Jagged stubbles of corn lie in parallel rows. They stretch away on tawny fields as far as the eye can see. The wide sky is wintry pale, dissected only by the vapour trails of jets, and it seems larger than life, with no hills between where I stand and the horizon, no matter which direction I look. Deciduous trees form random clumps. Bereft of foliage, their skeletal branches are exposed to the elements.
With the melting snow and ice comes an intense smell of cattle. Indeed, the countryside is dotted with farmlets; each has large reddish-brown beasts grazing the corn stubble, or standing in pens set upon rich, dark earth. Ancient barns contrast with shiny metal silos. Houses are picturesque – mostly painted white with steep-angled, grey shingle roofs and gables.
In the shady places where a little icy snow still lies, the earth is hard and frozen underfoot. Every blade of grass is dead and brown. The roots lie far below, waiting for warmer weather before sending their tender shoots upwards.
Yesterday we drove to nearby Branched Oak lake, and as I stood in the setting sun gazing out across the wide expanse of blue ice, a huge flock of Canada geese honked loudly from their roosting place at the lake’s centre.
For a person accustomed to hills, mountains and the ever-present sea, to trees that retain their foliage all year round, to grass that still needs mowing in the heart of winter, the very vastness of this land astounds me. As does the uniformity of colour – the blue of the daytime sky, the pale gold of the vast, rolling fields, the grey and white of the houses.
There is contrast, too. In the bright colours splashed on the landscape by progress. Every gas station or fast food outlet sports an enormous pole with a garish advertising sign on top. And there are fat round water towers, painted blue or white, which break the line of vision.
Every evening, the sun sinks low on a flat horizon and the sky is lit with flaming fingers of orange, rapidly changing to crimson, to ruby, and suddenly to midnight blue. The great dome above becomes awash with stars, the air becomes crisp and frosty, and the silence of the winter’s night descends upon us.
Adapted from a piece first published in Nerdnosh Vol. 4, #49; Story 4 — Feb 19, 1996
Clouds move across the evening sky. The land remains and yet we drift across it, frequently uncaring; ignoring the mistakes made by previous generations.
Last Thursday evening (May 5th) I happened to catch the tail end of an item on the TV One current affairs programme, Seven Sharp. I was flicking through the channels at the time, and to be honest, Seven Sharp is something I’ve never more than glanced at before. But I caught part of an interview with New Plymouth mayor, Andrew Judd, who was explaining the reasons he wouldn’t be standing for re-election this year. He used the very powerful term ‘recovering racist’ to describe himself and this is what grabbed my attention.
Mr Judd was talking about how his attitude to Maori had undergone a change during his three years as mayor. That at first he was ignorant of the relevant issues – in fact, when he first became mayor, he knew nothing of local history and hadn’t even stepped foot on a marae. As he became better-informed, he concluded that Maori should have a voice on his own city council. This caused a backlash from Pakeha in his constituency who disagreed. The personal abuse he received ranged from threatening letters to being spat on in public. At one point, Grey Power put together a petition that led to a referendum to vote against the council having a Maori member.
The kinds of things he was talking about are nothing new, of course. But it was reassuring to hear a non-Maori person of some status speaking about this on national television.
It evoked a mixture of emotions in me… the strongest being disappointment that so little had changed since I co-led Treaty of Waitangi workshops in Otago in the 1990s. I also felt admiration that Andrew Judd was prepared to tell it as it really is. It’s clear that he’s hiked a very hilly and personally-challenging path since being elected mayor in 2007.
As the story drew to a close, what I didn’t expect was the opinionated response from presenter Mike Hosking. His words displayed an ignorance that is inappropriate in someone fronting a primetime current affairs programme. It’s left me feeling much more despondent about the state of affairs in our beautiful country. About how attitudes don’t change and how they can be perpetrated and reinforced by a few well-chosen words, spoken to a captive audience by someone who, by being in that position, is taken seriously by many of those watching.
There is an enormous gulf between what he said and what is actual reality. And there is layer upon layer of history lying beneath that reality.
I don’t usually write on this kind of topic. But it just upset me. Attitudes won’t change unless we know and understand our own history. Unless we teach our children to know our own history. Obviously, we won’t get any help on that as long as our schools can pick or choose which parts of NZ history to include in the curriculum.
(Of course, I’m referring to the fact that we still don’t require the New Zealand Wars to be a compulsory component.) But that’s a whole different blog.
“We need to look after our indigenous people. If we can’t do that how on earth are we going to grow and become this multicultural country we say we are going to be.” Andrew Judd, Seven Sharp, 05 May 2016
He moana pukepuke e ekengia e te waka.
A stormy sea can be navigated.
Māori whakatauki/proverb
Flash Frontier’s theme for April is ‘slow’ and as with other stories I’ve written, Around the Block is a fictional piece with its origins in my own experience. (In December 2015 I wrote about the mix of fact and fiction for Headland magazine, when they posed the question, “Do we write what we know?” in Seeds of a Story.)
I really enjoy reading flash fiction and I’m especially fond of the New Zealand variety – I like to read our own narratives. And reading a complete story restricted to a mere 250 words reminds me of the surprising burst of flavour you get when you bite into a tiny pomegranate seed.
I hope you’ll take the time to visit Slow. I think it’s fascinating to discover how other writers interpret a simple theme. And the stories pack plenty of punch!
A good piece of flash fiction should leave you thinking.
Or satisfied.
Or… well, I think you should find out for yourself.
Au Contraire 2016, New Zealand’s 37th National Science Fiction & Fantasy Convention, is being held in Wellington over Queens Birthday Weekend (June 03 – 05).
1st To the Centre of the Earth, by Robinne Weiss
2nd The Wasp-keeper’s Mother, by Andi Buchanan
3rd Tane Mahuta, by A J Fitzwater
The Seven Wonders of the World Hotel
I was delighted to hear that my submission, The Seven Wonders of the World Hotel, was ‘highly commended’.
The Seven Wonders of the World Hotel is about about what happens to Max, the site supervisor on the Intergalactic Hotels project, on a Saturn’s Day night when he’s called out to investigate a problem near Sector 3B, The Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Outside, the lawn is mottled with smashed leaves
from the cottonwood.
Flax pods heavy with rain thud against each other.
A tui clings for dear life, and is whisked away.
The Northeasterly is not kind to my garden.
Branches snap, flowers shred,
hens scatter.
It passes through the mosquito mesh.
Invisible fingers lift the tapa cloth off the wall
then let if fall.
I’m reminded of Nalauaki.
Torrential rain is its companion.
Waves break against the stainless steel flue.
A million tiny coral flecks rattling with shells.
It’s been so long since it’s been windy.
I’d almost forgotten.
The maize along the fenceline is ready for harvest. It’s a visual reminder that summer is over. The days are slow to lighten and early to darken, and the grass is thick with dew when I make my way to the barn in the early morning. The gravel road is dry and whenever a large truck rattles by, great dusty clouds drift across to settle on our solar panels.
It’s been several weeks since I’ve written about South Head. Or about anything, for that matter. It’s been difficult to knuckle down to writing after taking time off over the Christmas/New Year period.
While it’s been a very long and hot summer, we’ve also had a decent amount of rain, which of course has meant that everything has just kept on growing. We’ve created enough gardens here to keep us busy every daytime hour, and for the first time I’ve been wondering if it’s too much. What with the dead-heading, the trimming, the watering, the sowing, the harvesting… not to mention the tying, the squashing (caterpillars), the sampling, the digging and the weeding, always the weeding. (It’s making me exhausted all over again, writing about it.)
Kumeu A & P Show: curious alpaca & disinterested rooster
So… we’ve mostly been home over the weekends slaving away in an attempt to keep everything under control, with a couple of diversionary breaks visiting the local A & P Shows – I like to check out the poultry while Ben looks longingly at the tractors. 🙂
Bounty from the Garden
A selection of home preserves, from left to right: Beetroot; ‘Look Alike’ Lemon Curd; Spicy Tomato Sauce; Zucchini Pickle; Greek Tomato Paste
Since I last blogged we’ve harvested a parade of fresh produce, including grapes, lettuces, carrots, rhubarb, cannellino beans, sweet basil, garlic, cucumbers, peas, beans (green, yellow, purple), main crop potatoes (Agria), beetroot, silver beet, shallots, buttercup squash, tomatoes, butternut pumpkins and LOTS of of zucchini.
A selection of produce, from left to right: white table grapes; cannellino beans; Rhubarb Tarte Tartin
To use up the rhubarb and zucchini I’ve made several Rhubarb Tarte Tartin and a few jars of Lemon Curd Look-Alike, as well as some zucchini pickle. But the neat thing about this year is that we haven’t had too much of one particular vegetable. Everything we’ve grown we’ve either eaten fresh, or I’ve cooked up, preserved, frozen or baked into something.
Tomatoes and Zucchinis
Left to right: tomatoes & onions ready to be cooked for Tomato Relish; red and yellow habanero slices, arranged for drying
The tomatoes have been great, but I picked the last one yesterday and I know I’ll miss having them on hand at meal times. I’m glad that I preserved a good amount this season (Spicy Tomato Sauce, Tomato Relish, Greek Tomato Paste) and that I also froze about a dozen packs of frozen skinless tomato flesh for use during the cooler months.
Recipes
One of the easiest salads to throw together involves mixing chopped tomatoes with a handful of fresh basil (made into a paste), a generous squirt of extra virgin olive oil and finely sliced or diced zucchini or cucumber. I read somewhere that raw zucchini helps you feel ‘more full’ than some of our other salad vegetables, and it’s lovely and light when sliced thinly.
I love cooked zucchini, too. It’s such a versatile vegetable. My favourite quick recipe involves slicing the zucchinis thickly, then sautéing them in a small amount of olive oil along with crushed garlic and sage leaves. The sage leaves turn crispy and add a delightfully fragrant ‘crunch’ to the dish.
Habanero
3 stages of habanero peppers – fresh to dry
Our habanero chiles are ripening as I type, so I’m picking them each day, drying them, then nuking them in a small food processor. We’ll use the chile powder all through the year to jazz up our meals. One of my favourite uses is to sprinkle a liberal amount into cheese toasted sandwiches. Yum!! (It’s very hot, though – not for the chile uninitiated.)
I’ve also raised a pink variety of habanero this year. It’s currently at the flowering stage, so, no fruit, but I can’t wait to see what they look like!
Pears
Autumn pears & the finished product
March in New Zealand is the month for pears and melons. Our old pear tree has produced a good amount of sound fruit this year and yesterday I bottled a small sample in a light syrup. Not sure why I haven’t processed our pears this way before – I usually freeze them for desserts – but I do like to see the finished product in our pantry. And it’s so easy to preserve them using the water-bath method.
I didn’t remember until after I’d finished that you’re supposed to pack the fruit tightly into the jars to avoid having them float to the top of the syrup… oh well… next time!
Melons
Melon, ‘Collective Farm Woman’ (Cucumis melo)
I sowed seeds for a different melon this year,Collective Farm Woman. It’s a small Ukrainian melon from the Black Sea area, about the size of a honeydew, with pale flesh, the flavour delicately sweet and slightly evocative of bananas.
Bantams!
Our new bantam hens (left) and Charlie
We picked up a trio of Bantams at the recent Helensville A & P Show. They’ve settled in well and having Charlie (the rooster) crow loudly at 5.15 am hasn’t been too much of a shock.
When we first let the bantams join the rest of the flock, they kept to themselves, but they’re now walking around alongside the others. They choose to sleep outside – the rooster up high in a branch of one of the feijoa trees, and the two girls on the fence below. Not sure if they’ll ever voluntarily join the hens in the barn. Perhaps we’ll have to manually move them there in Winter when it gets cold at night.
That reminds me… feijoas! They’re growing plump on the trees. And just now I can see two fat kereru perched up on the yellow guava, eating the first of the golden yellow fruit. The kereru started visiting again a couple of weeks back – I guess our garden is part of their seasonal food cycle, too.
This time of year I have more basil than I know what to do with. And who doesn’t love pesto? This time I decided to make a batch that could also be consumed by the vegans in our family.
Vegan Basil Pesto
Makes approximately 300 grams
109 Calories per tablespoon (15 grams)
I substituted miso paste for the traditional Parmesan cheese. You can use either red or white miso, whichever is your preference. If you like your pesto saltier, add a little more miso to taste.
Throw everything except for the olive oil into a food processor and blend thoroughly. Then with the machine still running, gradually add the olive oil until the required consistency is reached.
If you like your basil chunkier, I’d suggest making it the conventional way, using a pestle and mortar.
Pesto can be kept in the fridge for several weeks. Spoon it into a decent-sized jar and pour on a thin film of olive oil. This will prevent the top discolouring – you can just stir it in each time you use it. It’s pretty yummy though… can’t see my batch lasting long.
You can also freeze small portions of pesto in an ice-cube tray then keep free-flow in your freezer for those winter months when you don’t have the luxury of fresh basil in your garden. It’s great with pasta, or as an addition to just about anything. 🙂
We have so many macadamia nuts that we forget to use them. I’ve been meaning to experiment with making Macadamia Nut Cream for some time – not just for the vegans in the family but also as an alternative to dairy creams. Up until now I kept forgetting about it! (This is very typical of me… bright ideas, best intentions, etc…)
Last night we duly cracked some of our nuts and ended up with about 1 3/4 cups (230 grams) which I soaked overnight in cold water.
I had previously looked up a couple of recipes. The first I decided to adapt is for a regular nut cream, using cashews. Cashews, either alone or combined with almonds, appear to be the most commonly used nuts for nut creams and I can imagine why – they are so creamy and have such a lovely flavour. I’m not sure if our macadamia nuts will be ‘flavoursome’ enough.
The second recipe I’ll try is a recipe for Macadamia Nut Cream Topping. This combines macadamia nuts and coconut milk (among other things). But just now, I’ve tried the first recipe.
For Experiment #1 I replaced the cashews with macadamia nuts.
Ingredients
1 3/4 cups raw macadamia nuts, soaked overnight in water
200 mls water
2 tablespoons real maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon natural vanilla extract
a pinch of sea salt
Process
I nuked all the ingredients in one of our blenders until it was smooth, keeping an eye on the amount of water to add. It was that easy!
The Finished Product
Vanilla Macadamia Cream – the finished product
We’re pretty pleased with the result. The macadamia nut cream has a different texture from dairy cream – you can tell it’s nuts, I guess. It’s noticeably whiter and the taste is creamy and slightly sweet, not overly vanilla or maple syrup. Ben reckons it will taste great on French Toast. And it would be an excellent topping for a sweet pie or shortcake. I could easily eat it like ice-cream.
Calories
This yummy nut cream does come at a price, however.
One tablespoon (approximately 10 grams) equals 42 calories.
A dollop of yummy macadamia nut cream on a dessert spoon.
I’ll post about the second recipe, once we’ve finished this lot! It will be interesting to compare this adapted recipe with one written specifically for macadamia nuts.
The usual nesting choices. Top left: The new nest in the kindling pile (preferred by Honey, and the older hens, i.e., Lottie, Lulu or Leila); Top right: Pompom’s choice is under the edge of the barbecue cover; Bottom left: Francesca, Pearl (in situ) and Hannah use the nesting boxes in the hen house. Bottom Right: Fatima always lays in a nest box in the barn.
As much as I love our hens dearly, sometimes they can be very annoying. This particular tale concerns a couple of our ‘saved’ hens, Honey and Perky.
Honey
Our saved hen, Honey.
In mid-September, Honey went missing for almost a week. Then on two mornings in a row, Ben spotted her eating pellets in the barn with the other hens – as if she’d never been away. Then she’d disappear again.
After some sleuth work (which involved spying and following), we found her in a grassy hollow in the back paddock, sitting on a mountain of warm eggs. She’d been sneaking back to eat at intervals, then returning to the (impossible) task of waiting for the eggs to hatch.
She was well into broody mode, so we had to remove all the eggs and separate her into the back hen enclosure for a few days. When we tested the eggs using the ‘does it float or not?’ test, they all looked a bit borderline so we disposed of them. (Ben later remarked that they didn’t look good when he broke them, so I’m glad I wasn’t involved with that process.)
Honey has stayed around since then, and has built a new nest in amongst the pile of dry kindling in the barn. And for a time, Perky, and our older hens started laying there as well. So there were generally 3 or 4 eggs in that particular nest when I’d check them each day.
Hens don’t usually lay an egg on every day of the week, so when the number of eggs in that nest dropped down to 2 or 3 on most days, I didn’t think too much of it.
Perky
Our saved hen, Perky.
Yesterday, I was deliberating on the fact that our total daily egg tally still looked a little low. I’d still have expected to see 4 eggs in that nest every so often. And we remembered that the week before last, we’d had to rescue Perky when she got herself stranded between two fences along the edge of the back paddock. (I still have no idea how she got there. It was raining and she was as wet as a shag.)
Missing eggs + Perky behaving suspiciously in the back paddock = one conclusion.
Testing the Theory
Last night, Ben shut the gate to the hen enclosure and let the girls out early this morning so that he could see if any of them ran off somewhere.
Believe it or not, there are 19 eggs in this pile!
Sure enough, Perky headed out (the long way) to the back paddock and settled herself down amongst the long grass. Ben found one egg all by itself nearby and left her there to finish laying. When he went back an hour or so later, he found a nest with an additional 19 eggs! Not again! So he brought all the eggs inside and left a fake egg in their place.
At least we know to look there now, and at least Perky hasn’t shown any signs of broodiness. It seems she’s been content to lay an egg on that huge pile, then join her sisters for the rest of the day.
Eggs in a bucket.
I’m going to check the 20 eggs for freshness, and I may end up discarding a few of them, just to be on the safe side. And if I do… well, that will be the annoying part. The waste of all those beautiful big eggs.
Molly is generally oblivious to the goings-on of the hens.
Quinn’s Post Hotel, Upper Hutt, c. 1975. Negatives of the Evening Post newspaper. Ref: 1/4-022569-F. Alexander Turnbull Library, Wellington, New Zealand. http://natlib.govt.nz/records/22424141
It’s been a busy week as far as having stories published is concerned. Of course, I’m delighted, but there is the problem that I need to knuckle down and write some more, get them sent off, etc. I don’t want to run out of any momentum I may have generated.
My latest offering has been published online by Crab Fat Magazine and you can read it here.
Moonshine Road
As I explained in my blog on June 25 of this year, Moonshine Road is a fictional story.
It concerns one particular night in the winter of… shall we say 1976? And thinking back, it would have probably been around June/July.
Outside it was clear and frosty, while inside the Quinn’s Post Tavern, music was pumping.
The scene was set for romance. What could go wrong?
Heni Irihapeti's Blog 