Winter flowers

Wild chervil flowers, in June?
Curious...

Happy home

The old home that stood, until recently, on the property beside ours, had a picture window that couldn't be seen through. It featured this scene rendered in stained glass and while lovely, meant the view of the estuary couldn't be seen from inside. That home has been demolished now, but the window was retained and has stood, or leaned rather, against a little tin shed on the land. Presently, a builder is working to construct a dwelling for a young family that now own the land. Their intention is to install this window somewhere in the building, hopefully, facing in a direction other than the main view :-)

Growing a happiness tree

I was given some Albizia julibrissin seeds and sowed them straight away; well, once I'd poured boiling water over them to break their dormancy, as is suggested for seeds of that family. Of 3, one sprouted, quite soon, and is now at the stage where it will lift its head and open its wings to receive what wintery light there is here in the chilly south. I'm fussing over it; following the sunlight patches around the dining room and lounge, ensuring it falls on the tiny neo-plant as often as possible, even warming its bottom on the log fire, briefly and riskily, to nudge it toward seedling, rather than seed stage. All is well so far. Several things could however, go wrong. I could cook it by forgetting that I've perched it over the burning logs. My grandchildren could up end the pottle and curtail the project in one quick, inquisitive movement. The cat could tip the whole arrangement over during one of his nightly slinks around the house. Those possible eventualities taken into account, I'm still expecting success for my happiness tree. If it does get through to the point where there are leaves and twigs, a stem and roots, I'll plant it out of doors, in a warm and sheltered place in my garden and let nature take her course. Until next winter, and the frost that accompany that season. I suspect the happiness tree won't enjoy frost but I'll just do as I'm doing with my black passionfruit and kawakawa this winter, and drape the Albizia with burlap when the night sky looks clear and starry.

Interiors

Bright fungi

In the foggy dew

Another foggy morning

All is quiet and cool here in the forest garden this morning. The birds though, are busy, quietly raiding the baskets of apples I've left on the veranda. Even the usually-cautious blackbirds are hopping right inside of the baskets, helping themselves to as much apple as they can cram in and only flying off at the last moment when disturbed. The wax eyes are bolder still and return within seconds following a fright. There's no sound of traffic at all; perhaps absorbed by the fog. Or maybe the world beyond our woodland has ceased to exist. Once the fog lifts, I'll know.

Foggy outside but cosy indoors

Two roses

Writing today

I'm on Get Growing duties this weekend. There are plenty of mushrooms in the forest garden right now, and I spotted this tuft of sheep's wool hooked up on the neighbour's fence and thought I'd write something about mooching; so I did!

Row row row your boat...

Playing grandfather (being grandfather, only active) is my great delight now. There are so many ways to be happy when young grandsons and daughters are in the house and garden. This morning, I was fortunate in being able to immerse my grandchildren in a song and a story, by towing them around and around the lounge in a tin tub, painted to look like a steamship, while my grandson rowed, with two "oars" he'd selected from the stack of firewood on the veranda, and my granddaughter, the ever-patient Juniper, sat as passenger in the prow, looking regal. We circled the lounge a dozen or so times, as the music played Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream... beaming at each other, enjoying the bliss of a shared experience outside of the ordinary. We took onboard, at one stage, two soft-toy hedgehogs and a bear, all of whom enjoyed the swishing of the tin boat on carpet, and stopped eventually, for honey on toast and an impromptu dance to Here we go Looby-Loo, before re-embarking and setting out upon another round of rowing. Pretty good fun.

Mystery image

What could it be now..?

Hawthorn

These are the fruits of the Chinese hawthorn. They hold to the tree right through winter. I'm collecting them and scattering them throughout the forest garden to see if they will grow without going through any nursery process. One or two did that last year; I must have dropped some or they were carried by birds, and I'm very encouraged to think that I can help the tree reproduce in this way. Like most trees, the seeds don't sprout beneath the canopy of the parent; whether that's a condition of light, chemical deterrents or whatever, I don't know.

Evening - winter

My camera and I walked about while the sun was still up, looking for nice things detailed by the golden light.

This goldenrod seedhead against a blurred backdrop of silver birch and house looked lovely.

The fragrance of a wintersweet flower couldn't be photographed, at least with the camera I have at present. Gorgeous, it was. Extra special.

One of the tendrils that anchor the grapevine to the medlar tree by the house was sinuous enough to attract my attention.

Circular thinking

Stuff.nz has published an article I wrote about circles. Click here to read.

It lives!

Indoor plants have never done well under my gentle ministrations; they sicken and die, usually, through no fault of their own. I'm not a methodical person and like plants to be independent of my attentions. Consequently (see my first sentence). However, that has changed, praise Gaia, and I've grasped the nettle-of-care and changed my neglectful ways. Here's the proof! Two indoor plants that would otherwise be extinct, are alive and flourishing! The one on the right, variety unknown, was a much taller, gangly, unbalanced plant that somehow survived in a dim corner of the lounge, tied to a cane with string to try to give it an upright form, but forever trying to lie down, in disgust, I imagine. I decided to right that wrong, prune it heavily then bring it back to its natural, splendid and spreading, form. And I did. I water it regularly, feed it occasionally and move it about the lounge to catch the sunlight. It's responding very well and rapidly gaining leaves and form. I expect it will soon be towering over us all and filling our indoor lives with oxygen and gratitude. The second plant is a young tree, a "sensitive tree" - Mimosa something-or-other and was given to me at the start of winter by a friend. Neither he nor I expected the frost-sensitive thing to survive more than a week or two, but it too is thriving in response to my attentions. Every day it spends it's leisure time in the sun, if there is any, and then in the evening, folds its leaves and sleeps till the next morning. I repot it as it grows and water it sensibly. I'm really proud that I've broken my hex-of-neglectfulness and delighted that I had these two plants to try out my new-found responsible attitude upon. Next, I'll try again with a plant I've killed many a time: the maidenhair fern. I can feel its fear already, but as I am a new man, it has nothing at all to worry about.

I'm reading...

...Etchings on the kitchen table:
https://etchingsonthekitchentable.blogspot.com
the blog of Trish on behalf of Nick and Peat, detailing their brave move from sunny Nelson to weather-variable Riverton, a life in a tiny home, on damper-than-usual land amongst folk who speak with a rolled "R"! Nick, Trish and Peat are growing their own, forging wherever they can and making a fine job of grasping the nettle and doing what they believe to be true. Here's Nick foraging wilding, roadside apples... doubtless to share with his family that evening, stewed, topped with something sweet and crunchy...

Last night's fire

At one of the many intersections in the garden, where path crosses path, we lit a fire to crouch over and gaze into. This one featured chunks of macrocarpa too gnarly for the woodfire in the house and pine cones my grandson enjoyed tossing into the heart of the volcano. 

Top of the morning' t'ya

This top hums melodiously as it spins; I've yet to meet a 2 year old that doesn't love it. Younger than that, they can't resist reaching out and stopping it, but once they turn 2 or thereabouts, they're able to let it run its course and enjoy the quieting of the sound, the increasing wobble of the top and the final clattery coming-to-rest. I notice the top spins clockwise until the last moment, when it reverses its spin and turns the other way; I wonder why it does that?

Blogging a previous life

For many years, I wrote a blog: robertguyton.blogspot.com. For some reason, it became glacially slow to load so I decided to start again here. Regrettably, my following couldn't follow easily and these good folk (pictured) have been left stranded. However and most encouragingly, a new list of readers, on which your avatar, gentle reader, is probably to be found.

My "old" blog looked much like this present one, and I've copied some of the posts there for you to read (click the image to expand) if you would care to.

Yew, lignum vitae & ebony - my latest Get Growing column

It's too late!

We'll have to wait till next autumn to taste the exquisite blackberries that grow wild here. It's worth that wait, as they are as heavenly in taste as they are hellish in the picking!

Poroporo

It's a Maori word, meaning "poroporo" :-)
This glorious plant is in the Solanacaea (nightshade) whanau and like it's brothers and sisters, has purple flowers and seed-filled fruits (think "tomato" and "tamarillo"). If you are a potentially child-bearing female feeding on these fruits, you would be unlikely to conceive, such is the oestrogen content of the plant, or some such... This one, along with a score of others, is growing on the dunes beside the river mouth at Riverton. Mums, let your daughters forage here and make jams a chutneys from these...

Earthsea

At last week's second hand book sale in the Civic Theatre, I bought three books written by Ursula K Le Guin. Today I learned she had lived in Portland, Oregon.

Congratulations!

Our friend Stewart was awarded the Queen's Service Medal for his mahi kaitiaki; pai rawa e hoa!

Great photo...from a wee while back 😀

Flower of the day

The washed out, faded and spent petals of the lace cap hydrangea cling onto their stalk, despite the frost and rain.

Frost's finished

Light rain to start the day and the frost was washed away; all is green once again. The kereru are back! The pair that 'always' live here have been away somewhere for a couple of months but returned this week to perch in the birch and beech trees, nibble on the tagasaste and poop everywhere; it's so good to see them again; I'd been worried about them.

Fifth frost morning

This  photo was taken during the day following the fourth frosty morning; it's too cold to go out just yet, but there will be some pretty scenes to capture when I brave the fifth chilly, crunchy morning walk around the forest garden.

Morning light

Child's play

My 2 year old grandson invited me to come and pick the mushrooms. We would push these lawn mowers, he said, and fill these two precariously-balanced baskets (he didn't say, "precariously balanced') with mushrooms that were growing, he indicated, on the carpet in the lounge. We found very few but it was a great adventure.

Follower

This little fellow might like to be a follower :-)
You too, might like to follow this blog: I'd be encouraged by your encouragement, so, click "follow" and ...follow! If you would...

Birds on a wire

I threaded apples onto a bamboo cane and set it in the garden outside of the French doors. Bellbirds, waxeyes and blackbirds visited, balancing elegantly on the swaying cane while they pecked at the chilly apples.