wishing you a very kiwi xmas

this year the citizens of the rara republic threw tradition out the window.
we celebrated the solstice with wine and food with friends and family( -there was plenty to be celebrated!)
and after the sun set on the longest day it felt like the summer really began. long, warm days, covered in sun-screen and sand. we packed oursleves into the car and traversed the hills to camp out on another beach for a couple of days over xmas. we made decorations and hung them on a nearby tree (so santa knew where to leave the stash, of course!). and, as opposed to 'traditional' christmas images of snowy landscapes, we woke on christmas morning to the sound of surf breaking on the beach... we sat in the shade of the decorated tree while we opened presents and then (after coffee) went to the beach for a bit of a swim and some kite-flying.
we liked this new tradition so much that we're thinking of doing it again next year!
hohoho
xxx

yaourt!!!

we love papa's yoghurt!

home handyman

it looks like we could do with a bit of paint here

this'll do nicely

'op, it looks like i may have missed a bit

come dance with me

after a year of dreaming we're ready to dine and dance outdoors


you are welcome

nor'west

the hot wind sears the plains as it makes its way to the sea. gusting at over 40km/h it bends trees in its wake.
today is not a good day for a fine hairdo
this morning, while i had other things to do, i was once again in the garden. i could see my beans dancing with the wind; soft ballet coreographed by nature's whimsy... me, i was wandering about, string poking out of my pockets like a true peasant, trying to secure everything to anything in the vain hope that i might save something.
and it's not just the beans that dance. in the wings the apples play their part, swaying somewhat violently with every new gust.

monty's surprise lost 7 apples.

to others, 7 is not necessarily a magic number. it's only significance is that on the scale of this year's harvest it was a part of the majority. and, as far as fables go, it was worth a week's accomodation for a doctor outside of the republic.
when you translate your apples into real terms, it's a whole new story, eh?!

but, busy is as busy was, we were. in the garden. after countless voyages to the beach to get sand i finally got to start laying the bricks that many hands cleaned last week.
inside the house it's painting season again; walls, ceiling, window, trousers and shirts given a fresh coat of paint in the old office in preparation for new guests.

and otherwise, other than the occasional bout of madness brought about by the wind, all is well in the republic.

xx
mama b

rainy days at the beach

it's raining. it's grey. we're indoors surfing the internet, not out watching waves.
but it's not all bad, the internet is like a giant library without smelly old men looking over your shoulder. and just now the research subject of choice is cheese-making.

i got a book of instructions on cheese making for my birthday a coupla months back and interest has been recently rekindled since we've managed to find a local source of raw milk.

(i say local, but it does come from a town almost 100km from here... but being as we're part of a network of 100 folk i guess it's 1km a piece, so it's not all that bad)

so, local(ish) raw organic milk. just as you remembered it from when you were a kid. when milk came in bottles and was delivered daily to your gate. what happened to that? full fat milk. is the world so fat obsessed that we had to abolish it entirely for the lack of adult-abled choice? or, as my dad suggested, it's just merely the milk companies getting fatter on the proceeds of milk by-products as they ride the trend for lo-fat and deliver lo-quality products.

lo-fat my arse.

so, local(ish) raw organic milk. that, sitting in the bottle, is actually coloured cream. where the cream sat on the top looks almost the colour of butter (admittedly, sick butter; or butter from non-grass-fed-cows..). that p describes, poetically, as unctuous. (you might have to queue your french accent to grasp the thickness of the description of the milk)

and when, mixed with the yoghurt culture, it makes something so devine, so fresh, so, so...
it is so good that i had it without honey.
nude yoghurt.

so, local(ish) raw organic milk. soon to be local(ish) raw oraganic cheese. being as we've just ordered ourselves a thermometer and stuff and, given the right evening with appropriate amounts of wine, and friends, and moon slinking over the horizon, and cultures (not just the yoghurty variety) we should be able to, according to research, go :
voilà! fromage! fabriqué dans la rara republic

xx
mama b
apprentice fromagère
(i'll post photos, but you might just have to come round for a cheese tasting workshop!)

men at work

between us we managed to clean more than 220 bricks!
of course, we'd have gotten much more done if the grown ups didn't do so much talking...

how does your garden grow...

what may look like a pile of rubble to others is in fact the beginnings of a paved area for the folk in the rara republic.

many moons ago a plan was sketched out on paper; eyes closed and imagination set sail as we dreamed the winter dream of summer dining, al fresco -grande banquets and little picnics. slowly slowly over the last months we've excavated soil, broken up old concrete paths and moved it into position, ready, to be the base for our bricked outdoor kitchen/dining/lounging/living area.
winter became spring turned to summer and before you know it, november's end was in sight!

how can we celebrate mid-summer without somewhere to dance outside?

so beneath the hottest sun we worked like peasants, digging, smashing, sweating and cursing. we moved a tap from one side of the garden to the other. we raked concrete pieces and rubble and p hired a machine to compact it all. now we are ready for the next phase.

parked on our driveway for some time now is a rather large pile of old bricks. not any old bricks these, they're old dirty bricks. bits of old mortar cling to the side in memory of once was a fireplace or chimney in some other story. old dirty bricks are practically free.
mostly because they need cleaning...
i've had a go, i've probably cleaned about, say, 20. i can see why some people give them away. when it's only 20 you need to clean, it's ok. but 1200? yikes!
luckily we're part of a new community initiative- a timebank, where you work for others in exchange for them working for you elsewhere.

so tomorrow we'll be hosting a working bee.\

a working bee it seems is a particularly kiwi thing. it means inviting good friends and neighbours around to work for you in your home -cleaning bricks, or painting, or gardening, in exchange for love and scones and a cup of tea. and the promise of exchanged labour later on if ever you need it...

and in the second garden, the nurturing garden, all is well. the broad beans, taller than capt c and nearly taller than me, are producing beans faster than we can eat them now. the tomatoes, courgettes, peas, pumpkin, lemontree and potatoes are all beginning to flower. the strawberries ripen to the deepest red and the raspberries aren't far behind. the garlic, planted on the winter solstice, will be pulled on the summer solstice, along with onions and shallots. we have carrots a-plenty which is nice, as we were recently gifted a juicer. (now there is one appliance i've always dreamed of owning, and now i own one i really feel like i have arrived in the kingdom of appliance ownership). however, those little orange gems haven't yet made it to the kitchen as we eat them up straight from the soil (we wipe the soil off on our trousers first!)
we seem to have a happy balance of insectery- pests and predators abound. bees buzz, busy.

and today it is raining.

xx
peasant b
(having the morning off)

beach visits with buddies

oh go on, you know you want to!

on y va!!!

teeta max!

whilst ripening..

that one's mine!
as we watch them ripen, we pre-book our strawberries and then it becomes a race...

despite all the work to be done, being spring and all, being folk of many projects, we've still got time for coffee and a bit of contemplation in the garden

gatherer/hunter

being vegetarian i became fascinated with the idea of gathering wild foods while i was a teenager.

the maori arrived with limited resources but were keen hunters, and the land produced an abundance of fish and birds- but humans cannot live by flesh alone.
they imported kumara, or sweet potato which they cultivated but their fruit and medicine had to be found in the bush. obviously this knowledge took generations to accumulate- without universities or google the knowledge was passed down through story-telling.

this knowing became part of my yearning. bushcraft and survival, selfsufficiency and living 'off the grid' became the basis of my studies.

in classrooms i studied horticulture via modern means; although i served the time honoured method of learning as an apprentice these teachings made me even thirstier.

i wondered -what about plants and peoples in other parts of the world? what about their relationships, their medicines...

i gave a lecture to fellow apprentices on 'native edible plants' and from that moment forward i would always be searching. can i eat that plant? what's its nutitional value? does it carry any medicinal qualities?

finding plants in their native habitat has always delighted me, although i've been satisfied many a time by plants in cultivation. p can tell you a nearly notsofunny story involving a steeperthanitlooks rock and someone who is slightly passionate about orchids and carniverous plants... (photographing it from below and using a digital zoom afterwards is not enough!)

i spent a coupla months living with this greek dude. a former bio-medical engineer and fervent vegan this guy taught me about wild foods. at the time i wasn't so enthusiastic. i was volunteering on his farm as a wwoofer (willing worker on organic farms) for my bed and food and after working for 7 hours i fancied something a little more substantial than a plate of weeds! but he managed to convert me to being vegan (which i continued with for a number of years- until i discovered french cheese, actually) and taught me a thing or two about foraging, about gleaning, and about finding medicine in the plants around me.

i took this knowledge with me.

a few years later, coupled with the rest of my botanical knowledge, it really came in handy.

while traversing the mongolian steppes i soon discovered that there was not a lot on offer for your average vegetarian. i ate snickers because the peanuts had protein, pascal introduced me to chocolate on toast, i could have bought shares in la vache qui rit cheese and ate approximately 250 individual serves of instant chinese noodles.

but one day sheltering under the heavy coat of our mongolian friend during a down-pour i noticed wild onions growing. i pointed them out, our mate shrugged. i noticed thyme growing, creeping across the rocks. not interested, at all. one morning i noticed a field full of mushrooms.
oh the delight!
- my mate told me that if you can peel them, you can eat 'em! i said, knowledgably

this sort of knowledge isn't always sage advice.

we didn't get ill, luckily. it turns out there is no rule for identifying mushrooms other than to know what you're doing. i read my girlfriend's blog the other day and was very interested when she mentioned doing spore prints. i feel the need to investigate further. (have a read of this: http://theroadislife.blogspot.com/2009/10/spore-prints-for-mushroom.html )

and this brings us to this stage in my 21st century tale. mushroom hunting on the internet. aquiring knowledge that would be much better learnt in the field.

i am confident identifying herbs, trees and other miscellanous weeds and taking them home to make meals, tissanes, compost tea, or food for the chooks. but those little champignons that grow on our lawn, in the forest down the road.... aiie.
i guess i need to learn a little more to become a confident hunter of fungi.

xx
mama b

when the farmers come to town

on one of his first visits to our shores, capt cook left behind some sheep and a couple of rabbits and was 'quite surprised to see how well they'd done for themselves' when he returned.
it is possible to buy our 'local' produce almost anywhere in the world- i've seen enza apples in bangkok, dairylea cheese in a nicaraguan supermarket, and listened to tales of mythical snowy white sheep from a greek wool seller.
word gets around. and of course, word gets exagerated.
what better way to sort it out other than to put on a show.

the agricultural and pastural show

farmers come from far and wide to compete. their wares, the finest cattle, sheep and fowl the country has to offer. rare breeds, some of them, but all of them prized for their ability to perform.

c and i sat on the judges bench, taking a pause. there was a young boy sat there with a special stick that i saw the other farmers prodding their cows with. i asked him if he was competing.
-my dad's the one their with the blahdeblah (the name of the breed; he might as well have said something in mandarin, i'd be just as likely to understand)
he then described to me the things that the judges are looking for. he could quite equally have been describing what he might look for in a girlfriend... his cow (actually, it was a bull) came 6th.
i thought they were all pretty. but then, i am a vegetarian.

we moved on.

we went through the pens, where all the cows with calves, sheep, pigs and poultry were lazing about. munching hay. quite an aroma i tell you. we saw various breeds of chickens, stripey pigs (kunekunes) merino sheep (which were awfully dirty- not at all like the greek bloke described them) and goats. there was also a city farm, an area for the children to go and pat the baby animals.
our c was more interested in watching the girls and jumping off the bales of hay.

finally we went and watched some horses jumping over fences which calix thought was hilarious. then a tractor came to remove the fences before the prizes were awarded- this he thought was even more amusing.

out of our back yard

we note the change of seasons with the passing of one vege to another.

the red silverbeet wants to set seed, i cut it back daily, fighting nature with the gardener's sword. but as it finishes the broad beans begin: early on in the season you can eat the young broad bean like you might a french bean- sliced, steamed...
my first lot of rocket is rapidly starting to flower. i let it; i want to collect its seed. likewise the coriander. we've already munched our first lot of lettuce that were nursed through the winter under a cloche.
the potatoes and yams pop their heads up, the tomatoes and courgettes have started flowering, and the shallots are setting their flower buds too. the carrots are fattening as are the apples on monty's surprise. the branches of both the olive and the feijoa are filled with flowers, anticipation is high. and, we're still picking lemons (we've been rationing ourselves a bit there- p has plans to make another batch of confit de citron again that will hopefully see us through till next season).

the chickens vary in productivity. cher, of course, gives an egg every day. the silkies, ever broody, spend hours on the nest, but like their silver sisters, are lucky to produce an egg every second day. which is a shame, as we were doing a roaring trade with those precious blue eggs...

we inspected the strawberries again tonight- oh la la. it's going to be a fight with the birds for those! and the raspberries!

i'm still sewing seeds- sorrel, thyme and spaghetti squash more recently, and waiting on others... i surf the internet, obsessed now with seed buying. trying to find rare and heritage seeds that have higher nutrient yield per plant... purple podded red peas, purple moari potatoes, italian broccoli, red and welsh onions, chinese bokchoi...

and i can't turn down any plants either! i came home last week to a bag of sprouted potatoes in a bag on my doorstep- a gift from a neighbour... a chap across the road pops his head over the gate- fancy any cherry tomatoes?, and despite already having 14 plants in 2 different varieties i say yes. and yes to mizuna seedlings, and yes to asparagus seeds, and yes to cabbage seedlings (i can make saukraut!) i've planted my spare courgette and i'm eyeing up a spot for my spare pumpkin too.

not to mention the front lawn!
long has been the debate of vege production on the front lawn. i'm quite keen on digging the lot up and putting in a cereal crop- like quinoa... p reckons it's madness. we've already planted a feijoa and a cherry tree there; i snuck in some cabbages, and it turns out the only place to put the gifted potatoes will be on the front lawn as well... and what about those asparagus p is so keen on?!

it's all very exciting. there is nothing sharing a meal in the garden, in the last of the day's sun, that came from the garden. we look over each other's shoulders at the meals to come.

these are the joys of spring in the republic.
xx
mama b

the perfect bath

the perfect bath comes after a long day, in the sun, playing sport with your friends. (ok, does drinking cider while playing pétanque qualify for this?)
the perfect bath usually has some things in it to alleviate sunburn, sore muscles, fatigue
for this alone i'd add 1/4 c baking soda, 1/4 c epsom salts, lavender and sandalwood oils, about 5 drops each...
then of course i'd add my 2 favourite men
and put the whole lot in my garden

who needs a bathroom?
xxx
mama b
(squeeky clean)

a revolution in the air

the night sky was heavy with the aroma of gunpowder, but there was no revolution to be had. at least not this night.
what a strange thing to be celebrating though- some spanish dude trying to blow up the british parliament. good on him, i say. not that i've actually got any political opinions, but why not express yourselves if it means that one hundred odd years later we have the right to ignite fireworks and dress the heavens in gold and silver.
the crowd goes oooh
and aaah
and calix, witnessing his first lot of pyrotechnics was asking two questions:
where's his buddy max?
and was there any more?
who knows what acts of terrorism we'll be celebrating in years to come
xx
mama b
(perhaps one part green, one part anarchist)

waiting for the train

c and his good friend aramaya.
obviously uptonogood.

xx
mama b

preserves

what was once a driveway full of poorly performing leeks has made its way towards an afternoon of pickling and now we have to wait, once again until the leeks are ready.
2 weeks, they say.
i've waited months already.
perhaps the tiny piece of soil beside the driveway was not the best position for my winter leeks, but we did try. we parked the car at inconvenient angles for months on end and still they didn't grow. i mounded them up, i observed them. but those lazy-arsed leeks just wouldn't move. i'd almost given up hope when one of my edible garden buddies told me -if you don't pay attention they might bolt!
bolt indeed. these leeks would be the only creatures in the world who didn't fatten through not moving. bolt? bolt! i'd be lucky!
but bolt they did. in their waif-ish way those skinny leeks lept skyward all of a sudden and so i was obliged to pull them out all at once. and being as it's not soup season i had to come up with a cunning plan b.
my pickling and preserving book had a recipe within for leek and cashew pickle.
i assembled the ingredients
i busied myself sterilising jars, chopping leeks and other technical stuff.
i pretty much did everything but read the recipe from beginning to end.

what is it about us humans that we think we can get away with this sort of behaviour?
we have a go at it before we read the instructions and invariably have to refer to them halfway, with some sort of mystery part in the left hand and the screwdriver nowhere to be seen. or in this case, realising that the leeks needed blanching minutes before i was about to put them into the jar.

well, problem is now i've done it. the lids are on and the book says i've gotta wait! 2 weeks. all sorts of things could happen in 2 weeks.

-so just how do you eat these pickles? asks p
-with cheese?
he snorts; he is insulted with this reply.
to his approval the book suggests coupling with pork or beef of some description... great.

i reckon it'll go great with some wine ;)
xxx
mama b

mon château fort et mon bac à sable

coocoo! regarde moi! j'ai une boite spéciale que mon grandad m'a guardée et papa a decoupé ce trou... maintenant c'est un chateau fort!

mama, un verre s'il te plait pour célébrer!!

a+
c

developing

do you ever wonder the origin of words?
i'm not talking about from the etymologists view point, i'm talking about from 80-something centimetres, from the prospective of a 19 month old friwi.
our wee man has a series of words that we can understand. take hmmhmm -this we know to mean dog, or chien, depending on who you're talking to. (he's recently shortened this to hmmm) the origin of this word is obvious, as it's the noise a dog makes. likewise mao, bokbok and tweee.
but how does ah-ee mean ouef? when we point out to calix that the correct word for egg is ouef, he then repeats 'ach'.
it took me a while to figure our that 'didit' was voiture, but 'wewo' being velo should have been obvious!
our son, the mini polyglot, has even ventured into translation. his granny insists that cheese is the correct word for momage, that car is the correct word for didit. perhaps calix thinks that maybe it's just granny that uses these words as he always points out things in his language to grandad.
he calls a telephone 'bye', and honey and jam are both 'ma-ees', but there's no mistaking marmite or pain, yaourt or jjjjjjjjjja (chocolate).
he'll happily point out the bain, douche, bottes, couche, and he's ecstatic when you mention going to la plage.

but the greatest joy has been his recent ability to express his gratitude with his own little way of saying merchi.

his little community of friends include a swiwi (swedish kiwi), diwi (german, or deutsch kiwi) a briwi (brazilian kiwi) and i'm not sure how to describe an english-kiwi.
as max points out something to calix 'teeta caca!' he says, calix is happy to repeat it. and little aramaya says 'zu' when he shuts the gate, calix repeats that as well.
our little men, are they the future of united nations peace talks? or a super football team with a language all of their own....

xx
mama b

admiring the greenery

we welcome spring to the republic, with open arms. we rejoice with the traditional barefooted peasant dance, we drink cider on the terrace until our cheeks glow a rosey red and we picnic on the grass.
from the window, on the chillier days (cos it's still only spring) we watch the buds fatten and burst. the green becomes greener until it's as green as can be.
which is pretty green.
the shade of grass.
or, new leaves.
or aphids.
not bothered with immigration formalities these clandestine insects snuck into the garden and hid amongst my lettuce, disguised themselves on the sage leaves.
obviously these freeloaders haven't read the book on companion planting as they've made a home not 30 cm from my garlic.
so now, i wonder to myself, do i wait for their natural predators to arrive? as nature would have it that's the logical next step. or do i make up some sort of witches potion to kill them all (and disregard nature)? or do i just ask them, politely, to move on (using my best britishpoliceman voice)?

so far, i'm using the zen approach to gardening- that it's their darma to be eaten & that someone else will be along shortly...

in the meantime, we have been blessed with rain. august was unseasonally hot and dry; but what it offered in unseasonal parchiness september countered with its damp and cold: do not pass go, go directly back to winter...
alas, without the spring rain the spectacle would be short lived! but while each droplet was filled with the promise of new life (not in the biblical sense, of course), it also imported certain fungal blooms, known to the gardener as powdery mildew (and silently cursed under the breath).

aiie aiie aiie! already!

quickly i mixed up a teaspoon of baking soda in a litre of water, and sprayed it over the leaves.

nature countered with rain.

i picked some comfrey, nettles and chamomile and set to soak in a bucket with seaweed tea for 2 days. comfrey, stinging nettles and seaweed contain silica, which adhers to the leaves and makes it's difficult for the fungi to spread, the chamomile contains a mild anti-bacterial action... they'll also help fortify the plant's general health...

and it rained some more.

and they forecast more.

so even before my plans for being selfsufficient in the vegetable department have germinated it appears that it is going to be more difficult than i first imagined...
it's not quite a case of counting your chickens before they hatch...

xx
mama b

sorry tales

nee-naw-nee-naw went the red fire engine.
the siren sounded loud and i turned to see it flash red passed our window. and then again. and then again.
-that was close, remarked a visiting friend. yes, very close. closer inspection via our back window revealed great swathes of black smoke bellowing across the sky.
yikes!
as all good neighbours and naturally curious people do, we were obliged to go and have a closer look.
the three fire engines were parked at viscious angles across the road, hoses transporting water, but not fast enough, to the flames that were belching from the red hot tin roof. men yelled instructions while a crowd watched, mesmorised. i saw a man, not dressed in the traditional firefighters uniform (but wearing soot all the same), helping to move a hose and then give up. he looked to the gods and then to his feet as he walked in sadness away from his home, the flames and the gathering crowd.

this punctuated the week of tsunami warnings, earthquakes and unseasonal snowfalls that left more than just my neighbour a little sad.

all but my neighbour's stories carry the wrath of the earth under their breath...
but, all the same, my neighbour's story needs an audience. it's a story i know i shall learn a little from. it's the story of one man, cold, trying to warm his house against the unseasonal cold front. the story of a man using wet wood in his fire place, a man who couldn't/wouldn't chop the wood smaller, or maybe did, but still decided to use kerosene to get the flames jumping.
and jump they did.
onto his hands. he spilt the kerosene. he ran to the kitchen, dripping the kerosene and flames in his wake. by the time he'd washed his hands and relieved his light burns he turned to see his floor alight.
he fought this fire only to find once extinguished that he could still hear the flames roaring- but not in the fire place.
within minutes that hungry fire, having turned its nose up at the wet wood, had licked, devilishly, the camping equipment stored too closely to the fire, the walls, the ceiling... a fire doesn't wait to taste a wooden house.
dialling 1-1-1 calls the local volunteers, but by that time the sorry tale was already spun.

our week of bagpacking, of warnings and practice runs, of forecast snow but not forecast woe has sent me a couple of lessons on the way.
namely, some times you can't plan for an emergency, but you can be prepared. not necessarily just by knowing where your keys are, or where your passport is, but by simply knowing that your loved ones know that you love them.
and secondly, there are no short cuts. time can not be saved, i am sure of that. it always seems, to me, when i try and do something a little simpler, or quicker, it goes wrong. i break the thing. or it bends, or i spill it. all things are meant to take the length of time they take. not even instant means instant, and anyway, if the opposite of instant is time-consuming, maybe it's actually worth investing the time, if it's worth doing.
and finally, despite everything, shit happens. and it happens to everyone. all the time. and sometimes being the best prepared person in the whole entire world, it might just happen to you as well.

as well as being prepared, we need to just be. now. be happy, be sad, be jubilant, be angry, be jealous, or outraged, or guilty.
but it's better to simply be,
or be simple.
xx
mama b
(trying hard to just live in the here and now)

ingredients

i'm not sure how long it's been that i've been interested in making things 'from scratch', or how widely known this is, but this year for my birthday i was given a really great series of books on how to make stuff.
cheese, preserves, mosaics and cosmetics amongst other things.
one of the books, 'domestic goddess on a budget' had some great ideas, and the recipes matched the things i had in my cupboard. all that was really missing was some wine and some friends to share it with.
so i invited over some demi-goddesses who brought along some wine and nibbles and prepared to pass an evening together, eating, laughing, drinking and pampering ourselves with homemade cosmetics.
we soaked our hands in hot water while patchouli oil wafted gently towards our noses; i made a honey sugar scrub which we used to really clean and soften our hands. next i whipped up a coconut oil cream (with lavender oil) to moisturise our lovely skin. we nibbled, sipped and gossiped while we applied a honey-yoghurt face mask (with lavender blossoms and banana). and we laughed outrageously while we sat with granny's cold cream all over our face.
the reason we laughed was really because this cold cream was quite unlike granny's traditional cream.
me thinks that granny never tried to convert her recipe back to imperial measures to match the ancient scales (she was probably already using these scales and wasn't confused to start with)
me thinks that also granny hadn't drunk the better part of a bottle of wine before trying to undertake said conversion either!

i put in double the amount of beeswax prescribed....

needless to say, although it wasn't quite as granny intended, it was delicious. after washing it off our faces felt fresh and rejuvenated.

some might think it was a dangerous time to gather, the night before a full moon. but no. we had a great time, discussing all the issues that interest a series of fine women.
and decided to do it again.
before the next full moon.

xx
mama b

the recipes are simple- try it yourself!

honey-sugar scrub:
1T honey, 1/2C sugar, 1/2T lemon juice.
heat honey to liquid add lemon juice & mix; add to sugar and mix well.

coconut oil cream:
1T coconut oil, 1/2T almond oil, 1/2T rosewater, 10 drops of essential oil
combine...

honey-yoghurt mask
1t finely minced lavender blossoms, 1/4C yoghurt, 1/8C mashed banana, 1/8C honey
soak lavender ablossoms in yoghurt for 1hr or more; gently stir in banana; add honey last & stir to incorporate.
wash face & generously apply; leave for 1/2 hr. rinse off with warm water

granny's delicious cold cream
84ml olive oil, 28g beeswax, 28ml rose-water, 10-20 drops of rose essential oil.
put the oil and wax in a double boiler and heat until the wax melts; gently warm the rose-water and pour into the wax-oil mix; remove from heat, add rose oil and stir until it cools.

use the best ingredients you can afford.
pascal made the yoghurt, the honey was local manuka honey, the lavender blossoms from our garden; the wine from our island and the goddesses a delicious blend of local and imported goods.

a practice run

wednesday morning me and calix dragged our weary heads off the pillow and trundled into the lounge. i was supposed to have organised a picnic for some kids but the weather was looking like we'd have to cancel, again. i turned on the internet to check my mail.
nothing much in my inbox, i flicked to the weather. as i thought- rain.
while i was waiting for the kettle to boil i clicked on stuff- a kiwi news website. the headline reads:
TSUNAMI WARNING
almost similtaneously the phone rings. it's my girlfriend lina. she also lives at the beach, on the beach front. she knows we don't have a telly and so potentially, i don't know the news. -check it out, she says.
an enormous earthquake and subsequent tsunami hit samoa that morning. the wave would arrive on my beach in 2 1/2 hours. enough time for coffee....
i searched further.
they were predicting the wave to be 1m high.
at low tide, this would just be a surge.
at high tide, this would mean a lot of extra water.
i searched further.
the civil defence website suggests staying away from the beach, estuaries and rivermouths. like, pretty much where we live.
i tuned into the radio to try and get some updates. there was an idiot going on about it 'only being 1m, why wasn't anyone out surfing'. obviously this guy didn't live at the beach! i tuned out.
second coffee and time for action. but what do i take? i know pascal and i had spend a whole evening talking about this, but now, well, there was a wave on the way....
i made a pile of clothes for calix; nappies, toiletries and other essentials. i packed the cameras, computer and hard drive into a box. i went to the garage to get my old back pack out of retirement- one more adventure ahead...
i looked around: 1m of water wouldn't destroy our house, necessarily. but a metre of seawater and debri in the garage where all our books are stored would be devastating... and then i looked at the garden: wow, 1m of saltwater would completely take out the vege garden, and leave it that way for some time too. and the chickens? do i take them? and if i take the chickens, do i take the cat????
so in my demi-panic i settled on taking just our digital memories and enough stuff to keep capt c sorted. i shoved it all in the car and headed to my folks', inland two-storey house.
they'd not even seen the news and were quite surprised with my call
-hi, can we come to yours?
-yes, of course. what's up?
-there's a tsunami warning. i'll be there in a bit...

but no one else was preparing themselves.

the wave had arrived in the north island and while they evacuated some low-lying shore front areas the wave was little more than an unexpected hightide. for us.
for the poor folk in samoa it's another story.

strange, though. the things i thought important. obviously we were under no real threat. we weren't expecting a 3m wall of water like in samoa. but the prospect of leaving my home, of having to decide what i would take... well, i'm pleased i've had a good practice now. i know that we're (mostly) prepared.

xx
mama b

when i grow up...

people always suppose that when i grow up i'll be an accountant, lawyer, astronaut. stuff like that. but what i really want to be is a dancer for a rock n roll band...

sometimes i'm too cool for clothes

it's not like we're all nudists or anything, but some things can be enhanced by being done nude.
like painting
or going down the slide
or generally just hanging about.

SpRiNg

out on the bike spring's heavenly scents assault the nostrils, both left and right. apricots and peaches waft past me, subtle and yet sublime. spring. green. and pink.
today was an entirely barefoot day for both me and capt c. we were the both of us in the garden this morning from before breakfast (which was weetbix (for c), if you're interested) even though the ground was still a bit chilly beneath our nonstockinged feet first thing.
we fed the chickens, collected the eggs, ("ai-ee" in calix speak) watered the seedlings in the glasshouse; gave the pirate her biscuits. all business.
if we were living in europe, or in the northern hemisphere, we would be excited about the shades of may-green that acompany spring. this used to please me when i was there, being a may-child and all. but here, in the republic, and on our little peninsula, there aren't that many deciduous trees about to notice it being re-greened.
autumn slinked past. autumn isn't fragrant!
but spring!
oh, those lucious, fresh buds!

of course, the problem with spring is the fact that it's not cold! barefootbicycling at night. which really means that i lost a glove on the way home cos i wasn't wearing it!
but at the end of the longest winter in the world ever i'm not complaining.
(aren't they all the longest???)

we're kinda hoping that our wee man will be nappy free by the end of the summer. already he has enjoyed several afternoons sans couche. his announcements are always mal-timed. 'peepee' he says, afterwards. but, as with other things, he is fascinated with everything that papa and mama do. he mimics our every move- from cleaning teeth to visiting the toilet...

my little man, ever the socialite. we made a new friend the other day; pascal introduced himself, offering his hand. hand extended, calix did likewise.
and tonight, as the night drew on, i noticed c was getting tired. -do you want to go home? i asked, he nodded. and after we had dressed ourselves for the bicyclejourney back to the republic (500m) c went round the room and personally said 'bye-bye' to everyone there (being careful to offer a kiss to the girls).

only half french?

xx
mama b

community barter

something i've always dreamed of is being self sufficient. it's a little more complicated than just growing a few veges, and while we may be able to have our little urban homestead we will never be fully selfsufficient on 500m2. we can try. we've planned and built a vege garden with fruit trees, we have chickens and we dream of bees. we've small pencil sketches of solar hot water heaters and solar ovens, but we'll never be 'off the grid'. we can't produce milk, nor wheat, nor chocolate!

but we can swap!

our neighbourhood edible garden network has set up a weekly swap-meet for all things edible. the philosophy is if you've produced it, bring it along!
all week i'd been chewing over what i could take along to swap. what have we got in abundance? at the debut to spring we've mostly got hope, but we can't swap that!

but a quick look round and we thought- ok, we've got chickens, we've got a fab lemon tree, i've got some chutney made from last summer's tomatoes that we'll more than likely not use... and so to this weeks swap-meet we took along just that: eggs, lemons, chutney and some heirloom courgette seeds. we returned home with some silverbeet (both cut and plants) some radishes, some rosemary, 2 bottles of homebrew beer, 2 loaves of bread, some sunflower seedlings and some parsley. what a swap! our little blue eggs went down a treat! (we were even asked if we were likely to get any little blue chicks...) we swapped ideas and orders for next time- yoghurt, french bread, seedlings, more lemons and of course, more little blue eggs!

and so it's like this, little by little, that we work towards selfsufficiency. so we can't grow wheat, but we can swap our eggs for some bread.

all that's really left to do is to find someone in our community who grows chocolate!

xx
mama b

attention!

beware girls, this man will steal your heart

on the move

bokbok

if the rara republic was to have a dept of immigration it would have busied itself today stamping pieces of paper and issuing citizenships while the welcoming committee was arranging fanfare and the likes.

this morning the family expanded to include donna summers and the supremes: 4 lavender araucana chickens.

this breed of chicken are of south american origin and have lovely silvery plumes. their eggs, when they are ready, will be sky blue and apparently have little or no cholesterol.

but inside chickensville there was no welcoming committee. there was no fanfare, nor peace love and flowers, or any of the other means you might use to welcome your sisters. there was plain, outright, chicken warfare. oh yes, these lavender lovelies imported their fiery latin temperament.

actually, just one of them did. mrs boss.
or, donna.

their previous guardian told me it wouldn't take long to tell who was boss. and after a brief war and a set of negotiations (handing over of best perch, etc) cher (previous mrs boss) submitted.

pascal and i watched on, a little dismayed for our girls, wondering if we'd done the right thing.

as the girls faught it out cliches ran rich through my head, the girls were simply establishing the pecking order. later on in the evening cher was knocked off her perch. donna rules supreme, and hopefully, by sunset tomorrow a treaty will have been signed and we will be back to our unitednations omlettes by the weekend

xx
mama b

this time last year

From calix sur le pelouse

bannished to the beach!

there's recently been an outbreak of measles in our fair city. an outbreak comes about when there is no longer herd immunity... this is what they say. being as we don't consider ourselves to be cattle, we've taken a more natural approach to immunisation.
namely, swapping marmite sandwiches with a measlee at playcentre.
needless to say, we were 'banned', or excluded (if you prefer) from attending playcentre for a period of 14 days; sufficient time, so they say, for us to develop and get over measles. or not.
no worries. we've had plenty of other things to get on with!

nyum!

c meets some wallabies with granny

spring, in the republic

the head gardener, always busy....

and the garden; now all we've got to do is wait!