Demelza At War

Poor Demelza's tail attacked her again last night. As per usual she was sitting minding her own business when the tip flicked and before she could yowl "catnip mouse" she was at war. She cornered her tail sitting on the edge of the bath but after nearly falling in she ran behind the bathroom door to try and beat it into submission. However the rival attraction of a dry piece of kitty litter got the better of her and she ended up batting this madly across the lino. When the kitty litter finally surrendered she did one half hearted circle just to show her tail who was boss and calmly walked away to torture the dog. It's so amazing what you get to see while you're just sitting on the loo...

Messy Animals

The cats are currently having a competition to see who can get the most cleavers (sticky weed) seeds stuck in their fur. So far Kit has been winning as she has managed to get into such a mess that I've had to cut chunks of her fur leaving her looking like an overweight moth eaten cuddly toy. Today however Demelza arrived inside with small green sticky round balls hanging off the backs of her legs. When I tried to prise them off I was only rewarded by her usual expression of shocked disapproval so I left her to pull them off by herself before she fell asleep exhausted on the armchair. However I have to announce that the competition was won by Mishka the dog who, in the process of sneaking into a shelter belt in search of bantam nests, managed to decorate himself with seed heads, grass and a few dead leaves for good measure so that he resembled a hairy walking Christmas tree. Didn't have the heart to tell him that he's over 300 days too early.

Wet Dogs and Exploding Bantams

I'm currently experiencing an explosion of broody bantams. Frightened the hell out of myself the other day while gardening when an unearthly screech emanated from the middle of some day lilies where an irate hen had ensconced herself. A fluffy white hen went missing just before Christmas and I was certain she was sitting as she hadn't been sick but Wednesday afternoon I found her mummified corpse underneath a hedge. I planted her near the day lily patch so she can keep the other hen company.

I am a person who has to set deadlines so I get things done and New Year's Eve was "Wash The Dog Day". I spent a good half hour brushing all the under hair out from Mish's coat but before I had time to wash him the lawn mower man and his offsider arrived. Needless to say I was relieved I'd discovered the dead hen the day before otherwise we'd have had chicken chop suey everywhere. The men spent an hour waging war on the grass, one on a mower and the other on a weed eater and knocked the place into some sort of shape although it does resemble a hay field now. After lunch I took Mish outside and gave him a good wash with flea shampoo before he shook most of the water over me. He loves water despite the expression on his face post bath. Since then I have had to keep him nearby so he doesn't roly poly in the grassy arssy.

Crazy Cocksfoot and Confused Cats

The lawn mowing man called in again late this afternoon but fortunately this time I had my clothes on. He is coming to knock back the half of the lawn we couldn't complete either this week or next with promises of weed eating the edges as well. Ever the country girl I just think it's a terrible waste of good grazing.


The garden is morphing from late Spring into early Summer which means most areas are looking a bit tatty/weedy. However there are still quite a few poppies blooming and the hollyhocks are beginning to show. The slight rain we've had over the past couple of days has made for wonderfully easy weeding which makes for easily overdoing it. I have been hauling out cocks foot from the corner garden and throwing it out into the paddock for the sheep before replacing them with a few wilted cosmos seedlings and delphiniums.

My furry helpers keep watchful eyes on me from the overgrowth with the occasional helping paw. They've been excited by some unexpected visitors to the garden. A female pheasant has been sending the blood pressure of the roosters sky high while two magpies have been taking their morning perambulations about the front lawn. Demelza and Kit sit in rapt admiration, especially when they up and fly away. I was a bit confused as to why until this morning when I realised that these two black and white cats think the magpies are kindred spirits who are in fact flying cats.

And the poppies and orbs go on

One day we broil, the next morning there is a frost. Such is December in Central Hawkes Bay. But the poppies continue to amaze including a wonderful fluffy pink individual behind the hen house. I have taken so many shots of this I can see a series of very cliche paintings. Meanwhile the lawn had grown and grown as I waited to see if I can get extra money to get it knocked back. The quote I was given was $100 which at Christmas was too much to cobble together but I was lucky that Glenys and her husband came down a week ago and mowed half, the part you can see from the road thankfully. Arthur took half an hour to ride the mower down the road from their house while Glenys looking pretty snappy in t-shirt and shorts pulled up in a quad bike pulling a trailer containing rakes and wheelbarrow. While Arthur spent two hours trying to tame the grass Glenys and I raked before she threw it over the fence. By the time lunchtime had arrived we had turned into three grease spots. Poor Arthur was then faced with a weary and extremely slow trip back home.


I continue to go outside some nights orb hunting. One evening I followed Mishka up the drive photographing all the way and in each shot there was a white orb floating in the air just above the fence before settling beside Mish. I wonder if it's a dog lover? My paranormal photography adventures inspired my brother to try taking photos at the end of his garden. After a particularly spectacular shot of a white orb which turned out to be some one's soccer ball he managed to capture a couple of large ones in a photo. My friend John however had no luck whatsoever until his wife photographed him with his two grandchildren outside during the day and the resulting photo showed a large grey cloud coming out of his head. Unfortunately he's now convinced himself that this means he's going to die. So if you're wandering around Napier at night and see bright flashes coming from various gardens you'll know what's happening. There is a whole lot of orbing going on.

Paranormal Photography

Being brought up in a family of mixed Anglican/Spiritualists there has always been some interesting conversations regarding the afterlife, ghosts, spirits, and all the other ephemera of New Age philosophies. However having a brother and friends who are Atheists I always try to have a slightly sceptical attitude to some areas of spirituality. I want to be open minded but not the extent that my mind is downright draughty. Trips to the library always begin at the "Spirituality/Metaphysical" section where I usually find a couple of books to keep me going. Last month I discovered "How To Photograph the Paranormal" by Leonore Sweet PhD which contained some pretty startling photos of orbs that she had taken. I decided to have a go myself since I now have a digital camera and am not wasting valuable (and expensive) film.

First night I turned off my bedside lamp and shot blindly around the room. At first there were just some photos of startled cats but out of ten pictures there were three showing unexplained round "things". I could see where the flash was reflecting and this was nowhere near the round orbs. Second night Mishka and I went outside and I blindly shot around the garden before my camera batteries went flat after just a few photos. This picture shows a large gold orb hovering just over the fence and following Mishka. There was also another later on of an orb following him back up the driveway.

One evening I turned off the lights inside and then hung my arm way out of the window facing away from the house shooting into the darkness. There was no moonlight that night and I wasn't near any reflective surfaces so this picture came as quite a surprise.

I have spoken of what I have been doing the last few nights with several friends. One, an Atheist, does not believe "in that sort of thing", one was bemused and one tried to work out what these objects are, whether they're energy forms or spirits. As for myself I have ruled out bugs as they show up as white flecks, I don't photograph in the rain and the atmosphere is calm so there wasn't any dust. I am now encouraging everyone I know with digital cameras to try photograph around their own homes to see what shows up.

Poppies

There are triffids growing in the garden. Well humongous sized weeds and I have the allergic welts to prove it. With all the rain we've had recently everything has sprung away and as soon as I finish one patch of garden I turn round to see a jungle behind. It would be quite depressing if it weren't for all the beauty about me. A friend told me today that it must be the year for poppies. Certainly I have a surfeit of rumpled gorgeousness from the common old red Soldiers' poppy to ruffled pink jobbies to PINK and purple artists' dreams that I have photographed to distraction. Now I just have to get the lawn mowed before there is a fire and I will be halfway towards a sort of paradise.

Cat Training aka How To Train A Human

The recession has finally hit the cats. When I went grocery shopping with Rose this week I noticed their usual cat food "Gourmet" had gone up by 30c a tin which makes a price rise of 50c over the past year making it much too expensive. But I am pretty fussy what I feed my animals so spent some time with a can of Gourmet, comparing ingredients with other brands. Some had too much fat, not enough protein, others I am sure were composed of pure horse. Rose stood by patiently while I did this until in exasperation she said "You spend more time looking at what's in your cats' food rather than in your own. It's disgusting!"

I have to explain that Rose doesn't "get" the whole owning cats thing as she has a dog. However she is about to take ownership of a SPCA kitten within the next two weeks so a whole new world is about to open up to her. But she's certain that there are going to be rules with her new pet, it'll eat what it's given, no special brands, it won't sleep on the bed, it'll have to fit in with her life rather than the other way around. I have tried to explain that within a week of arriving her kitten will have her fully trained, seeing to its every whim and fitting her life around its existence. She just looked at me as if I was really just an eccentric cat lady.

So after five minutes of intense scrutiny I settled on good old Chef cat food but then had to choose what flavours to buy. I know my cats aren't too fond of fish so settled on chicken, lamb as well as a couple of cans of Chef classic. Rose shook her head in disbelief but never said a word. When we arrived home I began unpacking the groceries while we did some last minute chatting. Just as she was walking out the door Rose turned to me and said "I'm going to town again on Friday so if the cats don't like their new food give me a ring and I'll buy them something else".

I just hope her new kitten appreciates the training I have put into it's new pet when it finally arrives at its new home.

Roses All The Way

Suddenly there are roses everywhere including a beautiful pink climber that is clambering up the northern wall of my bedroom. This was the only one I couldn't reach to prune so not surprisingly it's the most rampant. The rose is truly the Queen of Flowers in all its variations. I just wish I knew the names of all of the ones in the garden here but perhaps it is more fun to name them myself in which case I'll call this one "Fred".

The Big Flight

The cats are still pretty jumpy from weeks of being dive bombed by irate swallow parents. I managed to get a great shot of the babies a week ago by holding the camera over my head and snapping in their general direction. When a friend offered to get even closer we were startled by the four babies taking wing and flying out across the paddock. They each sat on a fence post while the parents flew from one to another before they all took to the sky again wheeling about in ever increasing circles. We were so worried that we'd frightened them away permanently but at 7.30pm that night and every night since the family arrive in a blast of excited chattering, the babies settling in the nest and the parents perching on the coat hooks on the opposite side of the back door. By morning they've all left for the day, only flying in under the carport every few hours or so.

From what I have been told swallows hatch two or three clutches per season and already Mr and Mrs have begun reinforcing the mud nest with dried grass, most of which is dropped around the door in amongst the piles of bird do do like some natural abstract sculpture. Perhaps I can enter it for some prestigious art award next year.

Briar's Pedicure

Briar had a pedicure this morning. Her beautician is called Mike. Soon as I put the halter on Briar went into Eyeore mode- her head drooped, her ears flipped back and her eyes filled with tears (well not quite but she looked pretty pissed off). She made a few desultory attempts to kick Mike's hand away before giving into the inevitable. Mishka loved Briar being tied up (not for any kinky reasons) and spent time darting between her legs in order to snatch little hoof shavings. Mike threw him a few larger hoof curls but Mish believes in take away (or steal away in his case) so only ate what he could snatch for himself. Of course we're all suffering the after effects of this feast tonight.

Meanwhile in cat world the cottage felines are under attack by the swallow parents whose offspring hatched over the weekend. I hear lots of bird swearing and open the back door to find Gypsy or Kit cowering near the house while swallows dive bomb them. Even this evening while Peaches crouched on the kitchen window sill an extremely irate bird kept swooping by the glass clacking some extreme obscenities. However Peachy Bum and I were both rewarded by the sight of two tiny beaks reaching up over the edge of the mud nest while the parents vomited up some goodies. Made Stargate Atlantis seem quite tame by comparison. I need to get a life...

Balls

Everything is springing away including the weeds. I have been trying to keep up with the garden but unless I spend at least an hour a day out there the weeds begin to win. This is the view in the evening from the sitting room window looking towards the Ruahine Ranges. The tidy bit of the garden...

So far I have unearthed 13 balls left by previous tenants including several sad deflated tennis balls and a rugby ball that looks as if Jonah Lomu sat on it. Mishka is terribly excited with each new discovery- probably because he was castrated as a pup.

Gathering Lilacs In The Spring

I have been enjoying lilacs for weeks now; photographing the flowers, picking bunches and bringing them inside, and gazing at them from my bedroom window.Obviously I've led a deprived life as I've never had a lilac bush in the garden before although when I lived at home my mother planted one which never flowered. She read in a magazine that if you hit the trunk with a hammer and then swore at it there would be a plethora of flowers the next season. Obviously someone was having a case of the funnies as the tree sulked even more after being beaten up by a seriously deranged senior citizen.

The garden here is bursting into life which means bursting into weeds. I am trying to do at least an hour's work each day but this isn't making much headway. Today I spent two hours weeding before planting a cutting on the burgundy Iceberg rose amongst the lavender. I also planted eight different coloured alyssum plants so I can begin making pressed flower cards again.

Gardening is as mystic as I get and whenever I see a new flower a verse from Dorothy Frances Blomfield Gurney's poem comes to mind:

The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,--
One is nearer God's heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on earth.

Two Swallows Don't Make The Spring

When I first moved in here last March there was a disused swallows nest situated above the back door. The day after moving "someone" removed it (not me) but for the past couple of weeks Mr and Mrs Swallow have been busy rebuilding it. It is an amazing edifice constructed of straw, dirt and bird spit. Now it has been lined with feathers and the female is sitting on some eggs while the husband keeps watch sitting on a coat hook on the other side of the door, carefully building up a pile of guano on the ground underneath.

The cats spend hours perched on the window sill above the kitchen sink watching all the goings on. Safer there than outside where they're dive bombed by the irate parents to be. Warmer too since we are having yet another cold snap with snow falling down on the foothills.

I have had several visitors this week. Rose helped out Monday, Tuesday we went down to Waipukurau and in the afternoon friends brought me out some much needed firewood. After art at Otane on Wednesday Gine visited for a couple of hours with little Moses. We sat chatting in front of the fire, trying to control Mishka who was certain he'd be very helpful cleaning Moses, especially while he had his nappy changed. Mish is a dog on a mission where pooh is concerned.

Peanut

There are some chooks that stick in your mind like- well like chicken poo. Peanut hatched on 2nd November 1994. Her mother "Squidgey" was an Old English Game Fowl, a tiny but feisty hen who was addicted to walnuts. One day she went missing and a few weeks later arrived outside the hen house with three tiny bumblebee chicks. Peanut took on her mother's colouring but was twice her size plus she inherited her grandmother Becky's tufted feather head dress. Over time Peanut has had a couple of clutches and lived to see her grand, great grand and even great great grand chicks. Not only that but she has moved six times as I had to move home.

Lately Peanut has begun to look a bit shabby but still was bolshie enough to beat up a young rooster who got a bit amorous a couple of weeks ago. A few days ago when a cold snap swept in her wings began to look a bit droopy and yesterday morning she died only one month out from her 15th birthday. I buried her in the flower garden and planted a lavender dentata cutting on her grave. Another superannuitant chicken has gone to the big chook house in the sky.

A Woman Who Stares At Goats

Friday was a beautiful yellow day. After going to portraiture class in Otane in the morning I came home to lunch and discovered that Tikokino School had rerun two of my advertisements I'd placed the previous week in their newsletter. I had vowed that this would be my last attempt to advertise for my missing goats as I had exhausted every avenue I could think of.

In the middle of the afternoon I found a phone message from someone at Gwavas Station saying that four goats were living on a cliff. I spoke to a manager who said that there were two white and two fawn goats and they'd been living there for two to three months. He had been going to shoot them but one of his friends said he'd read somewhere that someone was looking for their pets but couldn't remember where he'd seen it. Of course then my ad was rerun in the newsletter and the rest is history.

Saturday morning it was pouring with rain. Rose and her husband Matthew arrived in their four wheel drive and we made our way down State Highway 50 to Gwavas Station. We were met by a very nice guy on a motorbike with a fox terrier riding pillion. We followed him across the road and into a bumpy paddock then through a gate into another bumpy paddock. By this stage we were overlooking a steep gorse covered cliff to the east. We waited while Casey drove his motorbike down a hill in order to scare the goats out of cover and up into view.

I saw four fat hairy goats break out from the trees and start to run vertically up the cliff face. I tried to look at them through some small binoculars but couldn't make out any collars although one of the fawn goats seemed to resemble Xena. Rose and I were sure it was too much of a coincidence that four long haired goats should be there a few months after mine went missing but I was at a loss as to why two had changed colour.

Casey came back and asked where I used to live. I told him and we worked out that Xena must have gradually brought the herd along the river, under the bridge (or even across the highway) before finding shelter on the cliff. She was probably only 10 kms from where I now live so I try to fool myself she was trying to find me. He said he would ring the neighbour whose farm abutted Gwavas and ask him to help muster them down and into the sheep yards so I could collect them. I thanked him and thanked him again, unable to believe that after nine months I'd finally found them again. Note to self: make offering to the guardian angel of goats who looked after them all these months.

Furry Washing

I don't know what it is about clean washing that attracts cats. If I leave clothes on the bed I will come back to find Kit sprawled on top, happily moulting black hair everywhere. Peaches has a particular liking for linen and towels and on occasion decides to use the clothes airer as a hammock...

Hellebores and Lavender

I dreamed about my goats again last night. I have this recurring dream that someone actually returns them to me. It is now eight months since they disappeared and despite adverts in the local newspaper, school newsletter and a flier delivered by the mailman I have had no response as to what has happened to them since they disappeared from the last place I lived in late December. For a while they were seen wandering on a neighbouring farm and I kept asking the farm manager if he would help round them up. However by the time I moved here they had completely disappeared. My cousin has even suggested that my previous landlord may have had them shot. All I know is that I really miss them and can hardly bear to talk about them.

Today it is warm and the garden is slowly springing to life. We seem to be later than most places- my daffodils are only just beginning to flower and the tulip leaves are just poking out of the soil whereas they're flowering further down the road. However the winter hellebores have been blooming for weeks and are just lovely.

Rose and I went to Mitre 10 and were drawn towards the specials table like rats towards walnuts. Everything was a bit worse for wear but marked down by 50%. I got a Pukehou lavender for just $7 and six Lady Lavender plants for only $5. I have planted these by the brick path at the front of the cottage so I will eventually have a fragrant hedge growing under my bedroom window. Going shopping with Rose is always dangerous but as she says we're doing a good thing by supporting the local economy...

In the Dumps

Rose and I went to the dump (sorry "transfer station") this morning. I had been putting it off for a while but two months worth of rubbish and an old plastic dog bed I have been trying to ditch for the past three years finally got to me.

I've never been to the Waipukurau dump (Transfer Station) before but we paid the $9 fee for a carload of stuff and made our way past the sewage treatment pond with accompanying hungry seagulls towards Nirvana. Around were piles of treasures including a near perfect ladder, a hot water cylinder Rose wanted to take for drain water, piles of tyres we reckoned would be perfect for growing potatoes, and a few extremely interesting items we couldn't recognise but figured could come in handy.

Unfortunately you can't steal from the dump like you could in the good old days when my brother found a lawnmower with petrol in it, took it home and mowed the lawn. Rose was particularly distraught at all the useful things she could make something of if given half the chance. For me as a Longshaw, a family known for never throwing away ANYTHING as it might come in useful for something in the coming millennium I was breaking all known family rules by throwing out a dog bed that was perfectly good except for being half eaten from when Mishka had been a pup twelve years ago. Even Rose said it was hurting her to have to ditch it. Then as we drove away she sighed and said "Tonight I will be dreaming of this paradise".

Demelza is still punishing me for puppy sitting Molly. I have washed the sheepskin from her bed but despite getting rid of the doggy smell she sits by it gazing stonily out the window in disgust. However Gypsy is thrilled with this unexpected outcome and has taken it over for her evening nap. Cats are ever opportunists.

Witty Post On A Wet Day

I am sitting on the sofa and this is what I am looking at. I call it the tidy area of the room. As I pan left and clockwise everything goes downhill: there is a chair covered with art materials, drawings on top of the piano, the big mess that is me on the sofa, my unravelling knitting on the armchair, Kit on another chair and Peaches and Gypsy asleep on the small sofa with my wheat packs in front of the window.

I have been so busy all week cleaning wire rabbit cages. Today is my first rest day which is just as well as the Fibro is so bad I can barely move. Great excuse to delay the dusting.

I really wanted this to be a terribly witty post so I will end by saying something funny: hippopotamus.