Autumn Fading

Two rainy, stormy weeks have ended a run of beautiful warm days. The ground is heavy and soaked through, we venture out only to feed animals and get more firewood now. The lawn sinks, feet disappearing ankle deep in mud as you step on it. My beautiful cosmos that were so vibrant little more than a week ago have faded into brown slush, drooping heavily and rotting at the roots. The first dusting of snow fell crisp and fresh, polishing the tips of the Alps with a bright and clean whiteness two nights ago. The dragonflies are gone and the cicadas and crickets have fallen silent. Day after day of torrential rain are punctuated by thunderstorms; lightning tears through the sky over and over, thunder echoes off the mountains and shakes the house, seemingly stuck amongst the towering Alps it moves slowly and can last for days.

This week marks Phineas' second birthday, and Zoe's ninth. Phineas, being first, is excitedly planning his...he wants a Christmas tree, a rainbow cake and a bunny. There is something so bittersweet about your last little baby growing so independent and capable. He is all we hoped for; free spirited, packed full of passion for life, loving, carefree and wild, but knowing that we are nearing the very end of our baby days forever is sobering with a sting. We will, however, celebrate thoroughly on Sunday; he will have his Christmas tree, I will make him his rainbow cake, and if the weather gods are kind, we will have a bonfire into the night. Zoe is getting older, and all she wants is to go to "the city" and buy her own presents, so in June we have booked a hotel in Christchurch and she can buy all the clothes and music her nine year old heart desires!

It is late now, the sky is inky black, not a star to be seen out the windows. The three boys' snoring has blended into a comforting chorus and the house is toasty warm, the smell of smoldering totara and freshly baked bread bring such a cosy feel. The rain has let up for a moment and everything is still and calm. I intend to write more frequently, but then I do say that with every post and have made no improvement on seasonal updates. Goodnight world and goodbye autumn.

Autumn again

Here we are again, the summer has ended and autumn is upon us. Summer seemed to end overnight, the first day of March we awoke to a new chill in the air and thick fog from the alps to the coast. It was most definitely a fire sort of morning, and I was filled with smug satisfaction as I carted in a load of my perfectly dried wood; the same wood Jeremy assured me wouldn't need to be cut til March!

The end of summer also brought with it the South Westland A&P show, and all three children spent the week working on their entries; busily harvesting berries, icing cakes, plucking all the flowers from my garden for their sandsaucers, baking and constructing various bits and pieces. It was lovely to see them so supportive of each others efforts and so thoroughly industrious! They helped at every opportunity; setting up tents at the show grounds, dragging last years wood away and even helping sell sausages on the day. We talked about how nice it was to be part of the community and how it didn't matter whether they won prizes or not, it was just huge fun to join in with everyone else and be a part of it all. This was all very well and good until they all started winning prizes, and I have to admit, I was as proud as they were to see their stack of prize cards!

The days are becoming shorter and the mornings and evenings colder, so we are making the most of the still temperate days, roaming every day, and  this week alone we have walked Lake Wombat, the Tatare Tunnels, The Callery/Waiho circuit, Whataroa Wetlands, and all over  Franz. With the change of temperature has come a natural change of diet, and we are squirreling away all the goodies we will need to stave off winter bugs and to warm chilly days, more on that in my next post!

High Summer

Summer is at its hottest. The Matainui has dried up. All along the dusty road huge dragonflies lie lifeless, their cycles complete. Up the valley road the blackberries are ripening, growing fat and sweet in the heat of the long days. Days are spent roaming, the children disappearing into the tangles of wild blackberry bushes, emerging hours later with buckets overflowing. It is barefoot season, shoes have long since been forgotten in the cloak room. Even the snow on the Alps has receded so you can only catch the tiniest glimpses from the house. We are making wishes on first stars and dandelion wish fairies, wishing that the summer never ends.

Around home

Writing is not a talent I possess. I have wanted to write about home for months, but I am a little apprehensive, I'm certain I can't do it justice, but will attempt to paint you a picture. Our wee house is old, so old that the kitchen and bathroom are add ons, it was built without a bathroom and the kitchen was little more than a coal range. Bits and pieces have been added on, little touches of every decade since it was built add to its character. None of the doors have handles, and most can't even be closed. At the front of the house is the kitchen. Its north facing windows look out over Mount Hercules, the foothills of the Southern Alps and up the Whataroa Valley. From the west we look over the farm towards Whataroa and the distant Okarito Lagoon. Out the back of the house is an old covered veranda, surrounded by ancient hydrangea bushes and my wee garden. The house is set back in the alpine foothills and the hills rise sharply from the backyard, the first row of the beautiful Southern Alps. A row of old macrocarpas shelter the veranda and the house paddocks, they are home to a shy morepork who we have only seen once despite hearing him call most nights as we lie in bed. The hills behind are thick with west coast rainforest, they ring with the songs of the cicadas and tui all day and with the calls of the kiwi and kea all night. A row of moreporks echo up the valley on clear nights, each one taking its turn,  fading into the distance. Amongst the rainforest are hidden the clearest, icy fresh pools, and ribbons of tiny streams merging into waterfalls that flow into the Matainui which runs down the valley floor, past the house and towards Whataroa below us. Behind the line of Alps above us is a mass of glaciers, the rugged and rocky tops covered in snow and ice year round. They rise so sharply that weather moving in from the Tasman sea hits their faces and can move no further east, bombarding us with around six metres of rain a year. Rivers rise and fall rapidly, an opalescent blue from the glaciers the begin in. It is still and quiet, the only sounds of civilisation are the occasional sounds from the milking shed when the wind blows in the right direction or the odd helicopter picking its way up the valley to the glaciers or towards the Whataroa Valley and Mount Cook. The house paddocks are full of hydrangeas, cabbage trees and kowhai, the home of 11 chubby wood pigeons. Alex's chickens roam and forage in the long grass all day, following  Buttercup the calf and Lambington the lamb as the stir up insects in their grazing. This is paradise.

Roaming The Coast

This will not be a long post. I am still working on a post explaining how the Rotherham Chapter ended and how we ended up following our dreams all the way down the West Coast.  For now, here are a few moments from our journey; from the Punakaiki pancake rocks, to the Oparara Basin as far north as the road goes, to the incredible Denniston Plateau high in the clouds with what remains of the mind blowing incline.

The Rotherham Chapter Draws To a Close

Its hard to believe that my last post was about the first calves arriving,  and now here we are, calving season over! What a long season it has been! 1100 calves, all fed and out in the paddocks now, after endless weeks of battling, feeding, moving, early mornings,  late nights and countless freezing cold mornings!  Phineas has adored every minute of it, perched on my back, toes pointed out to try to kick calves or to sneak into their milk! He loved counting them, pointing to each one counting "two, two, two" round each mob of 45! Of course,  after counting them all,  he had to pat every single one, every single day! Alex too loved tagging along and didn't miss a day. He delighted in adopting all the slow feeders, reassuring every one that I tube fed or tagged, cuddling them and telling them they would be alright! He is an expert at coaxing the stubborn newbies onto feeders, mothering them the whole time. Zoe on the other hand, had no time for the farm life,  and avoids it at all costs.

In the midst of the calving chaos, we decided, after all our "never, ever, no thanks" talk, that we would get married,  so one early spring day we eloped to Kaikoura. It was a beautiful,  warm day and after what must have been the shortest service in history we walked the beach, climbed barefoot through the rocks and watched the waves roll in, a tsunami warning freshly canceled after a huge earthquake of the coast of South America. It was a perfect day, simple and sweet and we ended it with a walk to the old Port Robinson lighthouse where we watched the sun setting over the cliffs of Manuka Bay. As our time as an unmarried couple ends, so too does our time in Rotherham, calving is over and new adventures are calling....

Winter: The halfway point

Wednesday morning was unusually warm so I thought I'd take Nugget for an early run. At ten to seven I was suprised to find the sky was light already! Finally, a sign that we are on the downhill side of winter, days are getting longer! It has been a chilly winter of grey skies and muddy ground,  broken by the occasional peak of sunshine or dump of crisp snow. It seems such a long time since we have felt warm and dry and quite honestly, it has been a dreary few weeks. The arrival of the first two calves this week has been another sign that spring is on its way, and the green tips of daffodils popping up are exciting beyond words!

A Rotherham winter is a completely different creature to a Marlborough winter; where a -8 morning was cold in Marlborough,  we have just had two weeks of temperatures from -12 down to almost -20! Marlborough tends to have beautiful, mild, sunny days and we are missing those terribly with day after day of grey skies and frosts that never melt. But to every down there is an up, and the fine days here are stunning.  The sun glistening on the ring of snow covered mountains surrounding us is breathtaking.  From Mt Lyford, towards Hanmer, beyond Culverden and circling back up the Hurunui River towards Waiau, there is nothing more beautiful than the burning red sunrises and sunsets echoing off the snowy ranges that surround us.

The children are planning for spring and summer already, and Alex has weeded all the back gardens, digging out all the rocks for a fire pit to cook over! Phineas has discovered the joys of feeding scraps to the waxeyes and loves watching them scoff everything he throws for them. He has also discovered the calves and loves trying to touch their spongy wet noses! So, from the halfway point, we are all healthy and happy and all eagerly awaiting the real arrival of spring and warm days!