This loaf of bread reminded me of someone when I took it out of the bread maker yesterday.
It was the comb-over and the colour that did it. In all other respects it is far more wholesome, I’m pleased to say.
Look-alike loaf
Category: Uncategorized
Hungry Hedgehogs
A number of “calling cards” around one of the chickens’ automatic feeders indicated that a hedgehog had been helping itself to the chooks’ food.
I solved the problem by putting pieces of wood under the treadle so the weight of the hedgehog would not depress it and open the feeder.
However, I was late home one night last week and found not one but two hedgehogs at the feeder, an adult and a little one.
In the photo you can see the pieces of wood which I put under the treadle, but the hedgehogs are waiting for me to go away before they depart. Perhaps the little one is too curious to roll up in a ball as the adult has done.
Four days on, and the hedgehogs are still befouling the feeder area. While the chooks are eating they often spill food and I guess the hedgehogs are attracted by that – as are sparrows. So a barricade is required at night time. A rubber doormat may do the trick, unless the hedgehogs can climb… Their feet are like hands and there are lots of hand holds here.
It’s raining mud!
No “hallelujah” to this phenomenon.
I was mystified by splatters on the deck this morning. My first thought was that a flock of birds had flown over and all let go at once. When I realised that the splatters were also on the roof and the solar panels, I wondered if an aeroplane, flying high above, had emptied its bilge tank. The splatters seemed to be like those you might find on your car after driving past an agricultural muck-spreader with a following wind. But, as I hosed and brushed the surfaces clean, it seemed that I was dealing with mud rather than bird – or other – droppings.
Chicken inspects splattered deck 
Human inspects splattered deck 
Splatters on solar panels
A quick check on the internet led me to discover the phenomenon of mud rain, where dust is swept into the air and brought down by rain, leaving muddy splatters as the water evaporates. This could be a result of our recent storm. It’s strange, though, that the affected area was just one end of the deck and one end and one side of the roof. Perhaps there was just one little dusty cloud up there.
A mighty artichoke has fallen
Strong winds woke me in the night. I could hear the trees being battered and wondered what the wind sounds like for people living in houses with no trees.
I thought of the tender new buds and new growth and the apple blossom. The main victim, however, was a large artichoke plant.
Luckily, the crushed dome and silver beet sprang back when I moved the fallen plant. I probably won’t be able to save the artichoke, but a smaller plant beside it is still standing – and producing buds. I planted both at the same time and wonder why one grew so much bigger. Perhaps it was the chicken manure under the rhubarb beside it, or just a genetic quirk. I, for example, am of modest height while my siblings are tall.
The chooks, sensibly, are huddled under the outdoor table as the wind and rain continue. Little flocks of sparrows join them from time to time.
A lot of rain has fallen, making puddles on the lawn. I hope the grass, only ever mowed by the chooks, will be encouraged to new growth, particularly where it has gone to mud and required paving stones to protect it.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of…October.
Hello again!
Each new flower is like a discovery, yet my photos of a year ago, four years ago, six years ago show that the same sudden appearances have surprised me each spring. Today, it was the first rose.
The kowhai trees are flowering enthusiastically – better than before, surely?
New flowers and seed pods from last year’s flowers
The apple tree seems to have been encouraged by pruning.
Each new blooming is superseded by another: Camellias then lilacs, magnolia stellata then forsythia, violets then forget-me-nots, aquilegias and Solomon’s seal, bluebells then hebe, lavender and bay, rosemary then banksia, and the beginnings of fox gloves, cabbage tree flowers, and karo.
Hebe 
Solomon’s seal 
Aquilegia 
Lavender and Bay 
Fox glove 
Karo 
Tulip 
Protea
The blueberry is flowering profusely and the first flowers are appearing on the strawberry plants in a hanging basket, with promise of summer fruit.
And, on the beach on Sunday, eight inflatable rescue boats on exercises meant the surf patrollers (my nephew included) are gearing up for the summer season.
At the chicken lounge and dust spa
The original chicken lounge with dust bath 
Vera spreads her wing in lockdown
A bale of straw with a tarpaulin roof gave the chooks an extra outdoor space to scratch about and sun-bathe. It became a favourite spot and for a while they laid their eggs in a nest behind the bale.
This week, an added straw bale upgraded their lounge to ‘deluxe’ and, with their dust bathing spot nearby, they have a ‘chicken lounge and dust spa’.
The deluxe chicken lounge 
Betty preens Popcorn 
Mabel preens Betty who preens Dora 
The chicken lounge and dust spa
After all the dust-bathing and preening, Dora admires herself with a selfie before showing off her fluffed tail feathers.
Vera and Betty visit the self-help health bar, with carpeted foot treadle, for a snack. Hmmm…Vera is in need of a pedicure…
Knots
The only proper knot I know how to tie is a reef knot, which I learnt at Girl Guides: left over right and right over left, it never fails. I learnt the bowline once in my yachting days, but forget exactly how it goes when I’m on the spot so I just use the loop and slip knot I “designed” myself for tying garden twine to stakes. Sometimes I just use the old granny knot and then several more to make sure it holds, so I was chuffed to hear a television DIYer say, “If you don’t know knots, tie lots of knots” (Dick Strawbridge on Escape to the Chateau).
My clothes line runs from a tree to the house and this terrible looking knot, or series of knots, has held it up for several years.
While tidying my book shelves during lockdown I rediscovered a book of knots I’d bought years ago but never used. I found some pieces of cord in my sewing stuff and had a go. I enjoyed the process and the results – although I’ll have to practise over and over to remember how to do them without looking at the instructions.
The book gives the history of each knot. It claims that in Neolithic times knots were used to tie a stone to a stick, build shelters and make bridges. Apparently gorillas use knots – both Granny and Reef knots have been identified in their nests. Birds have been observed using knots in their nest-making too.
If a knot becomes misshapen it is said to have “capsized”. This must originate from the association of knots with sailors who invented and named many of the knots we use. A marlinespike or marlingspike is a metal instrument with a pointed end used to separate rope strands. Here, I made the nautical connection with Captain Haddock’s ancestral home in the Tintin comics: Marlinspike Hall.
Following this lockdown past-time, I turned to sorting out my diaries and associated paraphernalia, and came across my 1966 diary. Perhaps the 15 February was when I learned to tie the Reef Knot for the first time.
This was a short-lived diary – it finishes on the next page, unsurprisingly. Parents of ten year olds: be reassured that even if your child is writing with random use of capital letters, no full stops, incomplete sentences and misspellings, they might grow up to tie knots – or even earn a degree or two and become an English teacher!
Grumpy
Occasionally, I have a grumpy day. It’s quite enjoyable. More than being just irritable, it’s got an energy to it which gets me moving through the day, thinking amusing grumpy thoughts and clomping about the house and garden.
A friend tells me she doesn’t think she ever gets grumpy. She suggests being grateful for things as a cure – but I don’t want a cure, I want to make the most of it. I’m grateful for being grumpy.
The word “grumpy” even suits the mood. Sure enough, when I looked it up to see where it originated, my dictionary said “imit. origin” – meaning that the word is a sort of onomatopoeia, the sound of it imitating the mood.
A quick bit of research suggests that grumpiness can be caused by a variety of things: lack of sleep, stress, hormones, underlying illness. Stereotyping makes grumpiness an affliction of older men. My dad was pretty grumpy as he got older, but I think that could be put down to most of those symptoms listed above. In my case, it’s like a wind change – awesome.*
Not long after a grumpy day a couple of weeks ago, I noticed the chooks were in a marauding mood very like grumpiness. I was dashing after them protecting plants from being scratched up. They even broke into my green house, trampling the beans and eating the miner’s lettuce. I had put a pot of parsley by the garage door as they hadn’t shown any interest in parsley before. Well, that changed. Before I could put netting around the plant it was mostly bare stalks. What could account for that mood change? Afflicting all of them at once!
I’m back to my placid self, as are the chooks – no, hold the phone, I’ve just heard cries of alarm: they’re in the planter again despite my defensive efforts with netting and bricks. Sigh.
That this doesn’t make me grumpy, just resigned to chicken nature, suggests that there’s something mysterious which causes my occasional grumpy days. I look forward to the next one.
*I’m reminded of the lightning-charged beginning chapters of Ray Bradbury’s novel Something Wicked this way Comes.
Digging Deeper
The main wastewater pipes in our street date back to the 1870s and an archaeologist is on site while they are excavated and replaced.
The lateral pipes (leading into each house) are more recent. The one into my house is dated at around 1920. The cap on it was replaced yesterday with a PVC one.
A neighbour who had problems with his pipes, was very relieved (excuse that dreadful pun) to have his 1940s pipe replaced, as it turned out to be broken – probably in the earthquakes.
The street which was repaired before ours (Ranfurly Street) yielded a stash of French champagne bottles which, the worker I spoke to believed, had been used (recycled) for home brew. They were found on the former site of a 16 hectare farm of which only the house remains.
This is fascinating stuff. It reminds me of the broken ancient (well, old) glass and crockery which has emerged from a corner of the garden near the street since new fences were built. It still comes up to the surface mysteriously from time to time. This is the most interesting of the crockery:
A recent exhibition at Tūranga, the main library, featured excavated items from the shops which used to line Gloucester Street. The post-earthquake rebuild of the central city and, lately, the construction of Te Pae, the convention centre, have kept archaeologists busy. China and glass fragments have been pieced together to give an insight into the past – what you might have seen if you had looked through the shop window.
The work on our street is only going as far as the intersection adjacent to our house. If they find original brick wastewater structures it will take longer to replace. So we may be in for more entertainment yet!
Besieged!
From my window I can see a large yellow digger, a port-a-loo, temporary fencing, and colourful bunting warning of overhead wires. There are men – and an occasional woman – in hi-vis jackets, hard hats and ear muffs. Our street is closed for wastewater drainage replacement.
Since mid-June, the work has moved up the street towards our house. My car must remain in the garage until the work moves past us and the fences are removed. There are some heart-stopping moments when the digger arm touches the bunting as the driver negotiates our narrow street.
However, the site is carefully managed, efficient and tidy. Yesterday, the power pole outside our gate was secured by a huge concrete block at the base and a hook and chain at the top.
This morning, they have dug up the footpath and part of our berm. A huge vacuum truck made a lot of noise right outside our window for a while. See how they have carefully dug under the kerb and under the lawn edging. I wonder if they’ve saved the piece of turf to put back afterwards.
I couldn’t resist taking this photo three days ago when it occurred to me that this event might be worth recording. The process is quite fascinating. From the tin lid, it looks as if a sealer is being applied. Nearby, another worker was cutting lengths of pipe.
Anne-O-tations 