Saturday 28 December 2019

Life lessons from a bramble bush

I am COVERED in scratches. With even the best evasion tactics and gloves, I could not avoid it. Over two days we have both had a go at a monstrous blackberry bush (bramble) that has been growing out of reach behind several other bushes and trees. It had gone nuclear so something had to be done.

Our neighbour has also tackled it from her driveway. Still it growled at us.

Half way through hacking and clipping, with overhead branches pulling my hair, and thorns ripping my wrists, I had a glimmer of hope.

There, at eye height, in one of the dense bushes, was an exquisite bird's nest. She had very cleverly parked herself out of sight, and beyond predator reach behind the thick wall of tangled thorns.

I couldn't see the nest from the lawn or the neighbour's driveway. I had to get through the thorns and the challenges of branches that were dangerous in order to see new life.

There is something sweetly victorious about this. Here's to keeping bramble bushes at bay, so that new life can grow and be nurtured.

Friday 27 December 2019

Book illustrations 1936

I have one book from Dad's childhood. It was given to him by his god-mother, Miss Eva Creaser. She lived in the village where he was raised and was a doting member of his extended family. I met her as a child and went to garden parties in her large house.

In 1936 she gave my dad a book published by Blackie called "Read a story"

Here are some of the charming illustrations. Three of them could be prescient of his future daughter - a little girl threading beads, another one about to go on a journey and most important of all, a girl posting letters!


Grandma and the Temperance League

I am still finding tiny mysteries amongst the family ephemera. Yesterday I was looking through the few books remaining from my grandma's library. In the fly leaf of one entitled "Cradle Songs" I found the following:


Lady Aurea was the daughter of Lady Rosalind Howard, Countess of Carlisle. Lady Rosalind was a leading light in the Temperance Movement and insisted that tenants on the family estates "take the pledge". My grandmother was one such, as was her sister. I have the certificates to prove it!

Lady Aurea was older than my grandmother by a number of years. The book was given to grandma just before Lady Aurea's first marriage. But it is the date which is puzzling. Grandma was a teacher of small children (primary school age), so the subject of the book is not surprising. It is full of poems and nursery rhymes for little people. But why 4th July? This wasn't my grandmother's birthday. It could be the date she took the pledge I suppose. I am familiar with the "people from The House" giving out Christmas gifts to tenants and servants, but again, the date is wrong. Grandma also taught Sunday School in the village which was part of Castle estate. But Sunday School gifts were usually given at Easter or Pentecost.

4th of July.

I wonder why?


Tuesday 10 December 2019

When a lawn becomes a meadow

Our lawn goes like crazy close to Christmas. The chap who cuts the grass for us has no hope of keeping up with it. But I love it. I love the fact that the yellow flowers attract bees and butterflies.


Saturday 7 December 2019

The season of donkeys and Gnordic gnomes

A local village holds a Christmas market every year. This year I went for a wander without Simon, who was busy catching up on a well earned lie in. I came away with German bread and vegetables, no Christmassy stuff at all, so it didn't feel any different to the usual weekly market.

But then I bumped into the donk. A few years ago, they dressed him up as a reindeer (very endearing, but a bit daft - you could tell he was embarrassed). This year he just went round and greeted the children.


On arriving home, I cleared the mailbox, which is still being 'decorated' as a penthouse by the local starlings. Inside I found a parcel from a friend on the South Island. I had seen some cute gnomes on a Facebook page, and had made a throwaway comment that if anyone would like to make me one for Christmas, I would be their friend forever. Well, not one but three Gnordic Gnomes were sitting on the straw nest in our mailbox (when I last checked the Gospels make no mention of gnomes, but hey, come one come all) They are now my "wise men" and will stay out after Christmas is over.


Who knows, I might even find them a Swedish camel a piece and a star to follow.

Tuesday 26 November 2019

Paddock diary

Today was a first, I gleaned wool from the boundary of our paddock and washed it. Not sure what I will do with it when it is completely clean (this was the first wash only). I may try felting it into something.

I am also keeping an eye on our plums this year, as last year they were demolished by a variety of birds.

The fringe of the paddock is decorated this year with lots and lots of foxglove "bee apartments". So pretty.

Starlingist purges

For five years now, I have had a running battle with a family of starlings who like to nest in our mailbox. The first year we lived here, I allowed it - through ignorance.

Never again.

Getting out the nest after the birds had fledged was horrible. There were fleas, there were ticks and there was a dead bird.

It's not as if there aren't any trees or rooftops. We have 3 families of starlings in our roof and every year they make an unholy mess of the side of the house with their pooping. That's fine, it can be washed off. But I object to bird poop all over our mail, especially at Christmas.

So, in the last month I have tried a number of tactics to put off the starling. All have failed. I just took the photo below half an hour ago. I thought I had packed the fabric into the letter box well, but no, three inches of straw had been wiggled inside. The pile at the base of the box is the last two days worth.

Ask me at Christmas if we won the battle.

No cupboard is safe

Yet more forays into divine duvet comfort. Menace!

There is no escape for clean laundry and freshly dry cleaned quilts. The boy will seek them out.


Tuesday 12 November 2019

No mouse in the house

He is always trying to help. A regular clerk of works! Like most cats, he can't resist an open drawer or a linen cupboard full of squishy towels, blankets and sheets.

I've turfed him out more times than I can remember, and have actually raced down our long hall corridor to try and stop him getting inside when the door has drifted open. I have also accidentally locked him inside when he's buried himself out of sight behind tea towels.

"Have you seen Mango recently? He hasn't turned up for breakfast"

"Check the laundry basket first, then the linen cupboard"

Yesterday I was putting boxes away on the floor of the said cupboard and could smell the unmistakable scent of mouse. I was hoping it had run under the door and conveniently died amongst the boxes and cabin baggage cases. Apparently not. I started to pull out all the linen, and on shelf three found droppings and a stained apron, but no mouse. Minnie was long gone, there being a sizeable gap under the door to escape from.

"Blooming cat took home a friend"

So, the washing machine is now going full tilt - I suppose it gives me the chance to sort out what we don't use or need any more.

Meanwhile, he is still trying to help

Monday 21 October 2019

When the security you hire sleeps on the job

As I have mentioned a few times before, I sell second hand jewellery to support a number of charities. I love doing it, and my husband is very tolerant of every nook cranny and spare drawer in the house and garage being filled with sparkly things.

On Wednesday I'm taking jewellery to a local retirement village, invited by a friend who lives there. It involves quite a lot of work, as each place I go to is different, and I can't haul everything each time, so I select and sort and arrange on trays.

Today I imposed on Junior Ginger's bedroom. He somehow managed to squeeze in a nap, surrounded by tray upon tray of costume jewellery.

Not much of a guard cat I'm afraid.

Saturday 19 October 2019

I bet Paul Hollywood doesn't have this problem.

Living in the country with three city cats has been a learning curve. I did wonder how they would settle, but they have taken it very much in their stride.

Here are a few comments from my Facebook page today. It was one of those days when I had a LOT to do, and I was trying to get it all finished in time so I could have a nana nap. No such luck. The events took place within a space of 30 minutes, the time it took for my cardamom bread to rise.

Half way through making bread, I see 4 naughty lambs have escaped from our paddock and are charging around next door. Sheep dog activated, lambs grounded, yows giving them a royal ticking off! Who needs Netflix?

Mango tries to bring an adult rabbit into the house. I get to the cat flap before he does, and get out to try and rescue rabbit. Wrangle 8kgs of hungry cat, meanwhile the rabbit plays dead on the lawn. I try and encourage it to get up. It does, but Mango escapes and chases it at an illegal speed across the paddock. Sadly, I don't think it will escape a second time. So long as he doesn't try and get a lamb for dessert. 15 minutes ago I'd refused to give him an extra lunch, so he got his own takeaway. Blooming menace!


Caught Mango, who is slithery with the damp grass. Rabbit should get an Oscar for the death performance. I took the cat out with a flying tackle near the paddock gate. Rabbit is thumbing a lift home and the ginger murderer is now locked up.

Well at least the bread worked out OK

Tuesday 8 October 2019

Dawdling at dusk

Our cats like to take us for walks in the garden in the evening. This evening, I was out assessing a few of our trees which appear to have suffered in recent weird weather. Two of them on the border may need to be cut down, but it will mean more light for the trees lining the driveway.

As I bent down to check the base of one tree, I heard the thundering of 8 kgs of ginger tom charging up the driveway then up the tree.

The photos are out of focus due to the lack of light, but you get the general idea. Simon came out later to check the tree, and caught Mango about to spring on Ruppin, who was hiding, as is his wont, under the agapanthus.

Wednesday 18 September 2019

Surviving the frosts

We had a mild winter and now are being treated to a few days of severe spring - lots of heavy frost mornings. The lambs are surviving, I'm relieved to report


And if you have ever wanted to see what the verb "to gambol" looks like, here is one of the munchkins at "Gambol o'clock" (usually around 4.30pm)

Monday 2 September 2019

Channeling my inner Women's Institute


Due to double the annual August rainfall last month, our lemon tree has done rather well. The tree doesn't get sprayed, or in fact get any attention, so the lemons are gnarly and need to have some of the outer skin scraped. But apart from that they are juicy and delicious. I decided to pickle mine, as they are fabulous in summer salads or cooked with rice.

I suppose you could say I've been nudged a bit this year, to do more in the way of homesteading. Part of the nudge has come from the amazing book by Julie Summers "Jambusters" about the role of the Women's Institute in feeding Britain during WWII. Not only did they produce potatoes, root vegetables, tree fruit and soft fruit by the 1000's of hundredweight, but they were also responsible for organising, caring for feeding and housing the majority of evacuees during the worst periods of the conflict.

A small fact from the book. After the 1940 fruit harvest, the nation's Women's institute made over 1000 tonnes of jam = 1 million kilograms or 4 million half pound jars.

I thoroughly recommend the book. It is compelling to read about the War through the eyes of the hungry Home Front.

Wednesday 28 August 2019

A tale of two prices, and a turkey


(Snow capped mountains on the horizon are the Kaikoura range on the S. Island)

We've been to the capital today, as hubby had to have the first part of a dental implant. Habitually, when we head south, we stop at a small seaside village for a cup of coffee and I usually sneak into the local charity shop, to see what I can see.

Today was a tale of two price tickets. But let me back up the truck a second for some context. As a child and teenager I was always the 'wrong' size for clothes which were age appropriate. Too tall too soon. It didn't matter though, as my mum was a seamstress and could sew up an outfit quicker than I could do my music homework. In adulthood I seemed doomed to live in countries where the average height was 5 inches shorter than me. So trousers were half mast, skirts were all wrong and shoes had to be bought in special shops for "tall" people.

Now in late middle age I have gained weight too, so shopping is miserable, depressing and / or prohibitively expensive.

Back to the seaside charity shop. I went looking for ANYTHING that might fit, but was inexplicably drawn to a row of sandals which looked new. I almost didn't bother checking the size, but wonder of wonders, a pair of Hush Puppies for $20. And they fit, and I liked them! Sold to the lady in the Damask shirt.

Later in the day, waiting for hubby to recover from an anaesthetic, I wandered into a well known shop for Ladies Of A Certain Build. I have no idea why I bothered because their clothes are generally strange and black and overpriced. A very helpful sales assistant (5'4" at a guess) pulled out pair after pair of trousers, all predictably 4" too short, until miraculously a navy pair emerged from a window display, all floaty and silky and heavenly - a mere $497. Sigh. I made my excuses and left.

In the midst of the sartorial highs and lows, a turkey. We went to a wholesale grocer en route too. I scratched my head because we aren't exactly close to Thanksgiving (for our American immigrants) or Christmas for everyone else. Huge, frozen turkeys for $136. I nearly fainted into the freezer. For that turkey I could buy 6 and a half pairs of sandals or half a trouser leg.

Tuesday 20 August 2019

They always choose rough weather

We've noticed over the years that the sheep in these parts have an internal clock 'wired' for harsh weather. They wait until either the frosts harden the land or the snow falls THEN they give birth!

I have just returned from a walk along our road. It was minus 1 degrees last night and this morning there were new lambs. I couldn't photograph the really young ones, they were too shy and mum was too protective. But there are a few fattening up and who will prosper as the spring breaks in a few weeks.


We have also had flooding locally in the last week. Our local river was very high, but mercifully cut too low through earthquake hewn scenery to be a flood risk.


The evenings have been cold enough for wood fires and the warmth of an office lamp to snooze next to, as our junior ginger has discovered. Not only does the desk lamp dry off any rain or frost on his fur, but he has cuddles on demand if he curls up in the in tray.


Senior female ginger has commandered the grocery basket, as it prevents drafts around her derriere!


And the nervous Tabby Boy, just does the alley cat knot to keep warm

Monday 5 August 2019

Petanquing around

Every Monday we drive to a local town and have a leisurely coffee. It is the privilege of being semi-retired, and I'm not trying to make anyone jealous.

The cafe has a pétanque area next to it, and this morning I got the 'rules' explained by a gentleman and his local buddies. We have an area to the side of our house which is rather useless for growing things as the sun doesn't quite get there (which is perfect on hot summer days). I am seriously wondering if I should measure out a section of the lawn for this activity.

Tuesday 30 July 2019

When there is more in the box than you expect

Today, as it is raining, I decided to start the task of cleaning and clearing out our walk in wardrobe. It stores clothes and shoes, but also all my family history research, old Christmas cards in boxes and tins of photos, diaries and papers, still to be worked through from previous generations.

Today I opened the box, for the first time, of my christening gown. I knew it was wrapped in tissue paper, but I have never had any particular curiosity about it and have just left it wrapped up. I got a shock. There wasn't one Christening gown, but four! I have no idea which one I wore, but I have speculated who the others belonged to.

There are two almost identical. I am guessing they were bought for my grandfather's elder siblings, twins born in 1901. They died aged two months. By Edwardian standards, my great grandmother was considered "old" to have her first children at 34. A year after their deaths, my grandfather was born.

The other two gowns, one very simple and the other which looks Victorian in design I have no guesses for. It is possible they came through my great Grandmother's line, as she had three siblings, all of whom died young. My great grandfather had five siblings, so I'm not sure the gowns would be in such good condition after 6 christenings.

I confess, I feel emotionally fragile after looking at them. A new baby represents so much joy, and yet how many of those hopeful aspirations were dashed as babies died too young, or suffered illnesses that had no cure.

I'm not sure which one I was christened in, but I am guessing one of the twin's dresses. I was a large baby and 3 months old before I was well enough to go through the ceremony. So much to reflect on.


Saturday 1 June 2019

Red Cross Book Fair

Last year we discovered an annual bookfair in a town 50 minutes drive from where we live. This year we went again. It was supposed to be a day out with a friend from the capital. But due to a truck having an accident on the road north, he had to abandon his plans and we had to go without him.

As usual, we returned with amazing books purchased for great prices. I even got books for friends. The great news is that there are so many sales during the long weekend, that they can fund the refugee resettlement programme which is run by them in NZ. During the year they store books for this event, and a cool guesstimate wa that there were around 150,000 for sale!

Here are "some" of my purchases.

Now to find some shelf space.....

Saturday 4 May 2019

Of pies and patches

I'm trying to whip up some creative spirit, after feeling quite dull in that department for some time. I am getting to grips with a large patchwork quilt project, and yesterday I made a pie for tea, with the most amazing pastry (thanks Jamie Oliver for the Cornish pasty pastry recipe!)


Today I visited a quilting exhibition held in a huge room which is part of a national car museum (Southward Car Museum at Paraparaumu in case anyone is interested to visit) Husband happily roamed around the cars whilst I went looking to jump start my creative engine next door.

I was delighted to find that there were a number of traditional quilts on display as well as the huge and imaginative quilts sewn by machine. The first few pictures are the style of quilts I have chosen to dabble in over the years, using fabric garnered from unwanted clothes or offcuts.


I was especially impressed by the number of quilts which incorporated embroidery - one was animals of Africa, so I had to photograph the warthog (my favourite creature from that neck of the woods)


Another autumnal quilt really touched the soul as it was covered in embroidered birds


The variety of beautiful creations took my breath away. Here are a few more


Then I found the fabric I had been hunting for on one of the many Quilting stalls - pomegranate design. It is as rare as hen's teeth.


So now the creative engine is chugging away happily.