Sunday.
After all the forecasts and wind warnings, Saturday night was… quiet. Suspiciously quiet. The Nor’Wester that was supposed to barrel through the entire county seems to have taken a detour around Timaru, leaving behind still skies, neither stormy nor sunny, just waiting.
All around us, there’s damage—power outages, uprooted trees, and property owners were spending their morning clearing up. But here in Timaru, nothing happened. I did prick up my ears around 9:30 pm, thinking "that was a good gust", but it barely reached 22 km/h. That was the peak for us. The cherry tree still holds its flowers, unbothered and blooming, and nothing seems to have shifted.
Sunday dawned with a gentle breeze—just enough to lift the washing. A good drying day, so the machine was on early. It’s strange, really, to be nestled in stillness while the world around us reels. A little unsettled. But quietly thankful for the calm.
As the forecast suggested we’d get little more than the gentlest of breezes all day, Tony and I decided it was finally time to risk building the new greenhouse. After clearing away breakfast, popping a big piece of beef into the slow cooker, and pegging out the washing, we donned our boots and headed out.
At first, I mostly stood around while Tony measured the plot, sorted the parts, measured again, and then had another sort of the parts. Eventually, he disappeared into his shed to dig for something. Bored, I wandered off to stand beneath the cherry tree. The bees were busy again. I do love to stand beneath the tree and listen to them going about their day. While I stood there happily listening, I noticed a few weeds, so I pulled on my gloves and got stuck in.
I weeded, I trimmed a few shrubs, I filled the green bin (the one reserved for compostable garden waste), and I planted some flower seedlings I’d been meaning to get in.
All around us, there’s damage—power outages, uprooted trees, and property owners were spending their morning clearing up. But here in Timaru, nothing happened. I did prick up my ears around 9:30 pm, thinking "that was a good gust", but it barely reached 22 km/h. That was the peak for us. The cherry tree still holds its flowers, unbothered and blooming, and nothing seems to have shifted.
Sunday dawned with a gentle breeze—just enough to lift the washing. A good drying day, so the machine was on early. It’s strange, really, to be nestled in stillness while the world around us reels. A little unsettled. But quietly thankful for the calm.
As the forecast suggested we’d get little more than the gentlest of breezes all day, Tony and I decided it was finally time to risk building the new greenhouse. After clearing away breakfast, popping a big piece of beef into the slow cooker, and pegging out the washing, we donned our boots and headed out.
At first, I mostly stood around while Tony measured the plot, sorted the parts, measured again, and then had another sort of the parts. Eventually, he disappeared into his shed to dig for something. Bored, I wandered off to stand beneath the cherry tree. The bees were busy again. I do love to stand beneath the tree and listen to them going about their day. While I stood there happily listening, I noticed a few weeds, so I pulled on my gloves and got stuck in.
I weeded, I trimmed a few shrubs, I filled the green bin (the one reserved for compostable garden waste), and I planted some flower seedlings I’d been meaning to get in.
The flower seedlings went into my big barrels.
I'll add sweet peas to climb the pyramids soon.
Then I found another shrub to trim so I busied myself with that. By the time I was done with that Tony had decided he needed a trip to the hardware store for different screws.
We hopped into the car. At the store we wandered around, picking up his screws, some potting mix, and a compost/mulch blend. Tony found someone to talk to, so I wandered off again—this time into the seedling section—and came out with a big punnet of pansies. Tony decided we ought to leave before I added anything else. LOL. I was hoping for a look at the lemon trees.
It was lunchtime, so we stopped at a favourite spot for a bite to eat, then headed home and back to work. Tony still didn’t need my help, so I planted the pansies, some in the barrels and some under the cherry tree. Next I took my fork over to the neighbour’s place. He’d invited me to help myself to anything I liked, as he’s putting the property on the market and preparing to move.
I dug up a pair of Chatham Island forget-me-nots and planted them in a good spot back at our place. I was about to go back for some more plants when Tony summoned me—he finally had the timber base in place and was ready to begin building the kitset.
It was lunchtime, so we stopped at a favourite spot for a bite to eat, then headed home and back to work. Tony still didn’t need my help, so I planted the pansies, some in the barrels and some under the cherry tree. Next I took my fork over to the neighbour’s place. He’d invited me to help myself to anything I liked, as he’s putting the property on the market and preparing to move.
I dug up a pair of Chatham Island forget-me-nots and planted them in a good spot back at our place. I was about to go back for some more plants when Tony summoned me—he finally had the timber base in place and was ready to begin building the kitset.
Chatham Island Forget me Nots.
(Image stolen from some website, as they are not flowering yet).
We spent the rest of the day putting two-thirds of the greenhouse together. Only the roof and door remained to be added. By six o’clock, the sun had dipped behind the neighbour’s house, and the temperature was dropping, so we called it a day.
It felt good to stop while the light was soft and the air was cooling. Tools down, boots off, and a sense of something nearly finished. The greenhouse, even in its incomplete state, already looks like it belongs. Nestled beside the smaller cherry tree, it’s starting to feel like a promise: of capsicums, chillies, and countless jars of preserves.
Inside, the beef had done its slow-cooked magic, and the house smelled like comfort. I was tired and sore, my back aching again after a full day of bending, digging, and greenhouse wrangling. I took a hot shower before we had tea, letting the steam soften the stiffness, and then we both soaked our weary feet in bowls of burning hot water. Bliss.
As you can guess, I was pretty tired and in no state to tackle sock knitting, so I opted to add a little to the final round of the ripple blanket instead. Once our feet were soaked and dried, I pulled on my slippers, drew the basket close, and picked up my hook.
I didn’t do much—just hooked away for about half an hour before giving up. The stitches weren’t ambitious, but they were enough. A few quiet shells to end a full day. I slept well, very well indeed.
As you can guess, I was pretty tired and in no state to tackle sock knitting, so I opted to add a little to the final round of the ripple blanket instead. Once our feet were soaked and dried, I pulled on my slippers, drew the basket close, and picked up my hook.
I didn’t do much—just hooked away for about half an hour before giving up. The stitches weren’t ambitious, but they were enough. A few quiet shells to end a full day. I slept well, very well indeed.
Monday
Monday dawned dry and bright. The breeze had dropped overnight, and everything was still. Breakfast was cooked with sunlight pouring through the window—and eaten with the sun in my eyes.
Once again, I was out at the washing line before 8 a.m. For just the two of us, there always seems to be a surprising amount of laundry. LOL. We did use a few towels last night, and a bunch of grubby garden clothes went into the wash with them, so I suppose it adds up.
While I waited for Tony, I kept myself busy in the kitchen. One of yesterday’s jobs had been to tidy up the rhubarb—I’d cut away its flowers and pulled a few stems to stew for Tony. It’s been growing slowly all winter, and I’d left it alone until now. But with it flowering, I figured it was time to start using it.
As luck would have it, I had an orange sitting in the fridge. It was meant for another recipe—just the zest, really—but I could use the juice with the rhubarb. Two recipes, one fruit, as it were.
First, I prepared the usual ingredients for the chocolate and coconut slice, then stirred in some slivered almonds and the orange zest. My latest experimental brainwave. That went into the fridge to set. We still have some of the minty version of the chocolate slice sat in the pantry, but I needed to cut the orange, so in the interest of using the entire fruit I had to make an orange version today. Next, I got on with chopping the rhubarb and juicing the orange.
Once again, I was out at the washing line before 8 a.m. For just the two of us, there always seems to be a surprising amount of laundry. LOL. We did use a few towels last night, and a bunch of grubby garden clothes went into the wash with them, so I suppose it adds up.
While I waited for Tony, I kept myself busy in the kitchen. One of yesterday’s jobs had been to tidy up the rhubarb—I’d cut away its flowers and pulled a few stems to stew for Tony. It’s been growing slowly all winter, and I’d left it alone until now. But with it flowering, I figured it was time to start using it.
As luck would have it, I had an orange sitting in the fridge. It was meant for another recipe—just the zest, really—but I could use the juice with the rhubarb. Two recipes, one fruit, as it were.
First, I prepared the usual ingredients for the chocolate and coconut slice, then stirred in some slivered almonds and the orange zest. My latest experimental brainwave. That went into the fridge to set. We still have some of the minty version of the chocolate slice sat in the pantry, but I needed to cut the orange, so in the interest of using the entire fruit I had to make an orange version today. Next, I got on with chopping the rhubarb and juicing the orange.
Just as I thought the rhubarb might be stewed about right, Tony finished playing his online wargame with my brother, so I called him through for a taste test. He suggested a little more sweetener, I obliged, and he tried again. Perfect.
As I stirred and mixed alone in the kitchen my mind got busy and out came this rhyme, inspired by Shakespear's witches.
Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble.
Cauldron boil, boil and bubble.
Orange juice, and rhubarb and zing,
Stewed with spells and sweetening.
*
Tart and tangy, stirred with care,
Steam and citrus scent the air.
One lone fruit, two dishes born,
A slice for dusk, a spoon for morn.
*
Dark delight with coconut thread,
Orange zest through chocolate spread.
Almonds whisper, texture deep,
A fridge-bound spell that’s rich and steep.
*
Cut in squares, a quiet cheer,
Fudgy warmth and citrus near.
One lone fruit, two dishes spun—
Kitchen magic, neatly done.
LOL Tony often accuses me of witchcraft in the kitchen. LOL
By now, he was waiting for me! So, I quickly tipped the rhubarb into a bowl to chill and filled the sticky pan with hot water. Tony washed up for me while I went in search of comfortable footwear. I wasn’t wearing my welly boots all day again—they’re fine for an hour or two, but not all day.
Comfy shoes on, dishes washed, dried, and put away, we headed outside to complete our new greenhouse.
Three hours later, the washing was dry, and the greenhouse was almost complete. The automatic window opener needed a stint in the deep freeze—thirty minutes of chill before a bit of wizardry could be performed to ensure it opens on hot days while we’re at work. So, we came indoors to pop it into the freezer and while we were here decided to have some lunch and a cuppa.
Comfy shoes on, dishes washed, dried, and put away, we headed outside to complete our new greenhouse.
Three hours later, the washing was dry, and the greenhouse was almost complete. The automatic window opener needed a stint in the deep freeze—thirty minutes of chill before a bit of wizardry could be performed to ensure it opens on hot days while we’re at work. So, we came indoors to pop it into the freezer and while we were here decided to have some lunch and a cuppa.
While we were in the kitchen, I pulled the orange chocolate slice from the fridge and cut it into squares. We had a taste. YUMMY! Still that dark, rich, fudgy texture—now with a warming hint of orange. That tweak is definitely a keeper.
Once we got back outside it didn’t take long to attach the automatic window opener, and then we turned our attention to the big greenhouse. We dug coffee grounds and eggshells into the earth for nutrients. Then we started to tidy up.
I started to clear the shelf. A packet of sulphates had stayed in there all winter and was a little firm, so I gave it a squish to soften it—and out fell a HUGE white-tailed spider! I squealed and said that word. You know, the one that rhymes with duck.
Tony, my hero, squashed the spider and thought everything was fine. But it wasn’t. I was freaking out, the hairs on the back of my neck were stood up, my heart was pounding, I was shaking and starting to hyperventilate. I wanted out of there, and he was in the way.
“Move please.
Once we got back outside it didn’t take long to attach the automatic window opener, and then we turned our attention to the big greenhouse. We dug coffee grounds and eggshells into the earth for nutrients. Then we started to tidy up.
I started to clear the shelf. A packet of sulphates had stayed in there all winter and was a little firm, so I gave it a squish to soften it—and out fell a HUGE white-tailed spider! I squealed and said that word. You know, the one that rhymes with duck.
Tony, my hero, squashed the spider and thought everything was fine. But it wasn’t. I was freaking out, the hairs on the back of my neck were stood up, my heart was pounding, I was shaking and starting to hyperventilate. I wanted out of there, and he was in the way.
“Move please.
Get outta my way.
MOVE!
LEMME OUTTA HERE!"
Eventually, he got the message and stepped aside.
I’d dropped the packet on the floor, and Tony spotted a nest in it too—so that was taken care of while I retreated under the cherry tree, listening to the bees and hoping they’d calm me. They sort of did.
I don’t do spiders. I really don’t.
When I looked back inside the greenhouse, Tony was clearing away webs. He commented that there didn’t seem to be anybody home in any of them. Hmm. Maybe because the bloody whitetail had eaten them!
Did I mention I don’t do spiders?
Eventually, he got the message and stepped aside.
I’d dropped the packet on the floor, and Tony spotted a nest in it too—so that was taken care of while I retreated under the cherry tree, listening to the bees and hoping they’d calm me. They sort of did.
I don’t do spiders. I really don’t.
When I looked back inside the greenhouse, Tony was clearing away webs. He commented that there didn’t seem to be anybody home in any of them. Hmm. Maybe because the bloody whitetail had eaten them!
Did I mention I don’t do spiders?
I moved away from the green house and got busy with the leaf vac. That kept me busy and kept my mind off spiders until it was time to move indoors for afternoon tea.
There’s still more to do outside. The greenhouses need planting out—tomatoes in the large one, and a variety of peppers in the smaller. I’ve got leeks waiting to go into the garden bed, and those dwarf beans I planted the other day will join them once they germinate and gain a bit of size.
I’m also hoping to plant a lemon tree down in the corner, beyond the new greenhouse. It’s sheltered there, and with a bit of luck, a lemon tree will be happy.
The idea of planting a lemon tree is a bit uphill with Tony at the moment. He wasn’t thrilled with the last one we tried, and he’s still muttering about its performance. So I’ve decided to take a more persuasive route: lemon cakes. Maybe I’ll try baking a few, zesty, golden, and irresistible—in the hope that they’ll soften his stance.
And once he’s convinced, I’ll be the one to dictate where he plants it. Or maybe I’ll just go ahead and buy one, plant it myself, and let it quietly settle in beyond the new greenhouse. I’ll look after it, fuss over it, and make sure it thrives.
*
That was our Sunday and holiday Monday. Sadly, not much woolly creativity to report—but plenty of standing around, or keeping busy while I waited, and eventually getting on with building a greenhouse. The less said about eight-legged creatures, the better.
The garden looks a little tidier, and we’ve got leftover slow-cooked beef and veg for tea. Easy, peasy. I might even pick up my crochet this evening and add a few more shells.
Only one day of leave left—back to work on Wednesday.
The garden looks a little tidier, and we’ve got leftover slow-cooked beef and veg for tea. Easy, peasy. I might even pick up my crochet this evening and add a few more shells.
Only one day of leave left—back to work on Wednesday.
*
Thanks for wandering through the chaos with me. Comments welcome—especially if you’ve ever met an unwanted eight-legged lodger or bribed a loved one with lemon cake.
Thanks for wandering through the chaos with me. Comments welcome—especially if you’ve ever met an unwanted eight-legged lodger or bribed a loved one with lemon cake.
1 comment:
A busy couple of days - you were fortunate to miss that storm. I hate spiders too! xx
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