My Garden ~ putting my places on the map

Today, my map is back!!!! How did this happen? Resilience is one of my personal traits - ’I can do it!’ is my mantra (well, that’s what I’m telling you).   In a New Year post, I recounted Mike Sneddon’s blog – 7 Tips to Building Your Blog’s Readership http://www.worldwidefreelance.com/writing.htm  At the time, his words made sense, so I idly thought it a simple matter to add a Platial map to highlight my New Zealand references. Progress was slow and painful as I didn’t have a clue how to go about things.  What did I learn? Not sure. Six months later in June, and I’ve never worked out why or what I did, but my flash new Platial NZ map widget had disappeared from my blog. I lamented the joys of learning how to manage a  blog. 

Today, I went back to Platial and did some searching homework. Well, long story short, I’m setting up a new blog. I need to include a map. In 2009, Himself and I will leave NZ to work and to travel (more about that at a later time). My Garden blog will go on the back-burner for a couple of years though I probably won’t be able to resist dropping in from time to time - likely from a ‘homesickness’ for my plants and trees - and the pukeko, the cat, the animal life. Anyway, that’s in the tomorrow and tomorrow’s time.

However, first things first, my newly re-discovered world of mapping in blogland is grabbing my attention.   

My Garden ~ the bees aren’t buzzing like they did last year

The bee is more honored than other animals, not because she labors, but because she labors for others. St. John Chrysostom

Bees seem to have vanished from my garden. I’m not getting much of a buzz. My orchard is a feast for the senses. The plum, apple and quince trees are smothered with sweet nectar-filled white blossoms. The calendula, broad beans, borage and lavender and other companion plantings under my fruit trees are gaudy in their their orange, yellow, purple and blue scented array. Spring has well and truly arrived here. In my blog (September 2007), I couldn’t ignore the buzzing in my garden. But now, one year later, I see and hear only a handful of bees working among the blossoms. Where is the rest of the horde? It has been the wettest of winters. And I know the varroa mite has wreaked havoc on the nation’s hives. The silence in my garden scares me.

 

Transfixed as we are by the seriousness of  economic woes and global credit crunch fallout, there’s a serious ecological problem that has just as far-reaching and potentially devastating consequences for people everywhere. We must pay attenion to the chain of events happening in our food producing habitats. Prescient words echo down the decades in a quote (15 April 1964) from Rachel Carson’s obituary published in The New York Times.

 

“Now, I truly believe, that we in this generation, must come to terms with nature, and I think we’re challenged as mankind has never been challenged before to prove our maturity and our mastery, not of nature, but of ourselves.” 

www.rachelcarson.org/RachelCarson.ASPX

 

Earlier this year when Mum was dying of cancer, my brothers, sister and I recalled how when we were kids, DDT was mixed into the fertilizer that was spread by agricultural top-dressing trucks and planes in white billowing dust clouds over the local farms. I can still ‘smell’ the DDT as I write this. There was the economic imperative to develop farms in those days. I’m not exactly sure what made Dad change his farming practice, but he did so by the 1960s. Others in Mum’s age group in the district have succumbed to the same cancer. We haven’t been able to get conclusive answers that may link the cancer to DDT. There seems to be a wall of silence. I have digressed somewhat from the vanished bees. One consequence of the application of this insecticide is that DDT remains in the soil. It may be residual DDT is part of the explanation for the silence of the bees.

 

The health of honey bees is critical to the well-being of humans. In my blog (September 2007), I mentioned how Mum was buoyed by a book The Keeper of the Bees by Gene Stratton Porter. So I was interested during my web search to read Joe Brewer, (25 August, 2007), Rockridge Institute, Berkeley, CA. Bee Keeper’s Wisdom for Human Flourishing.  www.celsias.com/article/bee-keepers-wisdom-for-human-flourishing.

 

Back to bringing a buzz back into my garden. I’m not alone in my concerns about vanishing bees. An article (October 8, 2008) gives pointers and describes Californian farmers work in re-developing native bee habitats.

 

“With honeybee populations weakened by disease and the mysterious malady known as Colony Collapse Disorder, farmers place new focus on work to benefit native pollinators. Decisions by farmers and ranchers to replace bare ground along irrigation ditches and roadways with native plants, trees and grasses, in order to encourage beneficial insects and eliminate weeds, have evolved into a movement to bring native bees back to the farming landscape.”

www.cfbf.com/agalert/AgAlertStory.cfm?ID=1147&ck=A1D50185E7426CBB0ACAD1E6CA74B9AA

 

I trawled the net for advice and insights to the nature of my gardening problem with the thought there must be something further I can do in my backyard. There’s any number of websites and blogs about colony collapse disorder and bees.

 

NZ newspaper item (6 October 2008) Fears that bee colony disease is here.

www.times-age.co.nz/localnews/storydisplay.cfm?storyid=3786935&thesection=localnews

 

National Beekeepers’ Association of New Zealand (25 September 2008) posted a Radio NZ report on the declining bee numbers. www.nba.org.nz

 

Linda Moulton Howe (31 August 2008) wrote about the poor health of honey bees. www.earthfiles.com/news.php?ID=1466&category=Environment

 

My Garden ~ Birds’ Nests, Lazy Cats and Granddaughter’s First Post

When she was a toddler, Granddaughter and I made up scrapbooks about anything and everything when she and her twin brother stayed with us. We’d do drawings, paste in leaves and flowers, and pictures and the like. I’d scribe the dictated little stories about what we’d been doing that day. These battered books are now tomorrow’s treasures. It’s the school holidays and today, blogging is the new scrapbook.  We had fun choosing a new photo of our countryside for the header. This is her first post. 

Nana and I thought how clever birds are when they make their nests. The thrush used the grasses to make a warm nest. Her nest looked like part of the clump of the same grass on the driveway bank. Pukeko is nesting in the long grass near the electric fence in front of the house. We took some photos and I wrote about them.

I am walking past the thrush’s nest while going to get the mail with Poppa.

Mother thrush chose a warm, sunny and dry place to build her nest.

She’s sitting very still and watching us. Her eye didn’t blink.

Thrush built a well-hidden nest in the ornamental tussock grass plantedon the bank beside the driveway.

Thrush laid three speckled sky blue eggs.

Six speckled dull olive-coloured Pukeko eggs. Pukeko’s nest is hidden in the very long grass.

Mischief would like to eat birds if he wasn’t so lazy.

In his dreams he’s a tiger. His name Pushy stuck when Grandson was beginning to talk and this was his word for ‘cat’.

 

Sometimes the cats come for a walk with us. We didn’t want to stay near the birds’ nests for too long, otherwise the cats might sniff out an easy meal.

My Garden ~ Talofa! We were captivated by fa’a Samoa

Last week was our special time together. We chose to quietly celebrate 40 years of married life in the islands of Samoa. Last week we found Paradise.  No cellphone, no book, no television or radio. No grandkids. Just us. Island time. Siesta time. Conversations as the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. Himself and I became willing captives in this beyond-our-Kiwi-lifestyle, traditional way of life of the friendly Samoan people.

Like Rupert Brooke the poet who visited Samoa, we were enchanted as we lay “on a mat” and looked “out on the white sand under the high palms and gentle sea, and the black line of a reef a mile out…”. We too met “the loveliest people in the world, moving and dancing like Gods and godesses. It is sheer beauty, so pure it is difficult to breathe in it.” Of course we took in the sights and familiarised ourselves with Samoan culture and history. We listened to the stories about legendary hotelier Aggie Grey and Robert Louis Stevenson who was known as Tusitala the soryteller.  Film-makers have been inspired by the spectacular lagoons with their palm-fringed beaches. I must read James Michener again and see the movie Return to Paradise filmed at Matatau on Upolu Island. I didn’t need a book.The stories were there before me.

We trawled the local food and craft markets. Naturally, I was interested in what village people grew in their gardens and plantations. In our travels, I marvelled at how hard people in the villages work to live on meagre means. They fish in the lagoons and beyond the reef. They cultivate taro, breadfruit, papaya, plantains and other vegetables and fruits as food staples year-round for their large aiga (families). Their pride is reflected in their immaculately kept villages. There’s more in these islands: volcanic lava fields; the rainforests; fresh water streams and waterfalls; nature’s riot of colour repeated on the houses, churches and fale. A pod of whales cavorted on cue in the sea during one ferry trip. The turtles in Savaii were captivating.

Back at the resort into the night, there was Samoan dancing and singing and fresh game fish on the menu. It was all so leisurely. After a day in the tropical heat, a tall glass of gin, tonic and fresh lime poured over ice seemed just right.  I wondered vaguely (ever so momentarily)  how I would ever manage to go back to work and do all the physical gardening activities at home. Getting to know another country is exciting. Our time in Samoa was too short. We didn’t see it all but we will go back. This was our special time.

I even had to remind myself to take any photos at all such was the entranced state we found ourselves in.  

 

Poolside looking towards our room and balcony on the second floor.

Setting sun shadows across the pool as viewed from our room.

Looking eastward from our room.

Lazing on the white sand under palms.

Surviving the midday in the heat having visited the markets downtown.

We joined Apia office workers in the shade during their lunch-break.

Lunch. Tasty locally grown tomatoes and crackers. The purple fruit was reminiscent of a passionfruit.

Driving through one of the many villages along the SW coast.

The gardens are full of brightly coloured foliage, papaya and breadfruit trees and vegetables such as taro.

Picture postcard palm-fringed beaches are throughout Samoa.

Driving a left-hand drive car on the ‘other’ side of the road was an interesting experience for us.

Looking down towards Apia on our way to the Robert Louis Stevenson museum at Vailima.

The historic home of RSL affectionately called Tusitala, the teller of stories.

Bromeliads growing in coconut fibre.

Tropical garden plantings

Mulifanua wharf was about 10 minutes from the Aggie Grey Lagoon Resort.

Looking-back to Upolu Island. Aggie Grey Lagoon Resort is just visible beyond the reef.

Passengers and trucks.

Passing the other inter-island ferry.

Berthing at the Salelologa Wharf.

Historic site on Savaii Island

Plant life is regenerating on the lava fields.

A moonscape is all that’s left after villages were destroyed by lava flows.

Concrete walls are all that remain of one of the ruined churches.

The corrugated roofing iron of one of the ruined churches is embedded in the lava.

The plant life adorns the Virgins Grave buried by the lava flow.

A moving and memorable experience to be able to ‘swim’ with the turtles. This gentle creature almost “purred” when stroked under his neck.

My Garden ~ a special day

As I was gardening this morning, I was thinking about another garden. My parents’ garden. Forty years ago today, the spring day was much like it is now with patches of blue sky, warming day temperatures urging signs of renewed life and colour burst in the garden. I wasn’t a gardener then but I had a sense of gardens given that everyone had a garden in the farming area I grew up in. This morning, I had a particular sense of deja vu. 

Many of my plants or plantings in my present garden echo what was in my parents’ garden. I can hear Mum’s voice as she lamented all those years ago that another month and the roses would be in full bloom and people could enjoy them. Why, was that so important to her?  Well, Himself and I were getting married. As was the way of things then, it was a country district do and after the formal church service and reception, the guests all went back to the bride’s parents’ home and garden. It happened to be a special day for Mum and Dad as well because it was also their wedding anniversary. Dad wanted us to be married on the same day – so I guess Himself and I went along with things.

I remember the day well. Just happy. Himself’s sister sewed my gupuire lace wedding gown. Mum baked three traditional rich fruit cakes – large, medium and small. My Aunty iced, decorated and assembled the 3-tier wedding cake. Another Aunty baked and decorated all the pavlovas. My friend’s mother sewed the three bridesmaids’ gowns. Dad killed a steer to provide the beef for the reception dinner. Neighbours did the floral decorations and helped set up the local district hall for the reception. Cars (Chrysler Valiants) for the bridal entourage were borrowed from my Uncle and a neighbour and were driven by my cousins. A local farmer whose hobby was photography, did the photos. That’s the way it was. A similiar story for my cousins, my sister and others in the district. It was an era when people’s milestones were transformed into local social occasions. 

I guess the colours and scents in my garden in some way evoked this trip down memory lane. I have a visual memory of similar plants on display on my wedding day. So, the floral whites and ruby hues are my special colours for today.

The dark green foliage is a contrast for the white camelia blooms. It’s a pity the white petals ‘bruise’ quite so easily.

Another late-winter-early spring cheerleader.

Sun-seekers. I love the way the silver foliage sets off the ruby flowers.

Heavenly scent pervades the garden. These white flowers are part of a mass of white, blue and yellow freesias that scramble among other plants.

The ruby hues make this a show-off tree aganst the skeletons of bare branches when all else in the garden is dormant.

My hope is there will be luscious red strawberries to pick before Christmas.

Cheery and bright.

There’s something magical about a mass of white blossom in the garden. The fragrance suggest the promise of the fruits to come. Where are the bees?

Red Haven my early fruiting peach variety is awakening from its dormancy.

Delicate pastel pink flowering peach petals are the beginnings of a mass display.

This iris is from my late mother’s garden. It is now well-established as a mass planting. This is the first of the blooms.

Forty years later, the spirit of love is strong. Flowers say it all and their power eternally excites our senses.

My Garden ~ it must be spring

Things are looking up. The daylight hours are longer, the sun has been seen to shine, and wonders of wonders, the slush and the mud is drying out. I actually got into the garden and sowed evergreen Broad Beans directly into the soil. The soil felt warm on my hand. So that’s a good sign. This season, I’m trying out a Dwarf Broad Bean variety. Back indoors, I sowed cherry tomato seeds into a seed raising mix: Baxters Early Bush Cherry Tomato and Black Cherry Tomato. My plan is to pot up and grow these tomato plants in the warmth of the polyhouse. I also sowed cauliflower seeds. I chose a mini variety because it will take less space in the garden and will mature in about 80 days from sowing before the hotter months happen in our part of the world at the end of the year. Pumpkin ‘Triamble’ is my favourite and seeds are being started in the warmth of the polyhouse. Still lots more to do – but it’s a start. 

Even better, I was able to weed the raised strawberry beds. Their dormancy is definitely over. Fresh green leaves and a few white blossoms are happy signs. I gave the plants a good feed of organic sheep pellet fertiliser and a layer of mulch. A great few hours in the garden is an antidote to soggy seasonal affective disorder.        

After work, it’s good to pull the gumboots on and get out in the fresh air. The bird song is uplifting at this time of the day. Three-year old and his little toddler brother love visiting our neighbour and feeding food scraps to the farmyard menagerie. It’s a good opportunity to tire out little legs before the dinner, bath and bed routine. The walk was not without its heart-stopping moments particularly when Turbo-toddler tore towards the stream-bank to throw a stick or stone into the water. Older brother inspected every stick for its potential to be wielded as a light sabre sword. But we did get to our destination as the photos show.         

Piglets are growing fast and gobble all the food scraps that come their way.

Big brother gets to know the hens.

Big bro shows little bro how it’s done.

Turbo toddler doesn’t know which way to look. So many mouths to feed.

What’s the pecking order here?

Ducks waddle off to a safer distance.

Headed for the lake.

We’re new best friends.

Turbo-toddler eyeballs big red cattle through the fence.

My Garden ~ it’s a boy

Number 8 grandchild, born in the eighth month of 2008, weighed in at 7lb 11oz. He arrived into our world at 7.12 this morning. There’s some lucky association with the number 8  linked to this birthday - I haven’t made sense of it yet. It’s very special to have been invited by son and D-in-Law to be present at the birth as well as the other grandmother. At present, Himself and I are babysitting the older two boys - twenty-one month old Turbo-toddler and Three-year old. Three-year old, when told that Mummy and Daddy had a nice surprise for him, thought it’d be a Benten or at least a new Spiderman toy.      

At least the weather cooperated  as we drove into town early this morning. It is pleasantly cool and conditions are drying out. I was able to get into the garden to pick a few flowers (freesias, daffodils, calendula, borage) to make a litte posy for each boy to give to their Mummy. Before we entered the maternity annexe, we had a ‘serious’ discussion about using quiet voices, walk only, how to hold a bunch of flowers and hold onto Nana and Poppas’ hands. The cute factor lasted about five pre-schooler nano-seconds after we entered Mummy’s room. Turbo-toddler patted new-born brother on the head and was then ready to be off to ’explore’ the interesting new surroundings. Needless to say, it was a relatively short first visit.

Given that the magnolias are making a great show and that the Kowhai have started to bloom, I think I’ll probably choose one of these as the baby’s special tree. Last year, I wrote about tree-planting as a living remembrance or celebration of life.  The sound of Tui has been heard recently – a harbinger of spring. Tui love the Kowhai nectar and it enjoys a special bird status in the hearts of New Zealanders.

My Garden ~ it’s been the wettest winter and a birth is imminent

Mud. Lots of it. Squelchy and squishy.  Officially, we’re told it’s been the wettest winter. The grey rain clouds can go away now. We are no longer lulled by the nightly patter of rain on the roof. In our area, the soil ‘floats’ atop the hardpan pipe-clay. Unsealed local roads and private driveways currently make driving interesting as we dodge the potholes. Once things dry out in the warmer months, we’ll need to re-metal our driveway.

I can only stand and admire nature’s cheerful face of drifts of daffodils. No outdoor gardening is happening at present. This weekend, I want to get some time to sow some seeds to germinate them under cover. And yes, the early potatoes seem to still be growing. Anyway, there’s another reason for no gardening and no blogging. For the last few weeks, I’ve been busy cleaning spare bedrooms, laundering baby clothes, fetching grandkids from daycare and preparing meals. I feel stuffed just looking at this list and I go out to work during the week. The efforts we make to support our families.     

Tomorrow is the due date for a very important little person. Grandchild Number 8. The lucky number and it’s the 8th month of 2008. We’ve got a full house. Son and D-in-law and their two sons are staying with us before they shift into their next house. D-in-law’s Mum flew in from Australia and is also staying with us. Tonight, the newborn baby clothes are sorted and the basinet is made up and aired. Mummy’s finally stopped working and is now on maternity leave. She’s packed her bag at last. Daddy’s reading a story to three-year old son. Three grandparents are under the same roof and on hand to baby-sit the older boys. Wow! Each time, the imminent birth of a grandchild is such a special time. The event draws people together. A little of each of us is embodied in the promise of this precious new life bringing cheer like the daffodils. Now, we wait for nature to take its course.

My Garden ~ baking with toddler grandson

Another wet weather forecast for yesterday meant another Sunday indoors. Time to cook some comfort food. Toddler grandson bustled about and pushed the step-stool against the bench and climbed up just like he’s seen older brother do. ‘Me’ in toddler-speak translated means it’s my turn to have fun at the kitchen sink. Older brother, now three, was happily ensconced in front of the computer (I’m amazed how easily he uses the mouse and function keys). So, it was Toddler’s time to have the kitchen bench to himself and learn some kitchen skills.

Measuring a cup of flour is … well, a floury business

Id better have a little taste of that coconut

Mmm … is there enough?

One for the measuring cup, one for me …

One … lots of raisins

Hot! Look! Don’t touch!

Hot biscuits in time for morning tea

Nana said I have to wash the dishes

That should make Nana happy

ANZAC Biscuits

A Kiwi icon biscuit recipe that is easy to make. Kids like to add dried fruit – whatever’s to hand, usually raisins.  The basic recipe is found in another Kiwi icon, the Edmonds Recipe Book.  

Mix 1 cup flour, 1/2 cup sugar, 1 cup coconut, 1 cup rolled oats,  1/2 cup raisins into a mixing bowl. Dissolve 1/2 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda in 2 tablespoons of boiling water and add  to 125 grams butter that has been melted with 1 tablespoon Golden Syrup. Pour liquid into dry ingredients and stir in. Place spoonfuls onto a greased or lined baking tray. Flatten slightly with a fork. Bake about 12 minutes at 180 C.

Tonight, while half asleep in front of the fire, Himself mentioned the ‘frost’ word. Oh! Early potatoes - should I risk it? Should I stir myself from my comfort zone? It’s dark, cold and soggy outside. Should I trust the forecasted 5C overnight temperature not to fall any further? Cat was snuggled on Himself’s lap and is a mean critter when disturbed. Himself wasn’t moving. So it was pull on the dampish socks and gumboots and don a jacket. Grab a torch and then slosh down to the shed to grab the frost covering. Clear sky tonight – lots of stars and a new moon – could get frosty. Who knows? Since the first frosty encounter, the early potato plants seem to have recovered and have grown to about 12cm high. They are now snuggly wrapped for the night. A dark shadow darted towards me as I shone the torch-light over the garden. It was the cat. Chasing shadows like a kitten he’s not. Remind me – why do I garden?

My Garden ~ seeds of spring sowings

Eldest son and I phone-tagged tonight as we pored through an online seed catalogue. We decided to order online. This season, we’re sharing packets of seeds and adopting a more economical approach to growing more of our food. He has five kids and had just returned from the supermarket. The price of fresh produce there has really spurred him to get a vegie garden going – now! Yesterday! He’s got fruit trees planted on his new place. He and his wife had a salad picking garden at their previous home. Now, the inflation of their growing family’s appetites is matching economic inflation.

We settled for a seasonal selection for early spring plantings September-October. Our climate is warm enough – but then I said that once before about early potatoes and then there was a light frost.  We’ll use the polyhouse to get seedlings started and potted up later on before transplanting later into our gardens. No 2 son will get involved later on but at present, he’s absorbed with the prospect of becoming a Daddy for the third time.

So what did we order? Eldest son chose Watermelon Moon and Stars and Sweet Corn Honey and Pearl for his kids. I like his thinking about scatter sowing field poppies and a beneficial insect seed blend  in his new orchard. I’d have the lot but reason has to prevail. Such wonderful stories about heritage seeds. I’m inspired by names given to some of the seeds we ordered, like:  Baxters Early Bush Cherry Tomato; Pea Wando Select; Zucchini Costasta Romanesco; Bean Borlotto Fire Tongue;  Beetroot Crosbys Egyptian Flat; Black Cherry Tomato; Squash Orange Dawn. I’m intrigued by Chilli Pasilla Bajio as described in the catalogue, quote:

In Spanish, Pasilla means “little raisin”, an allusion to the deep brown dried pods and raisin like aroma of this flavourful Chilli. The long thin walled glossy dark green fruit at the immature stage ripen to dark chocolate brown with high yields and uniform high quality. When used fresh Pasilla are called chilaca and add a rich flavour to enchilada and chilli sauces.

I’m already thinking what recipes I might use to enjoy the ‘raisin like aroma”. And I was delighted to get hold of heirloom pumpkin seeds. My father used to grow Triamble pumpkin and it’s a good keeper and has a great taste. I can see him now using a small axe to chop through the hard skin.

We’ve battened down for the second major wintery storm of the week and I’ve been curled up in front of the wood-fire reading the jobs to do in August in my latest gardening magazine. I’ve learned that wood ash is beneficial for rhubarb in that it acts somewhat like lime. May be this is why winter happens – so we must wait, rest, reflect on our gardening adventures, and dare to dream how the next growing season might be.