The Garden on the South Fence

                                                                Motueka sandspit

The weather is cold and grey as the southerly continues to blow. My Christmas Day recovery for 2020 is digging up concrete washed into the garden I had planted along the south side. It needed tlc anyway but after the concreters laid the path along the house, it needs rescuing. They're hard men and if I had known their modus operandi I would have tried to protect the soil. On the day, they stormed through like a tornado over Kansas, washing aggregate and toxic sealer over my plants. On top of that, scuse the pun, the level of the walkway down the side became higher so I need to add soil to level the two. Another build issue I hadn't thought about. 

But it's small change. A hail storm batters Motueka as thunderstorms descend on the Tasman at the top of the South Island. The storm causes millions of dollars damage as it destroys apple, hop and berry crops. Down south Nic is taking umbrage at snow on the hills. Meanwhile, there's Covid. The new strain, cases in North Sydney. But there's hope as vaccines are distributed. In New Zealand life carries on as nearly normal. Possibly the envy of the world as the Covid storm rages round the globe. In the words of Fred Dagg, "We don't know how lucky we are."

At the dawn of the day, in the great Southern Ocean         Where the world's greatest fish was being landed And the boat they were pulling it into was sinking         And the sea was quite lumpy, and the weather was foul And the bloke with the map was as pissed as an owl         And the boys called out "Maui, ya clown, let it go" In the noise he reached down for his grandmother's jawbone          and he winked at his mates and he said "Boys, we don't know how lucky we are"         "I have a feeling I have stumbled on something substantial." We don't know how lucky we are We don't know how lucky we are We don't know how lucky we are We don't know how lucky we are I was speaking to a mate of mine,         just the other day A bloke called Bruce Bayliss,         who lives up our way He's been round the world on an 8th army do         for a year, more or less I said "Describe the global position, Bruce"         He said "Fred, it's a mess. We don't know how lucky we are in this country.         We don't know how lucky we are         To live in this joint mate" We don't know how lucky we are,      mate We don't know how lucky we are, There's a guy I know who lives in town         I see him about once a year I suppose He's had a coronary since Easter         He's got a haemorrhage in his ear He went bankrupt a couple of weeks back         And now his wife's left him too I said "You're looking hot mate,         You're looking clear, what are ya gonna do?" He said "We don't know how lucky we are         To live in this joint mate" We don't know how lucky we are,      mate We don't know how lucky we are, So when things are looking really bad         And you're thinking of giving it a way Remember, New Zealand's a cracker         And I reckon come what may If things get appallingly bad         And we're all under constant attack Remember, we want to see good clean ball         And for god's sakes, feed your backs We don't how fortunate we are to have this place         We don't know how propitious are the circumstances. We don't know how lucky we are,      mate We don't know how lucky we are, We don't know how lucky we are, get it right         We just don't realise how fortunate we are We have no idea, the luck, we possess, collectively         We just don't know how lucky we all are. Full stop.

Source, Fred Dagg (Anthology) CD 2000

I dig up cement chips and pick out stones till I'm bored, And totally over it. Kahu's around somewhere. He's so unenthused in such mundane activities he makes himself invisible. When I can't take it anymore, I drive myself to the beach and throw my body into cold water. A southerly whistles round my ears but plunging into the waves warms me up and I emerge reset. I feel like I've achieved something, although I've barely scratched the surface. There's still a heap of outside work. In light of all that's going on around me, I count myself lucky. Landscaping may seem like a mountain, but in the big scheme of things, it's a good problem to have.

 

First Christmas in the House

I frantically tidy up before Christmas orphans arrive. Fiona is first, her mother is in hospital care, her son is unwell in bed and her dad is too tired to come. Then David, divorced, both parents deceased, but he's arrived with ham, and veges from his garden. Kritara from Germany is next. Then Judith who emigrated from England, recently separated, daughter in UK. She tells stories I've never heard in the twenty years I've known her. Suze is last. She grew up in Christchurch, now lives in Auckland, but her mum is in an old folks' home here and not well. We eat croissants, ham, cheese, tomatoes, tiramisu, and have a good chat. I start dishes and pack up to keep to my timeline. At the sink. I scrape new potatoes but I don't have time to prepare the salad I promised, and I've forgotten to cook the beef. 

When we get to Alex's everyone else is in much the same state. Organised but not ready. So we work together to get a mountain of food choices on the table. I sip bubbly, the kids are playing and we're all in relaxed, Christmas dinner is about to happen, mode. Kosta and Despina cook my beef fillet at their place, across the lane. Alex and Theo keep checking on the leg of ham that's nearly too big to fit in the oven. By the time we sit down, I'm hungry. We eat and talk, eat and talk. Family and a few add on's. Dessert is slow so I head into the southerly for a swim. The sky is grey and the wind is chilling, but the water is warmer than the beach air. Life guards are on patrol for three of us. 

I dry off and visit Armana with a present. She's got a pile of them to unwrap and it's more fun with company. I return for a big plate of dessert- I've been gone so long, the others are about to send out a search party. Christmas is different this year. Smaller, more intimate, just as fun.

Christmas Eve

The school blackcurrant patch...I've harvested fruit for the past few years. No-one else seems to and I hate to see them go to waste. And blackcurrants are one of my favourite fruits. I see Phil, the caretaker on the way in, and tell him what I'm up to. He looks bemused. I understand why when I see the netting over the bushes. I'm guessing he's keeping the birds off so he can pick. But I'm on a mission and there's enough to share. At home Kahu is still in bed. Not for much longer. I need to get the garden under control before I go south and need another pair of hands. We weed the front lawn then I direct him to the back which has some established varieties I really don't want. They're deeply rooted and I have to argue the point but we get there. When he goes inside he picks up his book again.

On the way south to Oamaru for Christmas, Arun, who is affiliated to Sunshine Solar, stops in to show me how to check electricity generation for my panels. Down to 5 minute slots which is too much detail for me but when he leaves I'm logged in so if I get bored....It's overcast and cool, we've been having rain for the past few days which is life saver for the garden and the new grass but off putting for holidays. I'm one of a tiny handful at the beach, watched over by surf life savers. The water is slightly warmer than the wind chill. The sea birds and I are quite at home. When I leave for town and Christmas carols, I'm wearing my fur coat though. My body temperature has dropped, enough to feel the gentle southerly. I take the bus, first time in an eon. Walking from the Exchange I pass homeless sharing food with seagulls, and a dancing Christmas angel ambushes me and sends me off with the wish he hopes I'll find Jesus. Not in the pub where I'm headed methinks. He takes a pic of me with one of the penguins which has arrived in town, one of 50 large ones decorated by emerging artists and create a public art trail. Another 65 are decorated by schools as part of a Pop Up Penguins learning programme. The Tui penguin is sentimental to me, makes me think of Tui my mum. It's 5 years since she died. 

As we crowd together in Victoria Park, I realise how lucky we are to be congregating in Covid times. There's a new strain which has reached UK from South Africa which is 70 times more virulent. The world has stormy times ahead and the uncertainty which fear brings. Here at the bottom of the South Pacific life goes on as normal. We sing about the birth of Jesus with gusto, hoping our good fortune is going to last and making the most of the good fortune which is allowing us to enjoy Christmas together.

Kitchen Storage

 Lynley was going to help me in the garden but when she opens kitchen cupboards to make breakfast, she changes tack. I've unpacked boxes directly into the kitchen knowing I would need to rationalise. But later when I had time. That time is now and Lynley starts by pulling out cups, plates and glasses, asking how often I will use them. We pull out half a dozen. She's just getting going. We go through the whole kitchen. The long space between the fridge and the oven is a schmozzle. Even I can't find anything. Keith joins in and the two of them move the shelves. Baking stuff goes below, like in Tui and Lionel's house. I applaud from the back row. This would have taken me another six months. We end up with a stack of crockery in the 'to go' pile on the kitchen island and neat stacks of kitchen paraphernalia throughout Nicki's carefully thought out cupboards. I feel in control.

By this time Timmy and Zak are in active waiting mode. To be fair, Zak's horizontally actively waiting  facing the front door in case anyone slips out without him. He's on a driving holiday with his family and that's that. He looks like an incarnation of Hairy Macleary from Donaldson's Dairy. When they leave Kahu looks longingly at his bed having spent an uncomfortable night on the spare room floor. But I've got gardening jobs and there's no way he's getting off. 

Before I do anything else I tick off the last item of the house build. Insurance. It's got me here- the 'As New' policy which insurance companies tried to get out of because it meant so many big pay outs was a lottery win for me. I could never have built a house on a teacher's income. I was planning to renovate my old house; probably for the same cost as the mortgage I've got now, about $125,000. So in the end, I came out on top. In the meantime, ten years of my life has flowed under the bridge. Hard to evaluate the personal cost but it's in the past so I don't. I'm here in my beautiful kitchen island with a well ordered pantry at my back. I'll keep the past behind me.