From Garden to Table

 First sleep followed by first shower. It's not super hot but it's wet. I revel in the space. I've got no way to boil water so the morning ritual of a cup of tea followed by a coffee doesn't happen. I'm too excited to worry and I know I'm in for book club treats. We meet in Super Sarah's garden underneath her flowering cherry. Another single mum, she's worked hard to create a home and garden which undeniably suits the Victorian port town of Lyttleton. She lives in an old narrow, wooden house which she has renovated to suit the period. Like me, she's collected old domestic objects and created a new/old comfortable home. Her garden is flourishing and lush. I donated some plants from 22 College Ave ages ago. She's a botanist at heart, I can see why she was so enthusiastic about getting cuttings. Time for me to retrieve but I'm way behind with my garden.

We talk and eat. The food is nourishing and the women are nurturing. Girls get girls. The issues we face come and go at different times for all of us, we have the same life stages and milestones. Not all are mothers but losing someone close is something they get. My book is The Malta Convoy. I found it when I slept a few inches away from the book shelf in the study at Tui and Lionel's. I grabbed some books, scared Nic might have a clean out in the meantime. What she thinks is junk and what I would clear out are two totally different kettles of fish. So I grabbed a few books and, as my eye level, coincided with a Malta section I started one about the convoy which got through and prevented Malta from caving in when they were besieged by the Axis. It's an amazing story of courage and fortitude of men in the navy taking desparately needed supplies of food and oil to the island.

The food is vegan, imaginative, delicious and Sarah has sourced much from the garden. Fig chutney, cashew hummus, Palestinian hummus, preserved Black Doris plums, chocolate, home made seed crackers, washed down with lashings of kamboocha and Pimms. My shoulders relax. I pull out Neil's two versions of shelf brackets for advice- unanimously the finer one with the curve.

I pull up at Cashmere as the neighbours are pulling out their deck chairs and bringing out their plates. It's the annual street BBQ. I hurriedly pull my plate of brandy baskets with whipped cream and blackcurrants together and foray out. Kahu carries his plate to the table then disappears. There's no-one his age group. I stop, talk and eat. They're a pleasant bunch and they've seen me around all year. On a private lane we pass in our own rhythms but aware of each other. Like my neighbourhood, it's white middle class and homogenic. Polite, pleasant we live in boxes but allow ourselves out every now and then. We are communal animals after all.

Second night in the new house. Much the same as the first. Comfortable, airy, my space.