But What Do You Do All Day?

In winter, when everything seems pretty grey most of the time, even when I'm not depressed, it feels like there is nothing to do, little to write about, nothing to write about, my life is boring and pretty bleak.

Then along comes spring with it's vibrancy and almost obscene lush growth, and I feel alive again. There's so much to do in the garden, in the orchard, in the apiary, and elsewhere around the land. In addition, I am working a couple of days a week. So now I am too busy to write, but even when I take the time to write I realise my busyness is unlikely to interest anyone but me.

Two days a week, for a couple of months in spring, I work for a local nurseryman, potting up native trees. I work in a beautiful garden, with a very knowledgeable man. It's tiring, but most enjoyable. The rest of the week is also busy, but mostly with work around home. Mostly enjoyable. Anyway, today I am going to answer the question I have been answering regularly, ever since I became a stay at home mother thirty five years ago, but with increased frequency now: "but what do you do all day?"

Here's Tuesday:

Did the usual feeding of the animals: cat; dog; ducks - also emptied, scrubbed, and filled their water trough; chooks and spent some time catching an escapee.

While collecting eggs, I discovered a dead rat in the trap I set about three months ago, and gave up checking about two months ago. This poor creature had eaten the egg, long since gone disgustingly rotten, and then died in the trap. I emptied the trapped and hosed it out and hosed it out again and again.... The smell was revolting but I managed not to vomit. Next job was to wash my hands with soap and hot water for a long, long time.

I then spent a couple of hours scything hip-high grass around the trees in the bottom orchard, and alongside the grapes and kiwiberry vines, then raking up the cut grass and distributing it as mulch.

After several glass of cold water, I swept the house, using the broom, as the vacuum cleaner is broken, and did a few more housekeeping chores to stay out of the hot afternoon sun for a while.

I sowed three long rows of carrot seed and one of beetroot, and raked up lots of mowed and scythed dry grass, spreading it on the gardens as mulch.

Mac had been mowing lawns in Raglan, but when he arrived home at a quarter to four we did a bee inspection. All four hives seem to be doing well, with eggs, larvae, capped brood, honey and pollen. I had thought one was queenless, and had ordered a new queen. The bees were all looking good and the hive I thought queenless was full of eggs and brood - what to do with new queen if it arrives? I sent the queen seller an email. (Two days later I heard from him, and as he hadn't filled the order yet, he cancelled it - a saving of $60 and a lot of work finding something to do with the queen.)

I chased and caught the chook again. (The following day I found and fixed the hole in the fence.)

I bottled the elderflower cordial, got the washing folded and put away, and on taking the wash basket back to the laundry, discovered the cat had knocked the next day's soaking chook wheat into the washing machine. So until such time as Mac can either take the agitator out, or tell me where his tools are, I'll have to use the old washing machine in the shed. I don't want to risk having the remaining, inaccessible wheat start sprouting in the filter!

Even after we both showered, I was too tired from trying to be self-sufficient in food to be bothered cooking. It was a beautiful evening so Mac suggested Hell's pizza for dinner - i.e. he wanted to go for a motorbike ride. I agreed, forgetting the hedges of privet flowers all the way to Hamilton, so spent most of the ride with my eyes closed, and my scarf shoved up my helmet acting as a makeshift air filter.

We ate down by Lake Rotoroa. I've been going there all my life. As a toddler: I remember the concrete igloo and concrete cars. As a child: the looong slide. As a uni student: swimming at night, and park-ups in cars, being chased along by patrolling police cars. With my own kids: Greg attacked by a swan when the bread ran out; Simon breaking his toe, me ignoring his complaints thinking he was just tired and grizzly. Coming here for a cup of tea with my mother after being told at the hospital she had terminal cancer (see below.) 'Happenings' in the seventies. Concerts. Walks with friends. Tonight, Hell's pizza with Mac. Still a lovely place.

Then across town to see Jeff, Konny, Steve and Heidi, and have a cup of tea before riding home in the dark - not that the dark made a lot of difference to me, with my eyes closed and scarf air filter.

Home. Hot chocolate. Watched Step Dave. Bed. Sleep. That's what I do all day.

Rotoroa

Children still drive the little concrete cars,

Crawl through the Eskimo house,

Feed the swans and ducks with stale crusts

At the edge of the lake

(though no-one swims here as we did

long ago when my mother was young

and I was younger still)

Young couples still sit in cars at night

Talking and laughing and loving,

Walk through the rose gardens

Guiltily picking a red, red rose, for love

(though locked iron gates

keep them from the dark side we enjoyed

when I was younger)

Families still treat themselves

On a fine Sunday afternoon

To ice-cream, sandwiches and drinks

At the lakeside kiosk

(though no-one remembers TT 2s,

and chocolate dipped ice-cream

is no longer as special as it was)

And we sit at the white-clothed table

On a sunny Tuesday afternoon,

My mother and I together

Speaking platitudes sandwiched with

silences

(What is there to say to an old woman

who’s just been told that death is waiting

on the other side of the lake?)

19/6/1999

This was written about the day years ago (Tuesday, 20 December 1988) when I had taken my mother to an appointment at Waikato Hospital and we had been told she had terminal cancer. Afterwards we had morning tea at the kiosk at Lake Rotoroa, just down the road from the hospital, a favourite place ever since I was a very small child. She died 11 days later.

Getting Growing

On 24 October  I went on an Organic Farms NZ field trip to Earthtalk at Awhitu which is owned by Tanya Cumberland and Charmaine Pountney. When they first moved there they had Kay Baxter of Koanga do a permaculture design and, with a few modifications, they have followed it, resulting in a delightful property. They were great hosts, and I loved how they gave credit to all the people who have helped with the work over the years. Some places I visit or read about leave me feeling totally inadequate as it appears that just two people do amazing work while both still working away from home for at least 40 hours a week! Tanya and Charmaine talked gratefully of their helpers, professional and voluntary.

an old mangle used to squeeze out the juice

They offered us, among other things, a delicious drink of sugar cane juice and kaffir lime - and I came home with a piece of rooted cane to try and grow - here's hoping. But even if it grows, I fear the possums will get it. Note to self: need to buy more traps, and a gun.

sugar cane growing near the middle of the picture

It was most inspiring and so since my last report on the garden we have done a lot of work. Mac and Steven, with a little 'help' from me, made me two compost bins out of recycled pallets from the rubbish heap around the back of Bunnings. On Monday we got three more so will be able to finish my three bin arrangement.

 

Mac has hoed and mowed, and I have weeded and scythed, and now the place is looking a lot tidier.

 last of the broad beans

We have planted potatoes,

 tomatoes, courgettes,

 cucumbers, 

tarragon, coriander and marigolds.

I've sowed corn, carrots, peas and beetroot.  They've gone in a bit later than they should have according to usual planting, but with all the wind, rain and cold I think it was a good thing we were disorganised! We have more seedlings which we will be planting out over the next few days.

We've had a few strawberries - and so have the birds, so yesterday I put the netting over them.

 The chestnut trees are looking gorgeous, and are starting to flower.

 The little olive trees we bought this winter were looking lost in the long grass, so out with the scythe, and now they are less likely to be tractor mowed.

 There are plums on the plum trees, nashi, apples, pears - let's hope they stay on the trees until they are ripe, and not blown off by more vicious winds. And I've planted passionfruit (again!)

 Feijoas too prefer to be kept grass free, so that area has also been scythed.

The ducks try had to keep the grass down in the orchard, but it was too much and on Sunday we attacked it: Mac on the ride-on we inherited from Greg, and me with the scythe.

It looks so much more like a picture postcard now. Being mowed hasn't stopped the harrier from stealing the duck eggs though.

It's all been pretty hard work, this reclamation from winter wildness.

A Summer Morning at Secret Waters

What a glorious day for a yeoman farmer! It was quite autumnal when I got up, not a cloud in the sky, but that crisp, cold freshness that usually comes later in late March and April. Great weather for scything though. Scything is best done in the morning before the dew has dried, and the grass toughened up. I am getting better at scything, and did around twelve trees before hunger drove me inside for breakfast. If I keep this up, then this year we should be able to find all the feijoas as they fall on the ground.

 After a larger breakfast than usual - I don't usually do an hour's hard labour before eating - I went out harvesting. I have only ever had one good year of garlic before but this year I have more than enough to keep both the vampires and most of my friends at bay for the entire year.

In my eager anticipation of our trip to Alaska in June 2011, I forgot about buying garlic bulbs for planting until I was checking emails while in Fairbanks, and found one from Koanga reminding me. The wonders of the internet - I ordered some online and they arrived the day after we got home. I ordered lots, assuming I would, as usual, only get a few to grow. Wrong!

Koanga was also offering tree onions, which I had never heard of, let alone grown. They too have flourished, and if they taste good, I'll plant more this July. And this year I will have plenty of healthy specimens to use instead of ordering in.

 

 A couple of years ago I bought a mini green house to start our seedlings in inside. It came from The Warehouse and only cost about $60, so we were surprised that it worked so well, and didn't fall to bits a month later. Now I have found a new use for it. Without it's plastic cover, it makes a great rack to finish drying off the garlic and tree onions.

 It was hot out there in the sun, so I gathered my lunch.

 And after a shower, I ate them with home-grown honey, and store bought yoghurt - must go and start some home made yoghurt now, using the raw organic milk I buy locally.

Then I'm going to settle down and do some work on my Apicultural Knowledge course.

Many people tell me "Oh! You don't work? I couldn't bear that, I need the mental stimulation of my job," just as they used to say the same thing when I was a stay-at-home homeschooling mother. Well, I find my life quite stimulating enough, thanks! Particularly in this wonderful era of the internet, which allows me to talk to distant friends and family in the evening, and of easy travel, which allows me to go to Auckland tomorrow night to spend an evening listening to really good jazz. The life of a modern yeoman farmer is a good one!

Rediscovering Berries

One of the problems associated with depression is lack of motivation, lack of energy, lack of interest. Over the last 18 months, as I have struggled with depression and spent a lot of time working to learn to deal with it, many things have been neglected. One is my berry garden.

This is my raspberry patch. Truly - there are raspberry plants in there somewhere! You can see how tall the grass is, by comparing it to the ordinary garden fork stuck in the ground.

This morning I started the renewal programme by uncovering the blueberry and currant bushes which were similarly hidden. They have been affected by the neglect: three were dead, and some of the remaining bushes don't look at all healthy - I will have to buy more this autumn - but we will get a few blueberries soon.

 This is the result of my morning's labours! It will compost down and then I will spread the resulting humus around the bushes.

 How could I have neglected them so? Especially when working my gardens and orchards leaves me feeling so good.

Spring Growth and Scything

Spring has arrived and with it the grass has grown swiftly and strongly, the fruit trees are blossoming and being pollinated by my bees and consequently setting fruit.

 

A pear tree, with my hives in the background....

 and set fruit.

Looks like we are in for another bumper nashi crop.

 The chooks are enjoying the growth in their run.

 The chooks enjoying food scraps and sprouted wheat, next to the korokia which has delicious (to chooks) red berries later in the season; and the fig from which we ate our first fruit last year. 

An apple tree and, behind on the fence, a boysenberry vine given by a friend - a huge mistake, as it is rampant but the chooks enjoy them.

I've never eaten vine leaves, but judging from the way the chooks keep the vine trimmed, they must be yummy! It's hilarious watching them jump straight up in the air to pluck a leaf.

We planted the pear tree, but both the avocado and the peach (just over the fence) have grown from seed thrown out with scraps, and are thriving in the rich compost made by the chooks. The avocado had flowers this year, so maybe next year we will get fruit, though I'm told it takes up to 15 years for a seedling to produce, and this is only about 6 years old.

 

The flax was brought with us when we moved here, and just dumped into the ground with no thought of where and why. Later we built the chook run around it. The chooks love the dry, shady spot that also provides snails and insect snack delights.

Mac mows with the tractor, and I used to clear around the trees using a line trimmer or bush bar. Neither the process nor the results were satisfactory. The process was loud and smelly, and often I gave up because the damn thing would stop and refuse to start again - I'm not really in tune with motors. The result was often a ring barked or damaged tree.

I now use a scythe, thanks to a workshop with The Jolly Scythers, and find it so much more satisfactory. The process is both good exercise, and a meditation practice. The results are better: I have not damaged a single tree.

Kiwiberries (tiny kiwifruit) and grapes - the scythe is so very much easier for freeing these from the grass.

 

 The Luisa plums were 'grassed out'...

 and looked better for the grass being cleared.

 My scythe.

And though the ordinary plums don't have much fruit this year, the Luisa is looking good.

 The grapevine on the chook run is looking good.

 The ugli fruit wasn't looking at all - it couldn't see out!

It's actually quite big! It had a few not-very-nice small fruit this year, but is covered with flowers at the moment, so I have high hopes for the next harvest.

Scything is hard, hot sweaty work, but I love the meditative quality of the time spent doing it, and the sense of satisfaction when I'm done. Over the last ten days I have done about half the trees, and by the time I'm finished it will be time to start again - but it's the sort of work I love, and it makes me feel like a real yeoman farmer.