Tag: rain

There’s a lot of weather lately

I received a text as I walked along the flooded Avon River in the rain. It was from my brother with a photo of the place he and my sister-in-law were having lunch in Arrowtown. I sent back this photo from under my umbrella.

Often people sit on these steps and watch the eels in the river. Not today. It began raining during the night and has not stopped since.

I had been to the second session of a course on US History and it was refreshing to walk despite the weather – if only to the bus stop!

At home, Felix was keeping warm on the heat pump. I did some vacuuming, lit the fire and baked Anzac biscuits.

Post Script: Felix has just come in soaking wet and looking unimpressed.

He loves being rubbed down with a towel which I am happy to do, particularly before he dries himself all over me! Perhaps the rain has intensified. I can hear gusts of wind blowing branches against the window.

Presentable Press

Despite bans on single-use plastics in supermarkets, The Press has insisted on packaging the daily paper in plastic so that it arrives in a ‘presentable’ state. Occasionally, rain seeps through into the paper, but never more so, in my experience, than this morning. I peeled the pages apart cautiously and dried them on the clothes airer in front of the heat pump. With no butler to iron it flat, I ended up with a crisp and crinkly newspaper to read over breakfast.

Henrietta, Hester and Harriet react appropriately.

The garden, however, is appreciative of real rain – much more than of my watering.

It’s a seeping sort of rain, seeping up the base of the birdbath
Water butts and buckets are full and the stacked dry-it-yourself (!) wood is damp

The temperature is down, so we’re in our winter woollies. Inside, it’s cheering to put on the Christmas tree lights. Felix comes in to be towelled dry and to eat.

Outside under the bay tree
Today I can see this was suited to a winter Xmas
Angled photo to fit Felix’s long tail

Mum’s absorbed in the paper now (not in a damp way) – probably reading the new year honours list, or about former President Carter’s active life, or the articles about the struggles of other world leaders. Later, I will finish the code cracker.

Soggy Start

While nothing like the deluge in Auckland, the steady rain here this morning led to my guttering overflowing. This signalled a blockage, so donning an old raincoat, red band gumboots and rubber gloves, I climbed the ladder to check it out. The combination of autumn leaves and rain is not the best, but it looked as if I hadn’t cleared the gutters for a while. There was grass, moss and even a little tree growing up there. Surely it hadn’t been that long?! I filled a bucket with the sludge and tipped it on the garden.

While it was still raining and I had my wet weather gear on, I kicked leaves out of the gutters on the street to clear the drains.

It was all quite enjoyable somehow, even as the knees of my trousers became soggy and water ran up my sleeves. It doesn’t look as if Felix likes the rain much, though.

Who killed the sparrow?

Not I, said Betty, Mabel and Popcorn…Where’s Vera?

The poor little sparrows are hungry on a rainy winter’s day (or any day) and come down to the feeder to forage. ‘Automatic feeders’, which make food available when the treadle is depressed, are supposed to keep the chook food safe from marauding sparrows. But the chooks are messy eaters who throw out the pellets as they search for other treats, and the sparrows come down to eat. So the scene of the crime was set.

A less lethal proposition (Photo from January)

The second feeder is metal. (I glued carpet to the treadle so it was more comfortable for their feet on a cold, or hot, day.) Food is less likely to be scattered from this one, but I have opened it on occasion and been startled by a trapped sparrow making a rapid escape.

All four chooks can feed from this second feeder at the same time – unless Popcorn gets bossy and chases the others away. When she does, the others walk off, the lid clangs shut, and Popcorn, who hasn’t quite got the knack of the treadle, stands bemused. Karma.

Today, we are toasty by the fire while the chooks huddle on the deck. They wander into the garage between showers, or forage in the garden.

In Winter, they prefer frosty mornings which are followed by sunny days. Then they can find a dusty spot under a tree and snuggle in.

The Chicken in Winter (Photo taken in early July)

On rainy days, like today, the dust baths on the lawn have become puddles.

The path to their house is swamped, and covered in cabbage tree leaves which blew down in the southerly storm last night.

It’s a hard life for chickens – and sparrows.

Ever hopeful. Have they noticed one of their number is missing?

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.

Waiting for the storm to pass.

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.

Flooded lawn. The dome, rescued from the fallen artichoke, is back in shape.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of…October.

Bring me sunshine

It’s raining at last. It was great to hear the rain bucketing down in the night on the dry garden. This morning there’s a mix of rain and sunshine and the garden looks washed, fresh and sparkling.

The chooks are sheltering on the deck where it is both sunny and dry – but only 10 degrees centigrade. Heat pump and woolly socks are on for us indoors!

Yesterday I was in the garden all day. It was warm but overcast. Then in the evening the sun appeared below the nor’west arch lighting up the trees and make the flowers glow.

I find myself singing Bring me Sunshine today, with its cha-cha rhythm, and playing the Morecambe and Wise version which I have added to a playlist of Make me Smile songs. When I joined Singing for Pleasure at the WEA I started a playlist of the songs we sing. Now I have several more playlists including Childhood Favourites, Drive (for long journeys), Shiver up the Spine, and even Chicken-themed songs. Every day I wake up with a song or two playing in my head.

Today’s song is apt because the sunshine can be figurative: “Bring me sunshine in your smile. Bring me laughter all the while. In this world where we live there should be more happiness, so much joy you can give to each brand new bright tomorrow…”

This couldn’t be exemplified better than by this wee chap whose photos, arriving regularly from my niece, bring a day full of sunshine!