Convalescent Home

Coneysthorpe has turned into a convalescent home! Two old codgers sit on the verandah in the weak spring sunshine, wrapped up in blankets and doing very little but doze or turn pages of books.

The two weeks of illness turned to six for me. I am into a second round of antibiotics, in the hope that an infection will finally be banished. Having heard gruesome stories from neighbours and colleagues at work about various sicknesses in our region, I'm not hopeful for a swift recovery! Hubby also went down with something weird. Thankfully we had food in the cupboards for ourselves and the cats, as neither of us were well enough to drive..........oh, I had a car accident just over a week ago too. First in 38 years of driving. Thankfully no one was hurt, but I really think I wasn't well enough that day to be alert, hence the bump.

Anyhow, enough of that. Here are a few photos from our beautiful Coneysthorpe from the last month.

Kereru in the Empress tree. They swoop with the grace of a wheelie bin and land with the finesse of sumo wrestler, or as I said to a fellow Kereru fan recently "They fly like a pregnant bi-plane with dodgy landing gear"

New lambs in the paddock. Mother bleats basso-profundo, which is slightly alarming both to us and her progeny!

Flooding - a post from June

In the last 48 hours the N. Island has been on the receiving end of disastrous rain. For 36 of those hours, the damage was so bad, the capital was cut off. State Highways 1 and 2 were impassable due to damaged bridges and slips. One of these was less than 2 Kms north of our home, so although we could drive south, we couldn't drive north. Anyone desperate to get to Wellington had to go detours the equivalent of York to London.

Our small road was also hit. We have a stream running across the area where we live, about 1km from our house. It was this raging torrent which took out the bridge on SH1.

Before and after photos

Postscript. This post was saved in draft form, because back in June our internet collapsed. Since June 23rd we have had other minor landslips on our road. We are trusting the entire hill doesn't take a tumble. If it does, our end of the country road will need to declare itself a land locked Republic!

Three Mousekiteers

Two months neglect of my blog. Shameful! My only excuse is a month visiting my almost ninety year old mother, two weeks of illness followed by a new job. It is a three month contract, but full time, so a tad hectic.

Whilst I was in the UK, my husband was adopted by a 6 month old kitten. The ginger beauty turned up one day on the verandah. He was completely famished. Beautiful, hungry, friendly and looking for love. At first I thought it might be our neighbour's newly acquired kitten. But no, a quick check via Facebook, and I received the reply, that Sir Ginger had tried to move in with them and their new kitten. We got him checked for a micro chip - none. He wasn't neutered either. So we concluded he'd been dumped in the countryside.

We always said that the spirit of Otto, our much loved and missed cat, would direct us to another cat. Well, the cat found us. Ms Ginger Diva Princess was a bit cautious at first, but as the new boy is very gentle, she eventually took to him and they play together.

Mr Shy Tabby Boy who is our Special Needs cat was hopelessly discombobulated. First Otto disappears, then I disappear, then a ginger tom swaggers into Coneysthorpe without a by your leave. Three weeks on, he has almost forgiven me. Little Ginger always nose greets him, and Lonely Grumpy Tabby is now hunting with him at night.

So here are the threesome.

Tipsy

My husband and I don't drink spirits as a rule - we have four bottles stashed behind the sound system in the office covered in dust: a bottle of gin purchased from Duty Free eight years ago (unopened), brandy (opened when we have colds), whiskey (my husband is allowed to drink this when I'm overseas as I cannot bear the smell) and Limoncello (used for a dessert I make at Christmas).

So, when I found our ginger huntress sitting amongst bottles this morning in the office and none of the bottles were upright, I knew something, yay verily, had come to pass. She is STILL sat amongst the overturned bottles staring at the floor under the cabinet. This is the part of the house where mice are brought during the night and played with. Each morning we have to check the patterned rug for skeletons or body parts of rodents.

Tonight could be interesting. Thankfully my husband's hearing is too poor to hear any clinking of bottles from the room three doors down, so he will sleep soundly through any hunting, I will lie awake, wondering if the cat is getting drunk and the mice will probably have a party.

Walking on the wild side

I never ceased to be amazed at the variety of life on our small country road. This morning the bird life I encountered on my walk was wonderful; plovers, an Australian hawk, kingfisher, goldfinch, fantails and a peacock! The peacock is the latest addition to a menagerie that is growing in the field next to the stream. It includes, ducks, sheep, very large chickens and a ginger pig, the latter obviously added to be the "spice of life". So, here are a few shots from my 2km + walk down the street this morning.

Pie Therum

There is something enormously comforting about making a fish pie. Because they take a wee while to assemble all the components, you should only really make one when you have a bit of time. My excuse today was that last night's meal was so disastrous (the remnants were put in my neighbour's mail box for her dog's dinner), I had to make up for it somehow. Enter the pie.

I think I started making pies when I was a student. I had a slightly strange recipe book from the 1970s which included exotic delights like Russian Kasha! Not sure how that recipe snuck past Brehznev to the West, but it did, and I once served it to a close friend (who still is, remarkably). I think that is why I always call this my Russian fish pie. Not necessarily because it would be approved of by a citizen of that fair land, but simply its proximity to Kasha in the weird cook book.

Today's offering is more of a Scottish, Kiwi, Russian, Greek Pie. I concocted it with mackrel, salmon (the Scottish part), hoki (the Kiwi part), mushrooms (shades of Russia) and topped with Agria potatoes, which I think of as Agora potatoes - hence the Greek connection! It had better make a spectacular entrance this evening at dinner, or I could be demoted to scullery maid.

Whether the Weather be cold

I am still adjusting to the difference in climate between Wellington and the part of the Horowhenua where we now live. It has been a spectacularly mild winter thus far (if you discount a few nights of minus temperatures). Sunny still days are the norm, and although I have had the fire burning for a few days, it is more to dry off the laundry and the luxury of feeling "snug" than sub zero temperatures.

This was the driveway a few days ago. It is now completely carpeted in cherry tree leaves, which look so beautiful, I don't want to sweep them up.

Our neighbour and friend, has recently given his rather long barbary hedge a trim, so now it is possible to see the blue roof of our house peaking over the top.

And on a walk on Sunday, I was finally able to catch a shot (on massive telephoto) of this local friend. He always seems to know when I'm about to photograph him, because it has taken me a year to get the shot!