A Summer Holiday Season!

Christmas has come and gone on the farm, with minor fuss. We had a small group for our usual Polish Christmas Eve celebration, almost not enough for our bottle of vodka (which I insisted on us finishing; not the smartest move). The weather was lovely all week, and stayed sunny through the entire Christmas weekend, so on Christmas Day we got up, had raspberry scones and jam, then abandoned our presents to go hike on Mt. Arthur, picnic, and go to the beach. I'm never quite sure about Christmas in summer, but when its like this, I'm certainly not going to complain. Can you spot the santa hat?

Note: I didn't want to drown this poor website with photos, but I've added more Christmas photos here just in case you want to see more!

Life has been busy since I got back. I've dug up a bucket of potatoes, wrangled the cube of raspberries into submission (there are paths! They are now accessible!), set down paths, built trellises from bamboo, weeded quite extensively. Its amazing, though, no matter how many hours I spend in the garden there is always more to do. Part of that, I suppose, is living on a farm so there's always weeds from the pasture just waiting to get in. Its also fairly young soil. But really, that's also what gardens are like. Nature tends towards entropy, so there's always maintenance to be done. Not that I'm complaining; I love being outside, and the work is incredibly satisfying. I just feel like the days are slipping away into the soil, and somehow certain things never get done - like grad school applications. Hmm.

Probably the most satisfying part of the garden currently is finally harvesting and eating what we planted, like the crazy black radishes., or the stunning rhubarb pictured. There's something incredibly elegant about rhubarb in its stalk form, so sleek and shiny that almost no dirt dares cling to it. Of course, then I had to chop it up to make a rhubarb and honey compote (totally delicious and worth it), but that's the life of a vegetable. Its also amazing how abundant things can be; like the raspberries that have suddenly exploded into life with the addition of sun (in the lovely weather we've been having) and air from the paths I've dug. Summer, my friends, is a glorious time to be alive with a garden. And now its time to sleep, so that I can get up and do it again in the morning. My best Christmas and New Years wishes to all, and to all a good night.

Farm Doings; Wellington Report

I came back after ten days away to find a nearly unrecognizable garden. Apparently, while I was gone it rained - sometimes torrentially - almost every day. In fact, in nearby Takaka they recorded 42 cm (16 in) or rain in twenty four hours. There's been flooding, evacuations, mudslips, and road closures in the Nelson region (although no serious accidents). In fact, the day that I flew back flights were cancelled in the late afternoon. Of course, since my parents live on the top of a hill, the rain has mainly translated into huge amounts of growth in the garden. The radishes are huge! The beans are climbing vigorously up their supports! We have masses of zucchini coming, and generally signs that we will have far more food than we can eat. Which is a nice problem to have.

Despite rain, I managed to start work yesterday, including harvesting three different red fruits from the garden. They looked so pretty all together! I also harvested some absolutely huge radishes; actually, the greens are also tasty, sort of like spinach. Then today I harvested a bucket of potatoes in an abandoned bed while attempting to free some raspberry plants. It was a nice surprise.

Its incredibly refreshing to be back to eating from a garden right outside. I didn't realize how much I missed it, but it is simply so much more satisfying than shopping at a supermarket. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to live without a garden again. If you need more garden pictures, you can look here.

Anyway, back to the trip before I never go back to talking about it.
I think that perhaps I don't need to point out that I had, in fact, survived getting to Wellington since I am now at home back in Nelson. The ferry ride was grey and rainy, which was beautiful in its own way but didn't encourage spending much time outside (which is how I usually spend ferry rides). Instead, I huddled under my jacket, read, listened to music and finally took a nap. That last one was a popular choice. Finally, when we were approaching Wellington and rounding the bays, I went out on the deck. I could vaguely recognize the different suburbs as they passed; Lyall Bay with the airport, Seatoun, Miramar, Oriental Parade and finally the main harbor itself, with all the capitol city's buildings jostling next to each other at the base of the surrounding hills. It was familiar, and almost like coming home.

Unfortunately, the weather anything but welcoming. I could see my breath as we waited for our luggage to be delivered, and the light rain was cold. Despite stiffness and a sense of slight bewilderment at all the cars and people (where did they all come from?), I made it safely to Janet's, a lovely warm fire and some great company. It was good to be back.

It was pretty much great to be back all six days I was there, actually. I biked around, gardened, drank more coffee than I do at home, read, hung out with people - some of whom were my own age - and even swam in the ocean. I took some time to reacquaint myself with the city, including taking long walks with Janet's dog Roxy (Roxie?). I sold my bike to a fellow (past) Californian whose British boyfriend had an Italian name that confused me, so the fix-up-a-bike-to-sell-in-Wellington-to-pay-for-trip plan was a success. I also got really, really excited about urban agriculture, because its awesome. And I just enjoyed being in Wellington, because it is an excellent and in many ways beautiful city. Six days was long enough to get back into being there, and short enough to make me reluctant to leave. But I did need to go to Auckland to take the GRE. So off I went; the train ride was quite lovely, passing through some of the more isolated countryside and over breathtaking rivers. Its funny how people become familiar on those sorts of trips, making small talk, bonded by spending so much time in close quarters. I plan to do more train travel while I'm here; its such a pleasant way to get around.

We arrived after our twelve hours on the train into a grey and drizzly Auckland. With some help I made my way by bus to my dad's friend's Tim's place, where I received a lovely welcome and a welcome cup of tea from him and his wife, Sanna. Walking from the bus stop, I could smell the difference in the air, that certain sub-tropical warmth and humidity that Auckland is known for. And although that evening and the next day were mostly taken up by the GRE, I did walk around quite a bit of Auckland (honestly, I got a bit lost), and saw just enough to want to go back. It helped that Tim and Sanna are really awesome, and have a very clever small child who was absolutely charming (since when did I start liking kids? Probably about when I stopped having to take care of them as my job). Until later, Auckland. It was time to go from New Zealand's biggest city back to the country; I was happy to return home.

Its funny, actually. I felt like during this trip I managed to fall in love with New Zealand on my own terms. I appreciated it in the past, but before October it was never my choice to live here. Now it is. Its a slow sort of seduction, but I think I can see myself staying.

I also survived getting to Wellington! (and other places)

So the last post I wrote ended in a sort of cliffhanger; how can she get to Wellington? Is it possible? Obviously I made it, and not only did I make it to Wellington, but I then made it by train to Auckland and by plane back to Nelson. But let's go back a bit.

The second day biking (between Havelock and Picton) was both easier and more difficult than the first. It was quite a bit shorter for a start, only around 35 km instead of 86. There wasn't too much wind, unlike when I first left Nelson, and the road that I went on had much less traffic, and no huge trucks (unlike highway 6 that I had been on previously). Unfortunately, the route that I chose - around Queen Charlotte Sound - is infamously curvy and hilly, with about a gazillion switchbacks as it goes around the coast. Its beautiful, but feels endless and slightly treacherous. Also, it started to rain when I still had a ways to go, and I got soaked by the time I reached Picton.

When I first set out in the morning it was drizzling out, with grey mist oozing through the Sounds around Havelock. By the time I had cleared the first hill, though, the rain had disappeared and I was in understandably high spirits. The area is beautiful, the water unbelievably aquamarine and native bush fills gullies and sometimes even swathes of land. Since it was still morning and I was fresh, I felt like I could easily take on this portion of the world. I biked on.
A few hills and valleys later, I was slightly less confident. Luckily, the route is rife with ridiculous mailboxes, which helped me maintain moral. I tried listening to This American Life, but it just didn't feel right. There was, however, a lot of humming.The next hour or so alternately dragged on or flew by, mainly according to whether I was going up or down. I was stiff from the day before, so my muscles were taking things slowly; or rather, taking me to Picton slowly. The main problem was that I really didn't know how far I was from my destination, and nor were there any signs to help me out. Moments of elation at the scenery quickly soured toiling up hills, but overall I was plugging along at a decent rate.
Then, of course, it started to rain. Then it rained harder. Pretty soon it was coming down steadily and my clothes started dripping. A rain jacket is great, and I've very glad that I had one, but when it starts dripping into your face and down your neck that can be a problem. I passed two road crews who seemed to enjoy the sight of a cyclist pedaling against the elements; they probably don't get a lot of action on that road, so a soaked cyclist is hilarious. The main problem with the rain, actually, was how much I had to break going down hills. Its all well and good to go up a hill slowly, but when you have to go down it slowly too because you're worried about slipping and breaking your neck its seriously bad for morale.

By the time I actually made it to Picton I was wet, frustrated and happier than I have ever been to see bleak industrial shipping yards. I bought my ferry ticket, changed clothes, walked to a cafe and had the most delicious hot coffee that I have ever tasted at the Dog and Frog. I'm sure, in retrospect, that the coffee was in fact relatively standard, but at that point I couldn't think of anything more luxurious.

I Survived Getting to Havelock!

Perhaps that exclamation mark makes it look like I'm surprised that I survived my bike trip to Wellington, which doesn't exactly speak well of my sanity or sense of self-preservation. I never thought I would die, of course, but I will say that there were times that I thought the trip might be a really, really stupid idea. Mainly because, after biking only a handful of times in the past few months, I'm not precisely fit. Biking over 50 miles in a day is easier when one actually has the leg muscles for it, I expect. Hills do not make it any easier.
But I did make it! On Monday I left later than planned, and from Stoke rather than Orinoco, after derailleur adjustments got delayed, and a bike rack needed components to attach to my bike. I set off at approximately 1:12pm, eagerness outwaying apprehension. Unfortunately, with an inauspicious headwind greeting me right from the start, my confidence quickly plummeted. It also demonstrated that in its own way wind can be worse than hills for a cyclist. Luckily, my stubbornness outweighed any self-doubt, which is an advantage to being pig-headed. About an hour later I had made it around the coast and was facing a very tall hill after turning inland. Unfortunately (or fortunately) while we were driving over this same hill on the way to Okiwi Bay I had fallen asleep in both directions, so I only had the haziest idea of precisely how endless and twisty it is. It is very endless and twisty. I think what got me up it was both stubbornness and a sense of superiority to the vehicles that were passing by, who were not enjoying the scenery in the same intimate way that I was experiencing it. Of course, they probably thought I was insane. But the scenery only become more stunning as the road climbs, especially where native bush has been preserved from pine forestry.
Still, climbing endlessly isn't exactly wonderfully enjoyable, and after I reached the Rai Saddle (the highest point on the road) around 5:30, I literally burst into song. The main theme of the genius lyrics that I composed during my descent was 'I made it' repeated quite a few times, along with a melody that probably owed most of its structure to the influence of musical theater, particularly 'Into the Woods'. It will never be repeated, but it was incredibly satisfying.
From there on the trip was mostly downhill, through the Pelorus Valley following the river of the same name. The strip of relatively flat farmland that I biked through was bordered on either side by hills rising steeply from the valley floor, usually covered in the ubiquitous pine trees (weirdly, on the way to Rai Valley I saw a particular tree labelled 'Douglas Fir, Planted 1966. Why is this tree special? Because its older than any of the other trees grown to be harvested? But I digress). It was lovely and scenic and, most importantly, mainly downhill or flat. It was certainly the most enjoyable part of the trip from Stoke to Havelock which is, by the way, the green lip mussel capital of the world. So now you know, in case anyone asks.
By the time I caught my first sight of Havelock, at 7:36pm, I was incredibly ready to be done for the day. Even biking through the lovely pastoral countryside was not quite enough to make me forget that I had been biking for over six hours with only the occasional short break. This, by the way, is not quite the best way to bike tour. Next time I will go slower, take some of the mysterious tracks leading off from the main road, have a nice lunch. I will also bring bug repellant, take a map, consider camping, and have a better bike. Still, despite my mistakes, when I pulled into the hostel twenty minutes after my first sight of Havelock it was a beautiful evening with the sun setting over the Sounds, and I had gotten through and even enjoyed myself. I had seen beautiful native bush, a wild mountain goat, geodesic markers, weird art on road signs, waterfalls, big trucks, desperate flowers holding on for their lives on hillsides, picnic areas, tempting sidetracks, baby pukekoes, and much more. And all at a speed where I could really enjoy them.And the next day I only had twenty miles to go to get to Picton!

The Sounds

Despite living in Motueka for two years, we never made a trip to the Sounds, and now having been there I'm not sure why. We went to the Sounds to go fish for three days with Aamon, Wendy, their kids and Stu (a family friend), and they are truly stunning. Very much the New Zealand one sees in ads; stunningly clear turquoise water, steep green hills diving into the bay, rocky islands. But instead of being at a motor camp, or surrounded by tourists, we were renting a bach for a few nights in Okiwi Bay, a small fairly isolated hamlet with only a few permanent occupants. Its well known to locals, but off the beaten track enough that its pretty much just Kiwi families that visit to do a bit of fishing, like Aamon, Wendy and kids do a few times a year. My parents went with them a few years ago, and the invitation to join them and Stu was much appreciated this time around. There's nothing like spending intensive time with small children to make one appreciate life, and a few days of fishing, entertaining the young, swimming and eating haphazardly was just what the doctor ordered.

While Aamon and Wendy own their own (inherited) boat, we were on a rental with Stu, who luckily is an inveterate fisherman. He grew up in the area, and regaled us with tips and stories from the fishing he's done in the Sounds over the decades. In addition to fishing we also went scalloping, which Aamon was particularly excited about since the scallop beds have moved closer to shore this year and yielded an unprecedented bounty. According to Stu, though, which the Sounds have not always been known for scallops. Back in the day people didn't really care for or go after them, including Stu and his mates. Then one day, Stu and a few guys were out fishing and noticed another fisherman coming out fo the sounds with a fully laden boat full of sacks. Although he evaded their questions, they could see that the sacks were full of scallops and it piqued their interest. The next day they followed him out and noticed where he was having such luck pulling in scallops, and resolved to go out themselves. When they were successful as well, they told a few other people, like Stu's father, who told a few other people; and you can guess where it went from there. Last weekend, there were over a hundred boats out scalloping, many very successfully.

Our luck scalloping was mixed. The first day, almost nothing. We tried here, there, but only got dribs and drabs. It was enough, however, for me to have my first taste of fresh, raw scallop, scooped from its shell right there in the boat by Stu and rinsed with sea water. My god. I've rarely tasted anything more delicious. Hunger sharpened by sea air and sun, the scallop tasted light, creamy, like ocean foam and faintly sweet, with maybe a hint of apricot. It just melted. It was absolutely perfect. Luckily we got some insider advice for the next day, and our haul was much better, allowing me the privilege of trying cooked scallops as well (just lightly seared in butter, insists my father, or you ruin them. I think he's right). I like the roe better cooked, but the scallop body better raw; either way they are delicious.

But back to fishing. I've been freshwater fishing before, but never in the ocean. It was a complete mystery to me the way that Stu would choose a location to fish; I think it had something to do with depth, and something else to do with the proximity of rocks, but I could be wrong. Yet the first time that he handed me a baited rod, cast it out and gave me a few instructions, I caught the first Cod of the day! Success so early in the game had me hooked (sorry for the obvious pun, but I couldn't resist), and I was quite happy to go for hours. Really, I can see why people do like fishing. Out on the ocean, casting and reeling, waiting for bites, re-baiting hooks then casting again, its meditative and soothing. There's also periods of adrenaline, and periods of sheer beauty.

I returned from the Sounds exhausted by the sun, wind and children, but very satisfied. That night we attended a 7-course Greek-themed going away dinner for our family friends' daughter, complete with plenty of ouzo and wine. And tomorrow, I'm off to start my biking to Picton, to take the ferry to Wellington and soon to Auckland to take the GRE. The adventures never end! Wish me luck on by bike journey; its the longest I'll have ever taken.

And in rememberance of David, whose wake we attended today, a story from my mother. She asked David - a renowned and talented woodworker - for advice on how to get rid of scratches on one of their nicer cutting boards. Smiling, "you know what they are," he replied, "memories". Thanks for everything, David.

Finality

Today I was planning on blogging about our sunday trip to Mapua. The weather dawned perfectly, dad and I bike there, crossed on the new ferry to Rabbit Island, missed our ferry back, stayed for an extra hour, were an hour late to lunch. It was all very beautiful (the biking) and exciting (racing to the ferry and proving how easy it is to miss), and we even went swimming in the ocean for the first time this season. In general, a remarkable day.

But just this evening we found out that our neighbor, one of the most remarkable people I have ever met, died last night. Today was not a day without excitement, either - some apple champagne blew up last night, my mother found out she won a raffle, I learned how to sharpen tools and managed to cut myself on one (not seriously). But it all seems very pale now in comparison.

Its hard to think that other events are important in light of something as profound as death. This is the first time I've been so close to it; our grandmother died when we were one, but I don't remember it, although my mother says I was constipated for weeks (its funny how even so young we can register grief, even in unexpected ways). And I didn't even know David particularly well, although he was the sort of person that made an immediate impression. I want to remember him through attempting to be as generous, cheerful, delightful as he was. I doubt I will be successful, but all you can do is try. Which is really partly what living is all about.

Kiwi Voting, or, My Vote Finally Counted!

What adventures I have had over the past few days! First, as you may have guessed from the title, I voted in the New Zealand parliamentary elections. And, as you probably also gathered, for the first time I felt like my vote actually mattered. You see, in NZ you vote for both a local MP and a party to be represented in parliament, so you get represented twice in the parliament (sort of like Congress). And sure, the more conservative of the two parties won the majority which isn't great, but the Green party did the best they have ever done! Which is exciting (No prizes for guessing which I voted for, sorry)!

It being spring, and voting occuring on a beautiful albeit windy day, we took a hour and a half hike after voting. Luckily, the couple that own the land with access to the path were also running our local voting location. Hearing that we were headed for White Rock, we were told that their dog would lead us to the trail, and indeed, we were met by a friendly black lab who accompanied us all the way to the White Rock itself. When we arrived, somewhat battered by long grass and thistles on the way, we were greeted by fantastic views over our local area. On the way home, quite warm from hiking, we stopped at the river. It was a little high, and a little fast, and very, very cold, but that didn't stop me from jumping in. This was a foolish, foolish idea. My head felt like it was being squeezed, my chest was pumping and I swear my skin cells were screaming in anguish. But what better time to be foolish than when one is young! After valiantly fighting the current I made it out, and promptly concluded that it is not quite river weather yet; especially a river full of snow melt. Still, a day to be celebrated!

Celebrating, Farm Style (Update Two)

The get togethers at my parents' house are pretty standard; on Thursdays they hold Movie Nights, which could be more appropriately titled as Cocktails (or Any Other Alcoholic Beverage) and Appetizers (Usually My Mother's Cheese and Bread) while we finish cooking, Late Dinner with Wine, Hot Tea and Coffee with Pudding (aka dessert), Then A Film. Sometimes the Pudding comes in the middle of the Film, allowing people to digest somewhat before being stuffed with more food. Everyone one brings something, whether food, wine or beer, which is a Kiwi tradition that I quite appreciate. Overall its a lovely event, quite popular among their friends. In fact, while my parents were gone their friends (who knew their house-sitter) continued to occasionally hold movie nights at the house. So it is quite a Thing. Unfortunately, now that our dishwasher no longer works, its also quite a mess of dishes to deal with. But that is the price of hospitality.

Besides Movie Night, most of our social interaction involves inviting people over for dinner. We probably have dinner guests over three or four nights a week on average, which is great for using up food in the freezer and for a glimpse of the outside world. When we party, we party with food and - usually - some sort of media.

Not so for others. On 11/11/11 we attended the 11th wedding anniversary of Amon and Wendy, some of the first Kiwis we met back when we were first living in New Zealand and they were grazing sheep on the farm we were renting. The party was quite sizeable, almost overwhelming for someone used to relative isolation. It was a decidedly more rural crowd than the Movie Night regulars, and I spotted some gumboots and gorgeous hand-knit sweaters (could the wool be from their own sheep?). We may have been slightly out of place. Correction, we were slightly out of place. I, as a vegetarian, was especially out of place. The first thing to be offered to us in terms of food was grilled and sliced pieces of pork. Not for me, thanks. Amon, being very manly and knowing how to feed a crowd, was also grilling A WHOLE SHEEP. On a spit. My father, another Man of Meat, helped roast and cut up the beast. When it was finally done, Amon wound through the crowd offering bits from a tray. Passing by, he glanced at me and, in a tone almost sad, muttered "Well, this is wasted on you", and went on by. Sure is, mate.

Sheep aside (and I'm sure it was very tasty), the party was quite a good one. Kids running around, one with a split lip, loads of food, booze and a tableful of puddings for the taking, toasts to the happy couple and even fireworks. There is fun to be had in the country; you just need to know where to find it.

Fermentation Experimentations (Update One)

One of the exciting things you can do on a farm is attempt to create new and novel food items using the age-old technique of fermentation. Its a risky process; not only do you risk mold and possible food poisoning, but you never know when something might explode due to a build up of gases (as happened to some of my mother's first gingerbeer batches - and that was when she was still using glass containers).

So what we been making, you ask. Many a thing, as it turns out, soecifically things with elderflowers. This delicately scented, pale yellow flowering bush is one of the many things brought to new zealand by British settlers, and has been regarded as an annoying weed. We became interested in the flowers' possibilities when my father discovered a recipe using elderflower liquer in his pursuit of new and exciting cocktails. Traditionally the flowers are used make a lovely cordial, and can also be used to make champagne, so we decided to make all three.

Step one was the hunt for elderflowers. We heard tell of a bush on the road from Nelson, and pulled on to the shoulder halfway home to harvest some flowers. Upon closer examination (and a quick internet search), however, they turned out to be hawthorne flowers. Luckily, my mothers spotted some likely looking flowers on a bush at the farm of the women from whom we buy goat's milk. Were those elderflowers? Indeed, and Pam kindly offered to let us harvest some. So the following week we set out to harvest.

The recipe my mother had found instructed that one must harvest before the sun hit the flowers; something to do with natural yeast. Pam, who grew up in England, had always heard that you go out on a sunny day. We have concluded that this is because a sunny day in England is roughly equivalent to a clear morning in New Zealand; perhaps not a favorable comparison for England. After gathering, we set to sorting, cutting, boiling, stirring and distilling to make our mysterious liquids. All that done, we were left with a lovely and refreshing cordial (mix with water, then drink), and weeks left to wait for the champagne and liquer to mature. Just for kicks, we also make an apple 'champagne' using some of our large supply of apple sauce. Hopefully nothing explodes!

Back Online in Orinoco!

We're back, everyone! After ten days (!!) without the internet, we are back online, fully functional, and ready to search anything that comes into our silly heads. No more 'Well, we could look it up IF WE HAD THE INTERNET' or 'Let me just go check that, OH WAIT NO'. We have the power of a world full of knowledge at our fingertips. We are all-powerful.

Actually, I felt a little overwhelmed when I first got back on the internet. There's so much information out there, all the time! It was oddly restful to be solely in one place at one time, instead of x number of places (x being the number of browser windows currently open). Still, it is very refreshing to be able to talk to people again, and communicate!

First, though, Happy Thanksgiving! We shared the wonderful tradition of eating and well, more eating, tonight with some friends, and it was great. A table crammed with food, a large smoked ham, three kinds of sauces, potatoes AND sweet potatoes, six different kinds of wine, gravy, and three pies to finish (pumpkin, pecan and pear). Sure, its seasonally inappropriate in the Southern Hemisphere, but worth it nonetheless.

And now, speaking of communication, I will share some previous posts that would have gone up if we had had the internet. Enjoy!

Downsides to Farming (a delayed update)

I have discovered that there are unforeseen downsides to living in the middle of nowhere on a farm.
Just earlier this week I was delighting in the tan that my gumboots had given me, delighting in working on a farm. Now, unfortunately, I have experienced another side of farm labor; back pain. While there are a myriad of possible causes for back pain, in my case it seems to have started a few weeks ago when I re-did our compost piles - and promptly bragged about it. After slight soreness for a few weeks, I apparently tweaked it somehow, probably with my extravagant weeding technique. Its a bit of a mystery, but no matter what has caused it in the middle of planting season its a right pain (if you'll pardon the pun) to be laid up. Of course, I've done myself no favors, doing the absolute maximum amount of permissible movement while 'resting'. Today, after two days of partial rest, I decided to go work on a mulch bed. That, it turns out, was a bad idea. So who knows how long this will last; it will probably heal quicker if I get better at sitting still, but that is a tall order.
To make things worse, or perhaps just the back issue slightly less bearable, our internet has died. As in, the box channeling our internet is completely broken. We've been waiting all week for a new one to arrive in the mail, and the courier, for some reason, is held up. Apparently, when you live out in the country 'next day' courier service takes more like four or five days. For chrissake people! I'm injured! What am I supposed to do without the bountiful entertainment supplied by the internet? But really, there are things that I could do on the internet that I simply cannot without it, and being incapacitated would be easier if I didn't feel so darn useless.
That might be enough complaining. On the plus side, the weather has been clear and gorgeous (just in time for me to not be able to enjoy it - sorry, no more complaining), although with very strong, cold southerlies (the equivalent of northerlies in the Northern hemisphere). The garden is springing to life, especially in the greenhouse, which is a full five to ten degrees warmer at all times. Plus, we now have loads - literally- of compost with which to slather the garden and achieve maximum fertility. WHICH I WILL ONLY BE ABLE TO DO WHEN I CAN USE A SHOVEL AGAIN.
Alright, I'm no fun right now. Will try again at a later date, hopefully when my back hurts less. Or I just feel less bitter about it. Maybe when the internet returns....

Note: This was written a few days ago. We still (still!) don't have internet, despite the fact that it should have arrived at the latest on friday, and it is now monday; we've come into town to do a few things and I'm using the library's internet. My back is better, although perhaps still not at its best, and I'll try to go do some interesting things to write about!

I have a Gumboot Tan

Its official; I have a gumboot tan. For those who might not know, gumboots (aka wellingtons or 'wellies') are basically what we call rainboots in the US. Rubber exterior, quite stiff, fairly shapeless, about calf high. Traditionally worn on farms for their high durability and imperviousness (apparently that is not a word) to animal excrement. And mine have given me tan lines. Which I feel must be a mark of hard work living on a farm, so I'm slightly proud even if they look ridiculous.

Most of what I've been doing lately is clearing mom's 'kitchen garden' by the house. Its sort of like a treasure hunt, since many of the plants have been entirely - or almost entirely- covered by weeds. I'll be pulling some sheep sorrel and suddenly aha! there's some cilantro that came out of nowhere. There's rosemary in the clover, and cornflowers all over the place. Plus I think I might be saving the lives of our two artichokes, one of which already has a bulb! Of course, piecemeal weeding can also be frustrating, since its hard to use many tools. It should be nice when its done, though, and it does give me chance to be outside and work on the ever-attractive gumboot tan!

Speaking of farming, today we went to the 'Growables' expo in Nelson, which was all about plants, growing things (hence the name) and basically all things green. There were stands about trees, bees, permaculture, viticulture and everything in between. It was not only informative but also inspirational, and we came back loaded down with plants and big plans for the garden. In fact, we all came back and almost immediately went right outside to get back to work; which in my case meant recognizing that perhaps a lot of grunt work is necessary before big dreams can be realized. Still, my plans include planting lots of perennial plants, a possible water feature and some experimentation with different bed preparation methods. I'm thinking about contacting and/or joining some of the gardening groups around, to learn more skills and meet more enthusiastic gardeners. The future is wide open!

Cardoons and other Cookery

The aim of gardening is ultimately, of course, eating what you grow. And my family, well, we love to eat. I remember once a friend who had come to visit was astonished that my family began discussing what to have for dinner which still eating lunch; but that's just our way. Food (growing, cooking, eating) must be up to half of what we talk about some days, which is alright by me.

On the farm, there are certain priorities when it comes to deciding what to eat; whatever's growing in the garden, what cheese we have around at the moment, and using up something out of our over-stuffed larder and freezers. Yes, multiple freezers. The one in the house with more normal freezer items (i.e. icecream) and the chest freezer outside, which is pretty much just stuffed with 'farm meat). Did I mention that we also have multiple fridges? The two (two!) in the garage are for cheese and other dairy products. Don't worry, they're both small.
Anyway, its an interesting time of year to be cooking, because there is a limited number of things currently growing, some things left over from last year (including those already in jars) and a vast array of aged cheeses. Its an enjoyable challenge, figuring out how to use what we have. There's been yogurt soup from a Middle Eastern cookbook, various pumpkin things with pumpkins hanging out from last fall, versions of the delicious shakshuka from Smitten Kitchen made with mom's canned tomatoes, and a beet salad where all the ingredients came from our land or was brought from nearby (beets, fennel, walnuts, goat cheese, lemon zest). It was really colorful, too, except I only thought to take a picture until after we'd scarfed it all down. Woops. The first real cooking challenge that I came across was Cardoons. Ever heard of them? I hadn't. According to this excellent website that Marianne sent to me, this relative of the artichoke was originally eaten by the Romans, and spread through the Roman Empire. Its the stalks that are eaten, usually after being boiled and often in the company of cheese, milk or butter (the French often cook them in milk). These majestic stalks do not, however, grow well farther north than southern France. They seem to have been greatly desire by the Swiss, enough so that they attempted to create something similarly stalk-y by 'improving' upon beets; and Swiss Chard was born (for a more detailed version of the story, I recommend the website). Interestingly enough, we also have chard growing in the garden, although here they call it 'beetroot', which takes it right back to its origins.
Anyway, what do you do when you have alot of something weird and no idea how to cook it? Because these things are huge, and the stalks are definitely on the tough side. Luckily, Mario Batali, the well-known Italian chef, apparently loves cardoons (he says they have a 'sexy flavor'). My dad loves Mario's cookbooks, so we had recipes. Apparently, the key is to boil the heck out of them until they actually get tender. My second attempt, cardoon custards with a hint of nutmeg, was the most successful. Though really, anything covered in egg and cheese with a hint of nutmeg is going to be a winner. We'll see how later recipes go; as per the advice of a gardening book, I have now trussed up some of the cardoons to be blanched before eating, which might make the flavor even more 'sexy'. Plus, they look charmingly like some sort of weird Christmas present.

Seedlings Grow While You're Away!

We got back from a weekend in Wellington yesterday to find many new seedlings enjoying the spring weather. It kept raining on and off for the few days before we left, and I suspect over the weekend while we were gone, because we're seeing new carrot, radish, greens, and even volunteer cucumber sprouts! It seems to be the time for beans, especially - they're shooting up like mad. I always forget how crazy everything gets in springtime!
And the greenhouse! The zucchinis benefiting from the greenhouse's optimal environment are about twice the size of those outside, and they look healthier. There are plenty of volunteer tomatoes, too, growing from the seeds of the ones that were in their last year. Its strange to think that we'll have to be pulling out perfectly good baby tomato plants just to give ourselves some space (I think I'll have to get mom to do it - I'm not sure that I have the heart).
And Wellington. It was a lovely weekend, in which I went to a party! With people my age! We talked about urban concerns, like traffic and cycling and plays! We all had numerous social engagements catching up with friends during our all-too-brief 48 hour trip, ate nice food (very nice, I'm thinking now, remembering how much I love Malaysian food), and got to watch the Guy Fawkes Day fireworks over the Marina. On a slight tangent, I still think that Guy Fawkes Day is a slightly weird thing to celebrate. The man tried to burn down parliament, and you celebrate with explosives? I saw a few fireworks that looked a little too close to buildings for comfort, so maybe some Wellingtonians were getting a little too much into the historical side of the holiday.
All in all, it was a wonderful weekend. I do like myself a good city, and Wellington is a great one. There are charms to country life, however, and being away just makes you realize them all over again. This evening I took some pumpkin bread over to a neighbor's house, and the walk there was so calming. The air was still warm from the constant sun during the day, but dry with a hint of coming chill. The golden sunlight was fading away from the valley as the sun set behind the hill, and blue tones were moving in. I could smell blossoms and the creek, and the birds were making their familiar racket, beneath which was quiet. And there was so much green, unbroken by concrete, and such a variety of plant and animal life. Its times like those that you think perhaps, just perhaps, a country life is just about right.

A Garden Tour and Spring Rain

What with today in town and last Sunday, we've been off the farm quite a bit. This Sunday we spent the day on a Garden Tour around the Motueka area, a chance to be inspired (or disheartened) by the extraordinary efforts of other gardeners. I took lots of photos, but instead of boring everyone with them here, they're on my new Flickr account if you would like to check them out (I tried to pick the best ones, but even with my mother's fancy camera I'm just not that great at taking photos - my apologies!).
There are some truly lovely gardens out there, featuring succulents, water features, and gorgeous flowers. The ones that I admired most, though, had to be the ones that incorporate vegetables tastefully into their layouts. While I understand the love of flowers, I can't seem to wrap my head around a garden that doesn't supply food.
Still, many of the gardens had beautiful structure and were impeccably maintained; not quite how I would describe our own garden. In order to not get too disheartened, I had to remind myself that many of the gardens featured on the tour have advantages over our own. For one thing, none of them were situated in the middle of what is essentially a paddock, with invasive weeds just waiting to creep in from all sides. Also, we've done some fantastic work weeding. In the week and a half that I have been around we've cleared just about most of the major beds, and have started in on the edges of the garden, including the sea of strawberries that are pouring in from the Eastern side. Strawberries are so hard to grow in Texas that I assumed they were hard to grow anywhere; on the contrary, on the farm they are quickly expanding to the point where we might have to cut them back! What luxury. But to help prove my previous point, two pictures a week apart for comparison:

I think that counts as progress!


Today was a very, very rainy day. We went to Motueka ('into town') for some errands and lunch, and by the time we got back it had really started, going steadily from the early afternoon until night. Its not like Texas rain, which pours down thunderously then quickly stops; instead its more of an insistent presence, lightening then thickening again but extremely constant. So constant, in fact, that it turned our driveway into a little stream and puddles formed in every available concave surface. The sounds outside were lovely, the steady syncopated rhythm of the rain punctuated by occasional birdsong. Altogether, it was a pleasant afternoon to stay inside, and take a break from garden work to do some interior decoration and a spot of music. So that is what I did. As night fell mist formed in the valleys around us, combining with the smoke from hearthfires to slowly envelope the surrounding landscape, leaving us on what felt like our own green island, the other hills only vague shapes in the distance. Sometimes its really nice to live out in the country. Like the morning that I captured this sunrise.

Carpentry and Composting

This week, the weather decided to take a turn back towards winter instead of forward towards summer (don't you love how spring can do that?). Tuesday was lovely and warm, but then wednesday struck and with it came the rain. In fact, a whole day of rain, complete with cold southerlies. 'Ah ha,' I thought, 'the perfect day for an inside project', so I turned my attention to building a bookshelf.
Its all part of an attempt to help my parents make their house feel like home. Their 'living room' is currently rarely - if ever - used, and some furniture re-arrangement might just fix the problem. So, a bookshelf. Apparently furniture and wood are both quite expensive in NZ, so I thought I would make it out of wood we already have around, which sent me scrounging around in the garage. I sourced some wood, measured, planned, re-measured, cut, planned, re-cut, re-planned, got outside input, cut a bit more, planed some wood, began screwing it together... apparently, buildings things takes some work. In the process, I was taught a few useful things by my father, such as how to use the table saw and how to plane wood, something I am not very good at. Yet. I must say, I didn't expect to be improving my woodworking skills out here, although it is fun. Two days and quite a bit of work later, the bookshelf is nearly finished and painted quite a vibrant shade of orange. Perhaps I'll include a picture here soon.
Ah yes, and the composting. Our compost bins have been in a bit of trouble. Back when the weather was sunny, I dug out the bottom layer of our three section compost bin and attempted to dry out the very anearobic mush that had formed in an attempt to get it to turn into real, nice compost for the garden. Of course, then it decided to rain. Two days later, I've finally managed to put together a respectable compost heap from a combination of all three compost bins, from fresh to mature (but soggy). Having identified the main problems of my parents' heap as 1) lack of carbon and 2) lack of drainage, I made a bamboo screen at the bottom to allow water to leave the pile, and sourced carbon from anywhere I could thing of to feed it. This included my mom very kindly shredding paper in our pathetic over-heating paper shredder, gathering sawdust from my bookshelf-building, and gathering dry things from around the house and garden. Dry grass? Couldn't hurt. Eggshells? Why not. Old corn stalks? Perfect.Now we have what I hope will be a very successful and warm compost heap. I even found some useable dirt in the middle bin, so we're off and away and adding to the garden all the time!
Oh, and the radish sprouts came up today, after only five days in the ground! Luckily they seem to like rain and cold weather. I also just love the capacity of radishes to make any gardener feel accomplished. The always come up, they sprout fast, and they are just generally delightful to have in the garden. To radishes! Hurrah.

Humble (re)Beginnings

Its time for a new chapter in the life of Adventures Not So Far North. Instead of traveling and having adventures, its now time to have adventures in agriculture! I hope it won't be as boring as that sounds...

So, an introduction.

The Place: my parents' farm, and hopefully a few other farms in New Zealand and abroad.

The People: me and my family, plus other colorful (or colourful, as they spell it here) characters from time to time.

The Reason: I want to learn more about agriculture, and now is the perfect time. Besides, and you'll believe me when you see the pictures, my parents can use all the help they can get!

The Blog....

Its now my fifth day on the farm, but it feels much longer. Time seems to go much more slowly here – the pace of life is incredibly unhurried, aided in large part by the isolation of the Farm; going anywhere means really going somewhere, so often there isn't enough of a reason to leave. There's so much to do here, anyway, that leaving is both unnecessary and uninteresting.

At this time of year its late spring in New Zealand, so its planting time (last weekend, Labor/Labour Day weekend, is traditionally when Kiwis put in their gardens for summer, after all danger of frost is past). In our garden, where my parents were away for three months, its weeding and then planting time. So far we've cleared and planted four beds, and today we'll plant the greenhouse. We've put in cucumbers, radishes, carrots, lettuce and peas from seed, and butternut squash and sweet potato transplants. The beds we've planted so far, however, are the easy ones. Next up are the vegetable beds that are nearly indistinguishable from the paths that run by them since everything is covered in weeds, weeds and more weeds. Including the dreaded Sheep Sorrel, the Scourge of our garden. The Scourge is actually quite charming looking, with little red seeds pods on the top of talk stalks, but one can't let oneself be fooled! Even the smallest root left in the ground will multiply. Most of the other weeds aren't nearly as bad, and some - like the gorgeous orange poppies, are even pleasant. Sometimes we even discover edible plants that we didn't know still existed, like the occasional onion or chard. Some 'weeds' are edible as well, like dandelion greens. You never know what you'll find in our sea of weeds, but the results are sometimes pleasant!

Enough about weeds. In addition to garden work we have actually left the farm (proving that my prior claims about never leaving false). This sunday was the Ngatimoti School Fair, the school that my sister and I briefly attended when we were eleven. My dad spent the Fair volunteering at the White Bait Fritters (a Kiwi specialty) booth, flipping fritters (and snacking on them) with our family friends Aamon and Wendy. Mum and I went with a few of her friends and puttered around in the beautiful spring weather, browsing books, chatting with neighbors and buying a few plants for the garden, most notably a dozen soybean transplants. Maybe we'll get to make our own tofu, who knows!

We also went to Nelson yesterday to catch the end of their Arts Festival, most importantly an Urban Art exhibit featuring - among others - the UK artist Banksy and US art collective Faile. The exhibit included work by Kiwi artists as well, including a mysterious individual who anonymously submitted his paintings re-working Kiwi classic images. The exhibition was excellent, ending while we were there with an auction for the art pieces displayed. It was an entertainingly ironic ending to an exhibition with a decidingly anti-consumerist message. The exhibit took place at Nelson's Foundry Park, which is a kind of recreation of Nelson's past using old buildings that have been brought to the site. An interesting place for an urban art exhibition, especially since there was quite a bit of yarn tagging around the property - my favorite was a lawnmower completely covered, although wagon wheels were also quite excellent (unfortunately we forgot the camera, or there would be pictures here).

Finally, here are some everyday-type adventures that I have had so far. On Friday, a swarm (I keep wanting to say flock) of bees flew up the hill and over me as I was gardening. Apparently this is a pretty special and sometimes much-desired event, since its the prime opportunity to capture the Queen and start a hive on your property. Going for a run, I saw the first trees in bloom, as well as lambs, calves and even baby alpacas! So cute (and growing more popular as farm animals around here, it seems). We cracked open a four-month old batch of sauerkraut yesterday, finding it entirely edible under the thin layer of pink scum on top - apparently scum is okay, mold is not.

Stay tuned for more adventures! Cheese-making, weed wacking, cardoon harvesting... its all in a days' work on the farm.