My Favourite Window

November 15, 2016

Getting Up Again

Today this arrived in the post. 


I can't quite believe I got to the end of this course and am now entitled to put the letters Dip Edit after my name. A one year course of study dragged out into three, and I am extremely grateful for the patience and understanding of the staff at the New Zealand Institute of Business Studies. I am now a trained proofreader happy to accept work and with the added advantage that, from New Zealand, I can work through the Northern Hemisphere night to have copy ready for your morning. 

Certainly my mail this morning was the silver lining to the earthquake state our country has returned to. While I was planning this post around my new bookshelves I had thought of calling it Earthquake Recovery on account of the time it has taken me to start re-establishing order in my living spaces. That was before the latest earthquakes. Surprisingly none of these books fell and I suffered no breakages. It does seem that the deep piles this house stand on, and the silty clay takes a lot of the shock, though experiencing that midnight quake two nights ago was easily as shocking to me as the Canterbury earthquakes of six years ago. I lay tucked down beside my bed, for between one and a half and two minutes while the house shook violently but evenly, with a noticeable clonking sound. That sound continued after the shaking and I think that it was a combination of the curved roofing iron over the veranda buckling, and the heavy weights inside the sash windows swinging.



Bryony had been to stay over the weekend and got on with sorting and shelving books that had been out of sight and out of mind for far too long.  There's not enough room for them all and I have an embarrassment of riches in the gardening and plant lore department. I have decided that the copper sheathed corner wot-not is to be my sorting shelf for china sales, rather than having them cluttering any available surface.


Once again I am aware of the positive fatalism that I felt after the February 2011 earthquake. Death and destruction hover, and as I lay through the shaking the other night, I was quite prepared for my house to collapse around me. The thought of losing precious 'stuff' including my beautiful home seems quite acceptable now. I know the costs to mental health; I know that I can start a again; I know that I can recover. 

November 6, 2016

Silver Lining




Late spring into early summer. How lush and vivid and beautiful the season is this year, with frequent rain and not too many nor'west gales... yet.




The flowering cherries and orchard fruit blossom is fading a little now, making way for weedy may and broom with the promise of roses in full bloom in a week or two.




This rather wild garden of mine stills needs heavy physical work to keep some equilibrium. Faced with tasks like clearing the shelter belt trimmings, makes me especially grateful for Elwin's company in our years together. This season, this memorial day, are especially poignant with the promise of growth and new life all around me.





Apple Malus domestica 'Egremont Russet'
Wisteria Wisteria 'Caroline'
Quince Cydonia oblonga 'Giant of Gascony'
May, hawthorn Crataegus monogyna
Broom, Scotch broom Cytisus scoparius
Macrocarpa, Monterey cypress Cupressus macrocarpa

July 12, 2016

Peter Pan





Holiday time. And a term of drama school rehearsals comes to conclusion when Peter Pan opens tomorrow.  Yesterday I caught Peter Pan and Wendy out and about in Rangiora!






Today - from the fly floor - I watched everything come together in the final rehearsal. That includes Peter Pan flying above the stage! 

Peter Pan - A Magical Musical 
from the Hartley School of Performing Arts. Rangiora Town Hall. July 13 -16 2016.


July 9, 2016

Fog and Fungus



Get up and photograph the fog, I thought to myself pulling the quilt closer around my neck... But because I left it till the fog was dispersing I was rewarded by sunlight seeping through mist. 


Once I was outside with the camera, the cold didn't matter. It was time to capture this fungus basket before it melted away.

Fungus basket, Tutae whatitiri  Ileodictyon cibarium

June 26, 2016

Midwinter Celebrations

Maybe, just maybe, mainstream New Zealand is beginning to dispense with the idea that Midwinter in the Southern Hemisphere needs the idea of 'Christmas' attached to it.




The celebration of Matariki the Maori new year, is becoming more common amongst the wider community with its seasonal relevance. Kitty's school, Ao Tawhiti, which has existed for over a year on the two pre-merger sites, came together on Friday night for an evening of activities and feasting at the junior school's, Discovery campus. 


The children, staff and parents there had worked hard to create a festive atmosphere, and Unlimited staff and students contributed too. Kitty enjoyed painting faces for her younger schoolfellows and Florian's telescopes were a hit. It was the wrong time of night to see Matariki (or the Pleiades) whose reappearance in the sky at the end of May signals the time for final gathering in of food stores before the true winter weather arrives later in June.  Jupiter, Mars and Saturn were all in our sights however.



The hangi-cooked food and pot luck meal was a Midwinter feast to rival roast turkey and its trimmings. Meat falling from the bone; vegetables melting in the mouth and everything infused with the distinctive earthy, smokiness of the hangi.


No need for me to feel regretful at being too busy to prepare a Midwinter dinner at home for the Solstice. Earlier, when summer and autumn fruit was so abundant, I'd intended to put away something of everything to make our Midwinter dinner with.





This has been a family custom for me, dating to my father's involvement with Antarctic research programmes and the observance of the shortest day, whether he was wintering over or celebrating at an Antarctic Society Dinner. One of my siblings is a direct result of one of those festive occasions! Later my parents continued the tradition at home, always raising a glass to the men enduring the endless polar night.


A Matariki feast then, to end a Midwinter week that began with dancing at Dawn.



Of course I celebrated the Winter Solstice - a few days early - with a spot of Morris dancing. Brittanic Bedlam Morris Gentlemen hosted the gathering at Paekakariki with their usual flair and attention to detail. 


They warm my heart whether they are masters of the kitchen or fancy footing.


But so too does everyone else!



It has occurred to me that if we got up even earlier on the morning that we dance to ensure the return of the Sun (and after all the sun gets up well after 7 o'clock at Midwinter) we might be able to see Matariki ... 






June 1, 2016

The Merry Month of May

All good intentions to blog frequently, came to naught in May, but now it's been and gone it's still worth mentioning.

It was merry in all manner of ways from greeting the month in 


at the top of Mt Eden in Auckland...




generally having a good time...


















with gathered Morris dancing friends while celebrating Mayday...  
to serving on the fly floor for the North Canterbury Musical Society's three week season of Aida. This was the Elton John and Tim Rice rock musical rather than Verdi's opera.


Up and down this ladder the flyboys scuttled 



for some fairly lightweight action in this particular production 


(lots of down time for reading or just enjoying the show). 




While the stage manager's directions murmured between various production stations in my headset I marvelled at the quality of voice and instrumental music. Mainly this was due to ability and professionalism, but I noticed how all the intricate structural  woodwork created superb acoustics high above the stage - and close to me.


Although Kitty was on stage I have no photos of the production due to copyright reasons, so this is my personal experience of the show. I made a note of my position on the fly floor while I was working in the garden across the road. My task for the whole of May? Clearing the fallen leaves from the tree who's morning shadow graces the Rangiora Town Hall, reaching up to trace my corner, where on the other side of the ochre coloured wall, my chair and headset and hauling gloves await my return.


April 14, 2016

Heart Wood

The woodshed is all but empty.



Early in the day I tidied up the last of the small-wood I'd gathered to dry over summer. 



And I realised as I worked at my sawhorse, that today Elwin would have celebrated his 75th birthday. I remembered... because he made the sawhorse for one of my birthdays. He presented it with a hobby horse head, the children riding it into the bedroom dressed for chivalry with pruning saws for swords. I look back and think how his gifts like this one meant so much more to me than jewellery or lingerie or luxury holidays. A sawhorse is a perfect accessory for the forester in me!


Beechwood fires burn bright and clear
If the logs be kept a year
Oaken logs if dry and old
Keep away the winter cold
Chestnut's only good they say 
If for years 'tis laid away 
But ash-wood green or ash-wood brown
Are fit for a King with a golden crown.
Elm she burns like the churchyard mould
Even the very flames are cold
Birch and pine-wood burn too fast
Blaze too bright and do not last
But ash wet or dry 
A queen may warm her slippers by.


My stocks of various species are collected from my garden or the churchyard. I also buy to support fundraising efforts, as well as from local firewood merchants.  The rhyme above is an old English guide but here in New Zealand, I spurn poplar for its cold slow burn; I covet oak which does just as the rhyme says; I puzzle over gum, because the different varieties perform differently and I forget from year to year what burns how.  I accept pine gratefully; and would love to burn kanuka if it didn't mean clearing ancient stands to get good-sized logs. To my mind it is like oak - hot and long-burning once it's dry. Plum has similar qualities, and needs to season for a couple of years. There's plenty of that here, adding it's woodland magic to the Secret Garden.


By the end of the day I had taken delivery of twelve cubic metres of split macrocarpa or 'macro' as it is often marketed. I noticed that the firewood merchant wrote it as 'mack' when he made a note for me. It is in fact from Cupressus macrocarpa, introduced to NZ farmland because of its resistance to dry conditions, as Monterey cypress. The trees have an untidy but distinctive presence in the landscape. Here it is always called 'macrocarpa' never Monterey cypress.



Maybe there will be someone else to share my hearth and my heart with one day. I would like that: for today though my thoughts are for the richness Elwin added to my life.

Macrocarpa, Monterey cypress Cupressus marcrocarpa
Pine, radiata pine, Monterey pine Pinus radiata
Oak Quercus robur, and other species
Kanuka Kunzea ericoides
Gum Eucalyptus spp
Plum Prunus cerasifera
Poplar Populus spp