"I've brought you a present", she said, she said

There was rather a lot of activity and interest around the cat flap a few minutes ago. Even the old lad got interested (the cat, not my beloved!) It would seem that Cumin has really settled in - her quarry of choice is now the mouse. This exquisite catch was less than 3cm long and hiding between the lenses of my grandpa's field glasses (that would have made him smile). I have always found colendar to be great catchers of mice. We let her sniff and play for a while, following Ms Tittlemouse around the inside of the colendar. Then we evicted one ginger huntress and I managed to get the field glasses away from the field mouse and capture her again under the white dome. Insert a large piece of cardboard, and hey presto, evicted into the garden and under the verandah she ran. One happy mouse, one disgruntled ginger and a black and white with a speech bubble above his head "What happened? Whereditgo?" Post Script two hours later. Poor mouse has been retrieved and brought into the house twice - how on earth she found it in 2 acres, I don't know!

Of Tuis and coconut ice cake

Today we had 14 visitors, eight for lunch and 6 for drop in morning tea and afternoon "hi and bye". It was lovely. Here is a cake I made last night and iced and transferred precariously to a cake stand. The tuis have been extra boisterous and noisy and putting on a performance for the guests. The photo was taken between cooking beef for lunch and making a trifle. I had to take it through a window, hence the strange blur (its the dirt!)

A new dessert tradition

Breton Prune tart / flan. So delicious it will be made every December from now on. Thanks to a friend who loaned me a French cookery book a few days ago. I have eaten this before but never made it and it really is heavenly. With very warm greetings for a very Happy Christmas from Coneysthorpe

Sunflowers

Our area is famous for growing vegetables, but there are also growers who supply the NZ and international market with flowers. We have lilies, roses and sunflowers close by. My beloved tried to cheer me up today with a bunch of these happy fellows. Why cheer me up? Well one of our cats has gone walkabout and we are really concerned about him. The weather has deteriorated (not that it worries him, he is out in ALL weathers), but the neighbourhood is unfamiliar and we think he may be lost.

Clean windows - showing off

Our two year old "kitten" who is still hiding inside the bed sofa, spent a few minutes on the kitchen window ledge trying to get out. His paw marks on the windows were evidence when the sun shone. Today's sky is sooo bright, I had to get rid of those panic streaks. Here is the shiny proof, and my favourite reindeer (who is an all year round ornament) showing them off.

Relaxing Saturday

By 10am I had bagged up 3 large black bin liners of dried out grass. Hubby did another quickly when it threatened to rain. The birds are delighted that we have turned over the grass and exposed more bugs and worms. I then squeezed some of the ugliest lemons "this side of the black stump" - as my friend Janet would say. One litre of lemon juice, for the use thereof. That, as they say, is a thing of great beauty!

Train mystery

This morning on the train, I watched, somewhat bemused as a passenger started to hang photographs from the roof of the carriage. I recognised one of them as the guard from the previous morning. I asked her what she was doing and she explained that on the last week before Christmas, the train passengers decorated the train with Christmas decorations. The train has regular commuters and the train company gives permission for the passengers to decorate their regular seat. The commuters also collect gifts to put under the Christmas tree in carriage no 4, to be distributed to a children's charity on the route. At the end of Christmas week, the train company gives a prize to the best decorated seat. One executive transformed his seat into a sleigh, two ladies had a snowman scene, others started with tinsel and baubles and hung snowflakes and streamers from the deck head. This Thursday, all the passengers enjoy a glass of wine on the way home. I can't wait to see what else transpires in carriage 4 for the next two days. Given that this is a farming area, I will be genuinely looking for tame alpaca, deer and sheep boarding with their owners.

The view from the office / sewing room

It is soooo easy to get distracted, especially when there is work to be done. I am gazing at trees and dreaming.......

Kitty Pile

Two out of three cats preferred to hide from the new house under the sofa cover in 22 degrees! Otto "I am a brave boy and don't mind the new place" kept watch on top of the sofa cover. We have to "pat down" all covers just in case the lump has whiskers.

Cumin discovered how to look out of the office window by perching on my sewing table

Verandah life

Living Al Fresco

I had regrets at leaving behind a wisteria plant at our previous home and a few fragrant "something or others" which had twisted themselves between the balcony struts. At Coneysthorpe, to my olfactory delight, we have two huge bushes of orange blossom amongst the hydrangea. So when we perch on the veranda after dinner and take in the view, I find my nose twitching "a la Cumin" at the heady fragrance in the breeze.

The best laid plans

....of cats and men. Due to very legitimate circumstances, our renovations have taken longer than originally planned. This has meant the cats will have to stay in one part of the house longer than we intended, so that the work can be completed and the builders gone before we let them explore. They are impatient to get out and about. Next week we will be back to work, which involves a lengthy commute. Hopefully by Christmas they will be roaming the gardens and paddock, swinging from branches and generally causing mayhem. One of the reasons I am not posting photos is that my computer is not yet unpacked. The area it will operate from is still a building site so I'm using my iPad instead. But the blog will be photo bombed later, so keep in touch.

The dulcet sound of thundering paws

One of the many charms of Coneysthorpe are the old doors. We have been keeping the cats confined to three rooms whilst builders complete one end of the house renovations. Early this morning, I didn't quite pull the living room door closed properly. The next thing I heard was three cats thundering down the very long wooden floored hallway. Honestly, it sounded like the Australian Light Horse taking Beersheva! All three escapees are now in the living room again, plotting the next foray.

Practising "being"

This morning I woke early, and was certainly not prepared to have my breath stolen from me. Sitting about three feet under the bedroom window was a very large hare. It seemed to know the place well as it then ran at breakneck speed down our driveway. Since we arrived on Saturday we have had no tV connection, no fridge and only half an hour ago an Internet connection. But in the first 24 hours we unpacked our new home. This morning I cut down a lot of trailing bushes, picked some early plums and hand fed one of the neighbours coos. I'm grinning a lot. This is good news. I haven't smiled much since before Dad died.

Nesting and the leaving

A few weeks ago, we were just about to sit down in the gazebo at our "local" when we spotted this charming lady.

Whilst we quietly drank our coffee she was demurely hatching the next generation of song thrush. We alerted one of the cafe staff, who happened to be a bird lover, so she hung a sign on the gazebo which said "bird nesting, please be considerate". Today I returned and heard that all four of her eggs had hatched successfully, although Henry, number four chick, was a bit of a wimp and by that stage mum was weary and needed feeding herself. So the cafe staff had been feeding an exhausted mother until Henry fledged.

This is what her nest looked like today, all cleaned out, nice and tidy, probably ready for next spring's occupation.

I shared time in the gazebo today with my friend and fellow cat lover Kathy. She came with me to deliver our furry family to a cat motel (the rooms really look like a motel), just around the corner from our new home. One cat developed a mezzo soprano howl for the 50 minute car journey and on arrival disappeared into one of the cubby holes in the room not to be seen again. My nerves were shredded enough to want to join her.

When I returned "home", this was the sight that greeted me. It is all rather strange. We have had 8 and a half years in our beautiful nest, "raised" four cats and now we are flying away. As I took out the vacuum cleaner this evening, I also took a leaf out of the song thrush's book. Leave the place tidy and clean for the next occupant.

Now is the hour

Today we start the move - two days of packing one day shipping and unpacking.

We have had the cats in lock-down for 36 hours. Poor things don't know what is going on. Little half wild cat is hiding under the sofa, big grandpa puss is wailing and flopping on the floor every half an hour looking maudlin. Ms Ginger is taking all the extra fuss and attention in her stride, after all "I'm worth it".

A sympathetic friend is coming with me for the 50 minute drive to the cattery. She is there to calm my nerves, not the cats!

So the adventure begins. Here are the family

A feathered promise

Over the years I've seen that confirmations of life decisions come in all sorts of guises. On Saturday I had the best indication ever that we had made the right decision buying Coneysthorpe.

It was a pheasant. It was sat in the middle of the road close to the house, and only took off when we were very close. I was so surprised as I didn't know that this country HAD pheasants.

There is a backstory. Some of my earliest memories of childhood involve pheasants, and they were all linked to Coneysthorpe. My great aunt was housekeeper at a stately home which had regular pheasant shoots. She was rather partial to the birds, but alive, not dead. So she would encourage them to hide out in her cottage garden, bribed there with lots of maize and other delicacies. It wasn't unusual to open her back door and find a live brace of pheasant sitting, waiting patiently for breakfast, as tame as the cats who were glaring at them jealously from the roof of her garden shed.

Then there were the pheasants we received from my great uncle who worked in the Estate office of the stately home. Dad used to pluck them for Christmas dinner and the cat was allowed to play with the feathered wing.

So, my heart skipped a beat when Mr Strut My Stuff Pheasant appeared, a wonderful promise of new memories made at a different Coneysthorpe.