Maternity Ward - Maraekakaho Style

There I was chatting on the phone while sitting on my back steps and, through the garden trellis and the row of pines beyond, I could see a cow and what looked like a calf on the ground. I finished my call and went closer. Sure enough there on the other side of the wire fence was a newly born calf with its mother clicking it dry. Couldn't believe my eyes. And, funnily enough, I recalled hearing a very strange noise a few minutes prior to answering the phone. Being the country girl I am turning into I didn't take that much notice. I have learned that these cows, big brown ones, make really weird noises. But, in retrospect, it was mum in the throes of calf-birth.

Made me realize how capable animals are compared to use humans. She separated herself from the herd, under a shady tree, and went about the business of becoming a parent. I stood transfixed for some moments quietly reassuring mum that I wasn't going to come any closer. Mum was giving off low, protective grunts and the baby was desperately trying to stand up.

After some time on her own, with baby wobbling around trying to stand, the rest of the herd gathered around her. It was like the aunts visiting the maternity ward after word got around that the baby had arrived. Amongst the 'aunts' there was either a dad or an uncle. He came on over but he made a beeline for me. I checked out his size, his "package", his stare and the relatively frail fence between us and made a wise decision to back off. He was HUGE. I watched from inside the house and noticed that, once the calf looked like it was going to make it in the standing stakes, that herd moved away again.

With relief and sense of bravado I went back out again to watch the baby's progress. He finally got onto all four wobbly legs and then tried, in vain, to have a suckle. He had the theory down pat but the practice and sense of direction left a lot to be desired. You could not miss her udder - bursting it was. I could see and hear the calf suckling at her underbelly. He got an A for effort but, in the time I stood there, no cigar for success.

THE BEST......Just being there.

THE WORST.......No matter what species gives birth it is NOT a dignified experience for the mother. I continue to tell myself it's Nature but where was the midwife with the clean up gang?

I'M LEARNING.....when you get stared down from a boy cow take evasive action.

Leonard Cohen and State Highway 2

I know you are wondering what these two have in common. Well, for starters they are both icons. But, more importantly, one got me to the other.

I had tickets to the final Leonard Cohen concert in Wellington and found myself on a bit of a road trip with a girlfriend. It wasn't mean to be that - as far as I was concerned we were driving to Wellington to see the man himself in concert, and we were both really excited about that. Gold tickets, the whole box and dice.

But, unbeknown to me we went via State Highway 2. Now, for the country folk reading this that would make sense. But, remember I'm still a city chick when it comes to finding my way around the country and, coming from Auckland, there is only one national highway in N.Z. and that's State Highway 1. That was the only way I had been to Wellington from here in the past and that was my expectation this time round.

The original brewery

What a wonderful surprise I was in for - and my co-traveller for that matter. She had done this trip many a time but I was a 'virgin' and acted accordingly. First thrill - the Tui Brewery in Mangatainoka. You have to be a Kiwi to truly understand the iconic status of this place. One of the few independent breweries left and the favoured brew of the country lads. It's rumoured that there is a bevy of buxom women working at the Tui Brewery - well that's was the ads tell you. We stopped - I insisted! What a great place for a cold beer on a hot day. Had our photo taken with the billboard of buxom beauties (sorry no copy here because I don't want to ruin the myth) and had a cup of coffee. Yeah right!

Next 'oh my God' moment. Driving through Ekatahuna and the famous Ekatahuna pub. For the Aussies in the crowd that's like driving past the pub at Ettamogah. Blink and you miss it mind you.

One of many cute shops in Greytown

Onto other names on a map, Featherston (don't bother), Mt Bruce and Greytown. We didn't stop on the way down but we certainly did some damage on the way back. What a place to unwind, do some gorgeous retail therapy and then trip off to the divine wineries of Martinborough (famous for its Pinot Noir amongst other varieties). I can only describe Greytown as the rural version of Parnell or maybe Bowral in N.S.W. A date in February for a girl's weekend has already been decided.

And before you get into Wellington via The Hutt, you can give your stomach and eyes a thrill as you wind your way over the Rimutakas. Stunning but not for those with a weak stomach. Again, those early pioneers were definitely paid by the mile. You could envisage those TV commercials for performance luxury vehicles being filmed on this road. I would just want to make sure it wasn't on the day I was also on the road. Stunning though!

And so for Leonard - part two of this adventure. The man is 76 years old but he is like a very good wine and has got better and better with age. In my youth I couldn't listen to Leonard Cohen - made me want to cry and slit my wrists at the same time. But one or both of us has matured and his music and voice are amazing. Not only that but the group of musicians he surrounds himself are all masters in their own right. It was three hours of being transfixed and transported. Actually transfixed happened because the seats (Gold seats remember) were crap!!!!!! I had to sit at an odd angle all night to view the stage, which was close, and if the guy in front of me bopped his head one more time it was coming off!!!! I practised my best Buddhist thoughts and resisted the temptation to grab each side of his head in a vice-like grip after about the second song. I mean, he wasn't one of those clowns at the fair so why the grooving. You don't groove to Leonard Cohen, you breathe deeply and dance on the inside.

Anyway - great show and I am so thrilled to tick that off the bucket list. So, if you can't get to see Leonard try State Highway 2 from Hawke's Bay to Wellington via the Rimutakas, you won't be disappointed.

THE BEST................Have to say Greytown did eclipse Leonard. And, I can go back there.

THE WORST................Technology failing a carpark full of tired concert goers. Barrier arms wouldn't go up so we were slowly being asphyxiated until some bright spark drove into the carpark and a group of men bravely held up the barrier arm so that cars could leave.

I'M LEARNING..........this country gives you OMG moments when you least expect them.

Going Native

Before harvesting

My neighbour turned up on my doorstep last weekend - stanley knives and gloves in hand - to "prune" my flax bushes for me. Well actually, it was WITH me because I happened to mention that I needed to tame the front garden and she offered to help me with the flaxes as she has taken up flax weaving and had been cutting some of the flax for her use. A quick change from my pyjamas and I reported for "pruning" duty.

She did say there was no hurry as it was going to be a big job - little did I really understand what that actually meant. Before we started you could not  walk around the front garden area because of the size of the flax bushes. Before we started I thought I had three flax bushes. Before we started I had no idea how exhausted I would be at the end of the day. But, what a thoroughly satisfying experience.

Cutting and harvesting method

We Pakehas would say that we pruned the flaxes. In truth, we harvested the flax. And it's not about hacking back what you don't want. There is a methodical approach to the harvesting and a technique that protects the plant and enhances healthy growth. Flax leaves  grow in fan shapes - check out the next flax bush you come across. To harvest the flax you keep the central leaf and the leaves either side (baby with mother and father). All the other leaves on either side of these three are then cut off in a diagonal direction which leaves the three central leaves a strong support base for further growth. You methodically work your way through every fan, eventually reaching the core of the plant and working your way through to the other side. It's easy to know when you have finished and it is surprising how the flax bush doesn't look denuded but does look more majestic. For someone who is mathematically minded the logic of this activity really appealed to me. What didn't appeal was the time it took. SEVEN hours later we finished the FOUR flax bushes in the front garden and I did another one I have growing down the pathway. There are still three more to go - trouble is that this time ignorance was bliss. Not going to be the case next time.

After harvesting

My neighbour didn't stop there - she gathered up what she wanted, tied into a traditional flax bundle and stored it for future use. Meanwhile another angel that helps with my lawns took away TWO van loads of dead and harvested flax. I was truly lucky to have such wonderful helpers. This is the same flax bush after harvesting.

We both sat back - admired our handy work and had a well deserved glass on wine on the front deck and, for the first time since I have been here, I ran a bath and soaked the aching and exhausted body.

The story doesn't end there - two days later my neighbour turned up with containers that she had woven. In true Maori tradition the containers came with something in them. Just blew me away. This is a sample of the kind of work she does. I use the large one for my eggs and I am the envy of everyone who sees it.

Flax by Robyn, weaving by Louise.

THE BEST.......Finishing!

THE WORST.......Cockroaches, cockroaches and more cockroaches hiding out in the dank overgrown core of the plants. Certainly overcame my fear that day!

I'M LEARNING......When someone turns up on your doorstep armed with lots of utensils to help you, put aside the rest of the day and right off the rest of the weekend for post-activity exhaustion!!!!

Spectacular, Stunning, Simply Breathtaking

Often it takes a prod to venture into your backyard and, today, I had just such a prod. With a friend over from Australia I decided we should venture out into the bush and check out Shine Falls. A bloke in a pub told me of them about a month ago and it sounded rather special. Checked out how difficult the walk was and decided it was within the realm of our capability and interest. Even 'googled' the directions to make sure we were not going to get lost. Promptly left the directions at home mind you.

For the first time in my life I drove north past the Taupo turnover. I remembered that we were looking for a road on the right beginning with 'M'. Had a fair idea what the name was and knew I would know it when I saw it. We did find the road and it was on the corner where the shop was at Tutira just like the bloke in the pub said. About 20 minutes down that road, and onto gravel road, and we came to the parking area.

Tui feeding

A recent sign left by DOC staff told us that we would possibly see kereru and tui and that they were expecting their first kiwi hatching this week. The track had just been maintained so walking wasn't going to be a problem. We followed the signposts and commenced our trip which, according to the information board, was about an hour. The first part of the trek is across private farmland where we encountered a dead sheep - we knew it was dead and not napping because it hadn't moved by the time we came back. Called this part of the track "Dead Sheep Bend". Over the fence and we were into lowland bush area that is being regenerated with more native flora to entice native birds and animals back. There is also a comprehensive baiting programme to kill pests. Next little moment was 'Tui Glen'. There were plenty to see feeding in the kowhai but you had to be quick to get a photo of them. Path becomes a little narrower and you start to hear running water as you walk alongside a river.

Kiwi bush stream beauty

As the sound of running water became louder and louder we came across the first of many little mini rapids with dappled light giving a very soothing and secretive feel to the stream areas. We continued along the path, sometimes veering off to take photos of the stream and pools. We came across a well constructed metal bridge over the river where there were two options - the 3-4 hour walk and the 5 minute walk to Shine Falls. Great vantage point for photos but with a handrail on only one side it took me all my bravery to get this shot.

Shine Falls

After taking the brief 5 minute stroll we turned a corner and were confronted by a spectacular water display. Given the amount of rain we have had of late I am sure we saw these falls at their best. I was gob-smacked. Truly beautiful and truly breath-taking. And we had it all to ourselves. You just wanted to sit and watch nature do its thing. It was simply stunning. And these photos don't really do justice to the falls or the area. There's even a picnic table there to enjoy a meal and drink in celebration of what your are experiencing. I know it's not Victoria or Niagra Falls but the fact you could get so close and we had it all to ourselves. Judy talked about skinny dipping but even a seasoned Kiwi knows that it would freeze bits that are needed in good working order! I was in awe of nature and it's on our doorstep, it's accessible and it's New Zealand scenery at its best. Just Nike it friends!!!!!

Lake Tutira

On the way back to Napier we stopped at Lake Tutira - another idyllic location that is simply just there. You can't not stop as you drive past as it's pristine waters and clean, shaded picnic area beckon you to stop and take in the sights.


THE BEST......the surprise and grandeur of the falls as you turn the corner to view them.

THE WORST......not knowing how long it is going to take you to get there. I'm a bit of a control freak when it comes to knowing where I am going.

I'M LEARNING......information boards take a very conservative view about walking times. Either that or my friend and I are very fit. And I know that ain't the truth!

Welcome to the Neighbourhood

My friends had just moved to Ongaonga and, on the spur of the moment, I popped in to say hello. "Popped in" is a 30 minute drive - 50kms, but that's how it works in the country sometimes. It was a Friday night and they were off to the local pub for fish and chips. They had it on good authority that the fish and chips at the local were something of a treat.

As we walked into the pub there was the usual turn of the heads, it was obvious we weren't from around these parts (according to the gathered masses). This is a common phenomenon in small communities where the pub is the hub of the social activity. I am always reminded of the movie Deliverance when I encounter this group behaviour. Anyway, we nodded and one bloke did say hello which we acknowledged. There was a pretty good group in for a Friday night. We made our way to the bar and we all ordered beers. The girls made our way round to the servery and checked out the fish and chip menu. Pretty standard stuff and easy to make a choice. Meanwhile Chris, the husband, had introduced himself to the barmaid and mentioned that they had just moved to the area. He proceeded to introduce his wife and me to the barmaid and we all then took our beers to our chosen spot.

The local store, petrol station, post office

Hadn't been there more than 5 minutes and an older chap comes over, introduces himself and welcomes us to the community. He struck up a conversation, knew the house that my friends had just bought, knew some of the history, had been in the area more than 25 years and so on. He ended up having his pre-ordered meal with us and promising to get another local round to my friend's house to show them how to use the wood fired oven that takes pride of place in their dining room. She loves to cook and is very keen to go back to some country style cooking.

A few minutes after this gentleman introduced himself another, younger local came up. Heard we were new in town, welcomed us AGAIN and started up a conversation. He is relatively new in town, only been there 10 months but is a Hawkes Bay boy so he is considered a local. During our value packed fish and chip meal (which did live up to its reputation) the older bloke, let's call him Bill, pointed out other locals in the pub. There was an ambulance rush by, the local fire volunteers were signalled to help and Bill continued to talk about the area. Pretty typical night really.

There were no airs and graces in this pub and everyone was so friendly. I happened to walk into the male bathrooms, by mistake, and quickly retreated to find the locals pointing out the right door and assuring me that I wasn't the first person to have made that mistake. This particular pub was the centre of a nasty incident not all that long ago and it is a source of acute embarrassment for the township. From the outside you could be forgiven for thinking that, perhaps, it was a rough little meeting place but, on the inside, it is the heart of a very proud and close community.

The Museum - pub's across the road.

If you're travelling down State Highway 50 and feel a need for a cold beer. Drop in. You can't miss it. The pub is opposite the Historical Display Village and Museum. Say hello to Bill. I'm sure he'll be there - unless he's home baking his 'world famous' fruit cakes made with a secret recipe.

THE BEST.......probably should say the fish and chips but it was really the down to earth, no nonsense, friendliness of the locals.

THE WORST.....probably the wine selection. Don't ask for the wine list - there isn't one. Just look in the fridge and assume that the white wines are probably either a chardy or a savvy!

I'M LEARNING......never, ever judge a book (or a local pub) by its cover, and Deliverance was just a movie and is not alive and well in rural New Zealand.

Why You Don't Need To Leave Home

I have been fortunate to travel to many parts of this great world. But as I get older I appreciate more and more the beauty and adventure we have on our very own doorstep. A few months ago I, again, saw just how breathtaking and accessible to everyone our lovely little country is. I combined my love of travel and photography with a Photography Workshop in the Marlborough Sounds.

Those of you who know me well know that I don't 'camp'. When I go away I like to treat myself in as many ways as possible and this trip was certainly no exception. In fact it was the epitome of everything that I love about my travel experiences.

I was with a group of photography enthusiasts at a resort, Bay of Many Coves, in Arthurs Bay in the Queen Charlotte Sound. We had the resort to ourselves. But even more than the delights of the resort we had the most amazing trip out from Picton. The weather gods were on our side and we had blue skies, nil wind and calm seas. Have to admit it was a little on the 'brass monkey' side temperature wise. Our specially chartered launch took over an hour to make a 40 minute trip as we snapped a myriad of local Sounds wildlife - seals, birds and a very energetic group of dolphins that cavorted around our boat for over half an hour.

Waterside 'Media Base' and resort

At the resort we were greeted by a very welcoming team and shown to our rooms. OMG. Views to die for, bedroom and huge bathroom top notch and as warm as toast.  Our group had a 'media base' in the waterside cafe that usually serves local boaties and neighbours but was closed for our weekend. We had an amazing and entertaining tutor, Simon Woolf, who made sure we were immersed all weekend long. As if that wasn't exciting enough, the food and dining was simply sublime. Canapes and cocktails each night and, on the Saturday night, an eight course degustation meal with matching wines that could have graced any 5 star restaurant. Safe to say that the morning after  the photography wasn't quite as sharp as the previous days.

It was the unexpected that really sealed the surreal nature of the weekend. On Saturday the "mail boat" came out and had a hour to spare so took a few of us on a cruise around the Sound to see some of the beautiful, and highly inaccessible, holiday homes as well as the local cormorants and other wildlife. The following day a helicopter dropped off a glass crushing machine to the resort (most access has to be by water or air) and ended up taking some of us on 10 minute flights of the Marlborough Sounds. I saw Wellington to the North and the snow capped mountains to the South. I was speechless.

What was a three day weekend seemed more like a week. We all left enthused, exhausted and, for me, absolutely enthralled with this part of the world. How fortunate I was. And how fortunate you could also be. Just "Nike It" my friends. You won't be disappointed.

THE BEST......everything. The weather, the company, the food, the location, the experience.

THE WORST...okay, a couple of things. One, I had to come home. Two, as usual, where was the man to make the most of the romantic setting. One day!

I'M LEARNING......you don't have to have a passport to see the true wonders of the world. Check out your own doorstep.

My room was in the apartment in centre of photo!

Spring Is In The Air

If there is one sure sign that Spring is on its way - it's lambing season. While many lambs are now coming on the scene in the last remnants of winter the cutest ones are coming along now. What a truly rural adventure to be around for lambing. Well, hard to escape when you live on the doorstep of a farm and are surrounded by sheep, sheep and more sheep.

But, it wasn't here that I got to snap the little cuties in their very early days - it was on my sister's vineyard. Within three days two sets of twins were born and I wanted to capture them while the mothers were still close to their little ones and the lambs wandered around like proverbial sheep!!!!

Aren't they just the cutest little fellows. Apparently the first set are called Bo and Peep. Not PC to tell you the names of the second set as it really refers to their future.

What we all find amazing about any of these and other animals born onto the land is that they come out knowing EXACTLY what to do. They stand, drink, sleep and sit with no lengthy lessons from Mum. So what's with our kids. Years of training and we still don't get it right.

Let's not finish the astonishment with the innate understanding of the newborns. How about Mum? No screaming for help, no drugs, no 'supporters' - just the biggest poop she's ever done and look what came out. Apparently the ewes about to give birth quietly separate themselves from the others and wait for Nature to take her course. On the other hand, when it's out turn to bring new life into the country we all know that we are the ONLY person that has ever given birth and ever will - so, treat me with all the attention I deserve and don't mess with me because it could be dangerous.

THE BEST......beautiful babies, well behaved and doting mothers just getting on with it.

THE WORST.....not being able to get close enough to really capture the natural beauty. Let me tell you no-one messes with a new mother sheep.

I'M LEARNING.....that we could learn alot about no fuss birth and parenting from these supposed stupid animals. Only thing I don't want to learn is how to eat the placenta afterwards. Yukk - puts a whole new spin on sausages.

Olive Affair

I don't want to put fear into the heart of our leading olive producers but, be aware, I have decided to harvest and process my bounteous supply of olives. Well, maybe not bounteous - how about ample. Actually, even that could be disputed.

Anyway, when in the country and being the proud owner of 14 olive trees, it seems only right that you should do something with the fruit they bear. And, of course, I had been to Italy so that has to make me some kind of expert in olives - surely? I have a great friend in Australia who gave me his 'award winning' recipe for marinating olives. A good start but first things first - I had to harvest the little buggers. I nearly googled myself into extinction trying to find out when the right time was to harvest. I have four varieties of olives on my property - don't ask me the names - but all of them are small in size. By the time I figured out whether to pick them green or black or somewhere in between a few of the trees had passed their use-by date. The fruit was starting to wrinkle so I took the plunge and harvested what I had regardless of the colour.

Harvesting - ah yes!!! I had read lots of stories and spoken to a few people about how best to do this. Shake the trees with a large cloth underneath, rake the trees with a large cloth underneath, get a mechanical 'shaker' again with large cloth underneath. In the end it turned out to be "hand-raking" - a technique developed here by yours truly. For large cloth read old sheet. Being a cautious type I decided to limit myself to three largish trees. Truth be known I didn't get much fruit off the majority of the trees!

Got enough fruit for one bucket - by now some of the commercial growers amongst you will be breathing a sigh of relief. I'm all about quality not quantity I decided.

Okay - so the fruit is harvested, now onto the processing. It was back to the 'award' winning recipe. For two very boring hours I undertook quality control and slit each tiny graded olive from end to end and for seven days stright I had to change the water daily. That was a real task given my short term memory capability. Then it was into a brine solution. Off to Google again to find out how I make a brine solution of 25% salt and 75% water. One of them is a solid and the other liquid. Clearly the recipe was written by a man. Sorry to all my male followers out there. After a few days of science experiments I think I got the right equation and into the brine solution the fruit went for the next 10-12 weeks. Therein lies another challenge. Having something hanging around for that long. In this throw away society this was a new concept for me.

I have just finished bottling the babies according to the 'award winning' recipe. A taste test along the way didn't have gagging so I figured it was worthwhile going the next step. It's a further six weeks before they will, in theory, be ready for eating. If there are no further posts after October you'll know that the recipe failed dismally!!! In the meantime I am not sharing with friends or family because I don't have many of either left.

THE BEST......taking the photos of the harvest and the bottling. Perhaps I should stick to photography.

THE WORST.....scooping out the mould off the top of the bucket. According to the 'award winning' recipe this is normal. I think that's just to keep me going.

I'M LEARNING.....that I won't be a commercial threat after all - but, if this works, I may branch out into olive oil next season. Stayed tuned.

Oruawharo - A Hidden Gem And One Man's Passion

My youngest sister decided on a 'surprise' visit to Hawkes Bay last weekend. Given that it was her "significant" birthday coming up we couldn't really turn her away so we turned into her 'birthday weekend'. My other sister, the organiser amongst us, then went into overdrive a mystery day was planned for Saturday. Despite the weather not being Hawke's Bay finest it actually suited what turned out to be a truly lovely day.

Early in the morning we set off down Highway 50. Only my sister and her husband knew where we were going. Past Tikokino, Onga Onga and Takapau - we really had no idea where we were off to - I was holding my breath it wasn't Wellington!!!!!! A little way out of Takapau we turned into the driveway of Oruawharo Homestead. Despite the drizzly, grey and misty weather there was a magnificence about the entry and a true sense of history unfolding in front of you. We came upon the homestead - stately and commanding in the gardens, albeit that time and a lack of TLC has taken its toll on this beauty. As we went to the front door we were welcomed by the owner, Peter, who ushered us into the front lobby. That's when the gasps started. Here was a hidden gem that oozed a past life of grandeur and importance. The beautifully carved staircases and ceilings - the original wood panelwork and the fireplaces, scrim walls and windows that opened up as doors onto the expansive verandahs. We had 'high tea' in the ballroom and it was so easy to transport yourself back to an earlier time when the local gentry would grace the establishment for dances and social gatherings. Our hosts served homemade delights on cake stands and in china cups while giving us a potted history of Oruawharo. Peter and Diane bought the property in 2000 (Diane's 50th birthday present) and since then they both been lovingly and authentically restoring the buildings and gardens to their former glory. It is a love and passion that will keep them young for many years to come.

We spent over two hours at Oruawharo while Peter took us to the gardens, outbuildings and around the home itself. At each highlight it was obvious that this was a life project and no short-cuts were being taken in the restoration. Oruawharo hosts weddings, high teas and opera recitals. It's a great example of rural New Zealand historical architecture and it was easy to imagine yourself enjoying the delights of home cooking and a delicate Darjeeling tea served on the verandahs on a warm, sunny day. Find out more by visiting www.oruawharo.com.

The mystery tour didn't stop there! On the way back we stopped in at The Sawyers Arms at Tikokino. The only sign that this was another stop on the mystery tour was Organiser Sister's seal like clapping from the front seat as we approached the pub. Same thing happened as we nearing Oruawharo Homestead. It has got to be a genetic thing because our mother used to do the same when she was excited - and I did EXACTLY the same thing earlier in Perth when my birthday cake came out at the restaurant - my Facebook video is proof. Not something you really want to be proud of unless, of course, you are a seal.

Anyway, I digress. The Sawyers Arms has been restored by a local couple and the main bar is called Nippy's Bar - dedicated to the husband of the owner who was tragically shot last year before the pub restoration had finished. Despite this rather sad background the pub is a warm, welcoming stop for travellers and locals alike and we enjoyed a few bevvies there before heading home.

THE BEST.....the mystery tour.

THE WORST...the winding roads, especially after a few beers and sitting in the back seat. Didn't want to complain though - it wasn't my day. However VERY lucky that the journey wasn't any longer because somebody might have worn something unexpected.

I'M LEARNING.....hidden gems are everywhere in this great country. You just have to get out there and discover.

No Blogger Prizes Here

This is embarrassing! March was the last entry - what the hell happened to the last 5 months. It wasn't as if I haven't been doing anything. Let's call it 'writer's block' and thank goodness I am not relying on this for income - would have been lining up at WINZ months ago.

The last FIVE months have been varied and busy. We have gone from basking in the late summer sun to exploding with colour over autumn and now gritting our teeth through a particularly cold and wet winter for Hawke's Bay. Having not lived in NZ for a few years I now appreciate the need many Kiwis have to escape the winter chill and find some soothing sun. I was one of those temporary ex-pats this winter and took off to Perth to celebrate my birthday in warm and sunny climes. It was a wonderful week of relaxation, lots of laughs and a very indulgent lunch at Clairault Winery south of Perth near a town called Dunsborough. Warren (my brother), Colleen (his wife) and I went there for lunch. Three and a half hour drive for lunch. I tell you I was more than ready to get out the car when we finally reached our destination. Being a weekday and winter we virtually had the place to ourselves as we slowly devoured a sumptuous lunch and a wee glass of wine or two. Back in the car for the homeward journey via a breathtaking photography gallery in Dunsborough. Christian Fletcher Photography is both inspirational and artistically outstanding. Just makes you want to get out there and record the wonder around you. And then....back to the grey winter and reality bites!

THE BEST..........Vitamin D intake from sun

THE WORST........Waking up to another grey day and the knowledge that the fire, while warming, doesn't light itself

I'M LEARNING.......Kiwis might be flightless but we seriously need to fly away when that wintery chill works its way under your skin. Oh for the proximity of the South Pacific.

Anzac Day - Community Coming Together

I know it's been some time since Anzac Day but given the sacrifices these people made I reckon you can talk about it any time.

This year I went to our local Anzac Day commemoration at Maraekakaho. Thankfully it wasn't a dawn start, it was at the more civilized time of 9.30am which meant that I could get my Sunday coffee and paper in beforehand. The service was held in the local Community Hall which was bulging at the seams with families, young people, veterans and the more mature amongst us. I learned about the Landgirls - an association that started during WW2 where young women went to work on farms because the men were away at war. One of the few Landgirls left living in Hawke's Bay talked about her adventures and the trials they faced. Very enlightening. The whole congregation then took to the main road for a march to the cenotaph. We were led by a solider, dressed in period uniform, on horseback and the obligatory pipe band.

At the Cenotaph children and adults alike lay wreathes, posies and poppy badges while the Last Post played and we had our very own fly over - not quite the Skyhawks but very special anyway. Then it was back to the road and the slightly slower march back up to the Community Hall. In true country fashion a cup of tea and scones were laid on for all and it was a time of catching up with neighbours and, for the few Diggers that were there, reminiscing and telling tall tales.

This year was the largest turnout the community had seen on Anzac Day - I think that is testimony to the revitalization of this special commemoration around the country. Whatever the reason it was wonderful to be part of this community celebration and I look forward to a repeat performance next year.

THE BEST.....the amazing turnout from around the area.

THE WORST...the horse poops that kids had to skirt around on the march to the Cenotaph. Good idea not to follow to closely.

I'M LEARNING.... that the young people are really embracing their country's history.

Gym de Vine

When I lived in the city I shelled out significant dollars to belong to a gym. Like many other gym members it was more of a donation than a membership as the thought of hauling the body out of bed at some ungodly hour to sweat it out in a building with lots of strangers just didn't "spin my wheels". But, each year I made new promises and each year I started a programme somewhere with some great goal in mind. Don't get me wrong - I think gyms are great for keeping in shape but I have moved on from the concept of having to belong to an expensive club to get my exercise.

My gym is now the outdoors. Not just any outdoors - but vineyards. Together with a friend, sometines, we go walking in the vineyard that surrounds her property. I say sometimes because she has been a 'no-show' but that doesn't stop me and the dog. In fact, it is the highlight of Jack's day to know that the lead is coming out and I am putting on that ever familiar pair of training shoes and pants.

Two things I like about walking in the vineyard - there is very few people around and the scenery is changing over time. Of late you can feel the tension building in the air as we get closer to harvest. That, in itself, is another blog post. Our morning walk is around 5-6km each day, and with a small and lively terrier as a lead it is always at pace.

The past few months we have had a range of weather from densely foggy to outrageously hot for the early morning. The humid heat is not something the viticulturists like at this time of the year but, for me, it usually meant a few mushrooms on the back leg of the walk.

I recently went walking around the vineyard and came across a gas cylinder hanging from a chain on tripod. My head decided it was a delightfully rustic frost machine until it went off as I walked by one day. Of course it was a gas-gun that gives off a seriously loud bang to scare birds. Always a little slow on the uptake, I now keep a wary eye out for them. I mean what was I thinking - a frost machine in the middle of summer.

I am trying to get into a habit with the vineyard walks and I average around three a week. My aim is for four and I am not sure what will happen when winter approaches but have decided to cross that bridge when I come to it.

For now it's the vista, the casual chat with the vineyard manager and the lookout for rabbits that makes the daily 'workout' all worth it.

THE BEST...............as always the changing scenery on each walk.

THE WORST.............shoes soaked through to the socks from the early morning dew. Saves washing your feet I guess.

I'M LEARNING............that a gas cylinder hanging on a tripod is to be avoided at all costs.

February - It must be Blackberry time!

When I was younger it was always one of the delights of summer - blackberry picking. The essential tools were gumboots, a big pot and sunhat. And then it was off to the 'secret' location. Not really secret though because you had to get there quickly to get the best of the crop. It was family affair - Dad drove the boat to the 'secret' location at the lakes and then Mum and the kids trooped off into the blackberry laden undergrowth to pick and eat as much as we could. The result was always a blackberry pie that took on all challengers and pots and pots and pots of blackberry jam all sealed with waxed lids. The sweet. syrupy smell of blackberries filled the house for weeks.

Then in latter times the Councils and local government officials have seen it as a dereliction of duty if they don't eradicate every blackberry bush in New Zealand. Gone was that childhood delight. Well, almost.

Imagine my joy when, on one of my many dog-taming walks with Jack, I came across a relatively large blackberry patch that was easily accessible - the only obstacle in my way was an electric fence. Nothing rubber soled shoes wouldn't fix. I thought I was the happiest person in the world to find it - I completely forgot about my girlfriend Julie. She goes into a psychotic state at the mention of blackberry picking. It's actually a little scary to be around. She came to visit this weekend for the Mission Concert. I happened to mention that I had found a blackberry patch down the road and the weekend took on new meaning.

It was almost like an untreated obsession. We had to go NOW. We had to take picking gear - NOW. When would we be going? NOW? I was actually very worried for my well-being because I wasn't sure there would be anything of note given the weather we have had recently. As we neared the patch, she dressed in a white singlet and casual pants (not really 'de rigeur' blackberry clothing) I kept on talking down the prospects, talking about the weather, talking about anything to try and calm the mad-woman gleam in her eyes. Didn't deter her at all and - thank God - there were blackberries EVERYWHERE.

She was off. Little conversation - just squeals of joy every now and again. We gathered enough for a pie - a huge pie - and then it was a determined mission to get the requisite sweet pastry and cream. We were allowed to stop for a brief lunch at a winery and then it was onto baking and testing the product. Not satisfied that we hadn't stripped the patch, we were back for another session while the pie was cooking. All I can say is that it is good this is her addiction because given her commitment to this obsession she would excel at any other addiction.

The blackberries have been lovingly washed and prepared for their journey back to Auckland for the next pie.

She'll be back next year she tells me, not for Mission Weekend but for blackberries.

THE BEST.....the absolute relief at finding blackberries

THE WORST.....not being allowed to leave until we had more than enough blackberries for the entire village.

I'M LEARNING.....don't mess with an addict. Not even scratches, prickles and the odd shock from the electric fence could deter the frenzied picking.

Wine O Why! - No!!!!!

A highlight of the summer calendar in the Bay is Harvest Hawke's Bay. This is the annual celebration of Hawke's Bay's great wineries and cuisine. This year a change in venue and format. Rather than bussing punters around the various vineyards the major attraction was a single day out at Roy's Hill Reserve where wineries and food providors could entice us with their best. Pity someone didn't tell the weather gods!!!!

Hawke's Bay has been enduring unseasonal (according to the locals) rain for the past week - although it seems like FOREVER. And so, the day dawned grey, damp and completely dispiriting. But, we had bought our tickets and so we were committed. Besides that, just when we decided we would brave the elements the rain passed and the sun came out. And stayed out for the rest of the day.

If you weren't interested in the latest vintages, quite frankly I don't know why you were there then, there was a stunning view from this redeveloped dump site across the Heretaunga Plains and the very fertile grape growing area known as Gimblett Gravels. You certainly weren't in doubt that Hawke's Bay is a predominant wine area when you saw the vast tracts of grapes encircling the venue.

Like pilgrims we all traipsed up the hillside - blankets, seats, umbrellas and tasting glasses in hand. Clearly the organisers knew that, as the day worn on, locating people and places would be more difficult for many of us and so all the winery tents were in alphabetical order. Phew! The public area was encircled by the winery stands and a Farmers Market operated in one corner of the site - a little out of the way for my liking. Port-a-loos were on hand but a little disproportionately spread out so there was always a queue at the nearest block. Made for lots of toilet humour as the day wore on however.

Music was provided by local and national artists. When we arrived a great local band, The Duke, was hammering out some great cover numbers. WE came across their local supporters who had been there since 9.30am. Wasn't even lunchtime and I doubt those guys would remember whether they ate or not!!!! Nairobi Trio moved throughout the crowd while entertaining and then a group of well known NZ female singers, collectively known as The Lady Killers, took to the stage for the remainder of the afternoon.

Did we taste wine? Well sort of. As the sun came out so did the humidity - and it was HOT. You just had to keep cool and for most of our group that meant a continuous supply of Rose. We did try several wineries but there was always only one lone courier sent for the next "tasting". I did attempt to get around some of the tents but the crowds were pretty consistent and I really only wanted rose anyway. So - a lot of sitting in one spot, crowd watching, music listening and slowly losing the urge to do anything. Great day.

THE BEST.....Hawk's Ridge over Clearview Rose - just by a nose.

THE WORST.....the music. Honestly, talk about late-in-the-day dirges. What happened to rock and roll and stamping your feet. Very disappointing.

I'M LEARNING....actually I'm not learning. I was so glad to have an umbrella to help me walk back down to the car. Can't really remember the trip but apparently I was "crabbing" my way down the hill. At least I didn't fall over. Not that I remember anyway.

Quintessential Kiwi Break

It might be my generation or it just could be the stuff of urban myths BUT I reckon I had the quintessential Kiwi break over Christmas. Your garden variety Kiwi will always talk about going to "the bach" - or in the South Island, for reasons only known to themselves it is the "crib". Anyway - it's your family holiday place. Some of us are lucky to own them and the rest of us either buddy up those that do own them or rent them from families that are lucky enough to own them.

In recent times some of these 'baches' have taken on new meaning. For some strange reason people want to replicate their everyday life at the bach so you have monuments to man full of the latest gadgets, the imported kitchens, the high grade finishes - so pretentious that relaxing would be the last thing on my mind in these monliths. People often have illusions of grandeur about their holiday places but not so the wonderful bach I stayed at this Christmas.

I stayed with friends at their place in Taupo that was so far removed from the 'look-at-me' palaces it was sheer joy to stay there. I was reminded of our first family bach - a renovated garage - loving built by my father and his friends over many weekends of work, fishing, drinking and reminiscing. As a family we had some wonderful times in our bach - we did upgrade to a more swanky place that my mother insisted we call the 'cottage'. But to us - it was the bach.

And so was this place at Taupo. Three bedrooms - two original and one add-on - one small kitchen area and an overused bathroom and toilet. Interior painting not quite finished yet (and may never be!) It was a holiday home for up to 20 people over the Christmas break and it coped admirably. No fear of upsetting the imported finishes here. It was decided that the only carpeted area in the 'living room' was beyond its use, so off to the dump it went. Only to be replaced by another newer piece of carpet found at the dump and lovingly laid by father and son one afternoon. There was the hole in the cladding from some over-exuberant hammock use that was repaired with little fuss apart from some choice words for the culprit. On one wall in the living area were the height marks of the various children, cousins and visitors over the years. The yard was dotted with boats, bikes, dinghies, water toys and washing. There was the odd tent erected here and there to cope with the overload.

The small bach was always full of comings and goings. Kids lazing around, parents complaining that the kids never did anything and Grandad quietly working away in the background cleaning up after everyone. Some went fishing, some went swimming, others sat on the deck and whiled away the hours with drink in hand. People dropped in, some went for walks and others went to do the never-ending food shopping. And this chaos seemed to work. No-one went missing, no major upheavals and lots of laughing.

Mealtimes were a collaborative affair - mostly among the adults - it just seemed to happen. And then there was sitting around the fire at night. A collection of chairs and boxes to sit on, three generations 'chewing the fat' and a plastic bag of pistachios religiously doing the rounds.

That was a quintessential Kiwi break in my dictionary and I am so glad I got to share it. Memories of my childhood came flooding back and I could see that the kids in the current generation would have the same memories as time went by. Thanks Di and family.

THE BEST.......worshipping at the altar of Kiwiana.

THE WORST......a little apprehensive having only one toilet/bathroom combined to share with 13 other people when you have a bladder the size of a peanut!

I AM LEARNING......that the quintessential Kiwi experience is still out there.