fees, and essential tools needed to create valuable content for you. Your support means a lot and allows me to keep sharing useful insights, tips, and recommendations. Thank you for being part of this journey!
If you are looking for some cool accessories to help you prepare your salads please visit the below link.
In a bowl, combine lettuce, carrots, and cucumber. Sprinkle chopped mint over the vegetables.Whisk together lemon juice, olive oil, salt, and pepper in a small bowl.Pour the dressing over the salad and toss gently. Serve immediately for a fresh, hydrating, and digestion-friendly salad.
Benefits:
Carrots provide fiber, and mint soothes the digestive tract.Lemon juice stimulates digestive enzymes.
