We have some plum blossoms!

This is the Greengage Plum that struggled through last year after being relocated.

The thought of some greengage plums makes me want to swing like a monkey from a tree!

That reminds me of trip we made from Sydney to Mullaway Beach when we were little to visit our Nan.

I would have been about 5 years old. We’d been in Sydney since I was two when our parents separated. But now we had a new member of the family, our step father, and the decision had been made that we would move back to the mountain.

In preparation, a new purchase, a short wheel base ex Army, khaki, soft top Landrover.

A visit to Nan was planned (6hrs drive north from Sydney), an opportunity for mum and us kids to take the new truck for a joy ride!

Those of you who are familiar with soft top Landrovers will know that the canvas canopy fastens to the front cab and fits over two metal frames. At the back there is a canvas flap that you can roll up, like a tent door. That day it was a beautiful sunny warm (hot) day, we had it rolled up and we had the perfect view of the road left behind, massive majestic eucalyptus trees one minute huge in our peripheral and the next minute tiny in the distance and blink, gone.

We were on top of the world. And what do you want to do when you’re on top of the world?  Swing like a monkey!

Which is exactly what my little three year old sister did. She started to swing on the middle metal frame, we all thought it was very funny, totally oblivious to the danger.

Mum must have looked back to see what was making us laugh. Can you imagine the horror she must have felt? Her little baby swinging with nothing between her and the open road disappearing behind us at about 60 miles an hour! If her little fingers were to slip and let go?? The horror was felt by all of us when we realised the danger.

On the side of the road mum unrolled the canvas flap and fastened it tightly closed. Locked in (safe and sound) a hot canvas canopy. What was that smell? Army? Dirt & sweat? Or just the old musty smell of aged canvas? Gone was our view, gone was the swirling fresh air. We were pleased to arrive at Nan’s.

I’m not sure whose idea it was but Nan had some shark netting in the shed, Mum secured it to the back of the Landrover. We got our fresh air and (slightly hindered) view back!

That aqua green thick nylon shark netting remained on that Landrover for all the years she drove us around, keeping us safe. She eventually got replaced by another ex army Landrover, this one long wheel base and hard top. No metal bars to swing from, but even if there was, we’d learnt our lesson.

Here in Tiny Garden we don’t have any trees big enough for an adult (or child) to swing from, but we have some plum blossoms! Now we just need the bees to do their magic 🌱

Have a wonderful day!

Is it possible that the fastest route to happiness is creativity?

Is it possible that when we’re feeling frustrated it’s because our creativity is being squeezed or restricted in some way?

I know the joy creativity gives me, both my own and others.

Watching and listening to my daughter planning and creating a new fairy garden.

Creatively solving a problem. Even those problems on spreadsheets!

A beautiful photo.

Posting here on Tiny Garden 🌱

A chef’s creation that awakens taste buds long forgotten, a movie that makes you belly laugh, written words that paint the picture so clearly you’re there, feeling the fear, hurt, anger, disappointment, a water colour painting that transports you to the country road where you can hear the cows bellowing from the far paddock, feel the coolness of the late afternoon and smell the smoke from the farm house…

Spring is here! 🌱

Have a wonderful day!

Lots of talk about the woods on the weekend.

Into the Woods, the musical.

Out of the Woods, Taylor Swift.

What does ‘out of the woods’ mean?

I tired to answer, relationships, bumps, troughs…

…but the important thing is to come out of the woods together…

…and to learn from the woods…

Did you make it out of the woods with…?

No, we didn’t make it out together.

What about us?

Yes! We go in and out of the woods together all the time! That’s what makes us such a good team.

Quiet now.

Content. Me too.

Grateful for everything the woods have taught me.

Have a wonderful day!

A rainy Wellington day.

Drenched garden.

Reminds me of our new favourite movie, Singin’ in the Rain.

Just a sprinkle of rain…singin’…

…and dancin’ in the rain, images of my daughter dancing, pretending to tap, and singing.

Gene Kelly has inspired my little girl, I think she’ll take up tap next year 🌱

To look at, Gene reminds me of my father, the rolled up long sleeved shirts, slacks, his dark hair and boyish handsome looks, the cheeky sparkle in his eye…

Isn’t it curious that sometimes all it takes is flicker of recognition to pierce through into locked away memories, causing them to leak and sting. Ouch, why were things the way they were? Quick, lock them up again.

The past is past. Today is today, and today it’s raining!

Singin’ and dancin’ in the rain.

What a glorious feelin’…

I’m laughing at clouds.

The sun’s in my heart.

Come on with the rain…

I’ve a smile on my face.

Just singin’…

Singin’ in the rain…

Dancin’ in the rain…

I’m happy again.

I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain!

With joy in my heart.

I’m singin’ and dancin’ in the rain.

The last remnants of autumn.

Our Golden Delicious apple tree.

Autumn and rain. Favourites.

Have a wonderful day!

(This post is dedicated our friend Mark, we hope you’re having a wonderful time in the Big Apple!)

I started to write this about a month ago, our brassica’s have grown since then…

Our young brassicas.

I love their centres.

Young fresh leaves, protected by the older leaves.

Baby leaves protected by toddler leaves, protected by teenage leaves, sheltered safe in the arms of their parents.

Surviving a New Zealand winter.

My nine year old daughter wrote a shopping list, a menu and cooked a three course meal tonight. She set the table, waited, tidied everything away and washed the dishes!

Yum 🌱

Our first lemons!

Have a wonderful day!

We had a wild storm last night, rain and 100km/hr icy winds from the southern alps.

Disjointed sleep.

Scary dreams, on the front line, in a forest on a steep slope, tall dense grasses, violent sounds, guns, explosions, thuds, crackling, whispering stealth through the grass, silent breath, afraid.

Unarmed, hiding, until my spot came under fire, ducked, ran and made terrifying leaps down the slope, pause, check, I’m okay, scramble for cover. Over and over.

Every return from broken sleep, I’d find myself right back there, trying to survive.

Finally the familiar tune of my alarm called me safe into my chilly bedroom.

Morning bought icy cold sun.

We were surprised to see our young celery survived 🌱

After the storm, driving to work, first glimpse of the water, framed by the pohutukawa trees at the end of the road, was shimmering gold from the morning sun.

Out from beneath the pohutukawa trees to the shoreline, huge God rays filled the sky, a freight ship vivid blue in the light. The size of the clouds and the expansive God rays made the boat appear huge and close.

A silver ribbon of light glistened along the coastline on the other side of the bay.

High tide, no pebbly beach, just water lapping the road. Evidence of the waves lapping over the road during the night, pools of water, debris and sand. Scary for the houses on the beach front to have the waves so close to their front door, grateful that our cottage is nestled safe within the village.

Always sad to turn away from the water, final glimpse back at the rays, the glistening silver ribbon, the golden pathway to the sun. Focus turned to work, up over the hill.

Winter is here?

Our most recent harvest 🌱

Have a wonderful day!

We inherited these flowers.

They came with the little cottage.

Ours since 2004.

I remember when I first saw this little house.

I knew immediately I wanted it to buy it.

I called the agent that very afternoon and she popped over for a cup of tea to do the paperwork.

I had stepped off the plane just three weeks before.

When it became mine, I picked up the keys, drove over after work, it was dark, it was empty, it was cold, I was alone in NZ, I sat on the carpet in the living room and cried.

Big tears.

Just a couple of days ago a dear friend was telling me about her mothers idea about our book, the idea is that our past is written on the pages already turned, and what has been written can’t be changed, but every fresh page turned is blank, it’s yours to write on, yours to write anything.

Anything.

But that night, the first night in my new little cottage, in a brand new country, I was too busy re-reading pages that had long been written and couldn’t be changed.

I couldn’t see the blank page in front of me. A page that, even as I was sobbing my heart out, was being written. All those heartaches from the past were articulating themselves as hopes and dreams for the future. And those hopes and dreams filling this little cottage with every tear.

And over the years, one by one those hopes and dreams have come true.

Love. My greatest love, my beautiful daughter, joined me in 2008.

Strength. It took me three long months in 2005 to paint the exterior of this little house, one wall at a time, I scraped off ancient flaking paint (probably lead), filled holes, sanded, coated rusty nails, puttied windows, washed and painted. Mr Miyagi (The Karate Kid, 1984), was right, the focus, the repetition, the meditation, the challenge, the achievement of painting a house made me strong, both physically and mentally.

He he, I remember one day I was up the scaffolding with the sander and a courier appeared, delivering a parcel to my neighbour. Being on my own, there was no one to take photos of me working, blushing to my toes I asked the courier if he would be kind enough to take a photo of me. He happily took my camera and I went back to work with the sander. He took some great photos.

As he headed off he said something about hoping more parcels needed delivering around here.

That put a smile on my face and I swear the sander took the layers of ancient paint off with less effort that afternoon.

Calm & peace. Our beloved garden, a perpetual work in progress.

Giggles and laughter. Tripled since my daughters arrival, January 6, 2008. Best day ever!

He he, I like to think of every giggle as a little shiny wriggling transparent string of energy (like a happy wriggly worm, but see through and glittering and in constant motion) filling nooks and crannies of our little cottage. Finding their way into and filling the wall cavities, the best insulation a house could ever have!

Our little cottage is old, built 1910. Only 60 years after the first settlers arrived in Wellington. I think it was built for the nearby military camp (which has now disappeared and been replaced by a school), for a soldier and his family. It was a simple square four roomed house, no fancy features, just standard sash windows and two fireplaces. Built strong with beautiful native hard wood timber. Still standing firm through all the years of gale force winds and earthquakes.

The years have bought additions and modifications.

It’s still petite, perfect for us.

Friends. The love we have been graced with from friends found here in Wellington defies words. It fills our hearts and is the sparkle that lives in our eyes.

Our little cottage.

Have a wonderful day!

Our cucumbers are taking their time.

A meandering pace, one where you get to take in the little things, enjoy the journey.

My pace is anything but meandering. My automatic internal drive is to get to the destination (the job done) as quickly, on time, as well as possible.

My daughter, she takes her time, ponders, gets lost in thought, gets distracted, notices the detail, remembers the little things and wants to talk about them…in our quiet moments when I’m there with her? That is joy!

On a bush walk with a friend a while ago, I was doing my usual, targeting the destination with fire in my feet. I believe I was seeing everything and noticing the little things, but if I’m honest, I’m sure everything was being captured with motion blur.

My friend said gently, “slow down, what’s the hurry?”

My logical sense agrees, and wishes my instinctual self could auto re-program for those times.

Learnt behaviour or innate?

Perhaps it’s because of the mountain, the quicker I walked, the quicker the trek home would be over, or maybe it’s the pace of the film industry that has put blasters on my heels, or maybe being the sole person responsible for my daughter, trying to fit everything into the day.

I was at the supermarket with a friend recently and I was in my usual zone, heightened awareness/energy, focused on the destination. But why? It was the weekend, we were heading to a friends house for dinner!

I notice it’s only when there is a job to be done or a destination to reach.

I’m grateful my friends have bought it to my attention.

Something for me to work on! (I’ll have to start a list):

• To consciously adjust my pace depending on my destination or job at hand.

Yesterday’s harvest, two apples! 🌱

Have a wonderful day!

It’s raining.

The top of NZ is flooding.

Not where we are, thank goodness, no swollen rivers, or scary currents with unknown debris lurking under dirty churned up water, no roads hidden under brown water with unseen obstacles.

Here we have gentle comforting rain, a cool freshness.

I know first hand the fierceness of flood water, indiscriminate, powerful, unforgiving.

On the mountain we had two creeks to cross to get home, the big creek and the little creek, often they would flood.

One evening, when we were young children, we returned home, on the cusp of darkness, to find the big creek swollen and raging.

Our family car was an ex army long wheel base Landrover. Perfect for contending with the pot holed gravel roads, rocky uneven creek crossings, rough, often soggy, tracks, climbing the long slippery steep inclines to our house…and forging creeks turned into turbulent powerful churning rivers?

The back of the Landrover made cosy for the children. The cold, standard issue, army metal seats covered with a panel of wood and a foam mattress topped with cosy sheepskins, blankets and pillows.

Our step father put his foot on the brake, we did too when the headlights revealed our big creek, no longer recognisable, swollen up to the trees, dirty brown, branches and other debris speeding by, the powerful current flattening everything in its path.

Home on the other side.

If we didn’t need to cross it, this post would read differently, to me there is something fascinating and hypnotising about flood water, wild and fierce! Captivating.

I recall times when we were flooded in I’d don a rain jacket and gumboots and wander down the track to the creeks. Safely observing. I love. But crossing?

Let me take you back to that night.

Hushed tones in the front seats undiscernable over the roar of the charging water.

Us children, the four of us, peered from amongst the blankets and sheepskins. It’s too high, it will go over the bonnet. Eyes bright.

Our step father, wd40 and hessian bag in hand, opened the bonnet, his head disappeared behind it, as did the fierce churning water, momentary relief like in a scary part of a movie when you cover your eyes, bang, the bonnet back in place, the raging river still there. Higher? Angrier?

Wd40 applied and hessian bag in place our step father slid back into the drivers seat.

An exchanged look in the front seat.

Not a whisper of air released from a single lung in that car.

Rev, rev, forward into the raging river, steady and firm, the water pushed against us and rushed over the bonnet. Eyes wide. Ploughing through, moving forward, the water wanting to push us sideways but strong arms keep us directed toward the distant track on the other side.

Suddenly the vehicle stopped, the engine dead.

Nobody spoke. We could feel the vehicle being pushed sideways. We were in the middle, the fiercest, strongest part, the water seemed angrier at having this new obstacle In its way, determined to go through us, thudding angrily at the drivers side window.

Nobody moved, nobody breathed.

Our step father pushed the ignition button. It started!!! Can you believe it? A miracle? Careful on the accelerator, we moved forward out of the main current, the water happy to see us get out of the way, roared past. An eternity later (seconds) we reached the track on the other side.

Six people, one collective breath, like the car was a giant animal, safe now from a predator.

Do I remember my bed being especially cosy, safe and warm that night?

Have a wonderful day!

The wind is back. It’s swirling violently out there but today our little cottage feels protected. A force field? Safe in a solid bubble, firm feet on the ground.

The temperature has dropped as well.

We have the fire going.

There is a little rain, I can hear it spitting at the windows.

It’s still dark outside, the light will bring us news of how our garden has fared.

Let me show you what we found in our garden on the weekend.

Doesn’t she look like a swan?

Miniature fresh leaves.

Isn’t there something adorable about little things?

Fresh, bright, perfect, beautiful…

Weathering comes with age.

A childhood lived, where we, as parents, aim to provide security and plant the seed of love and acceptance. Nurture and guide. With the goal of sending happy, healthy, strong, confident, brave people into the world.

A childhood enjoyed, to be a kid, no cares or worries, safe, empowered within safe boundaries, surrounded by people who love and want the best for them, their champions. Where self worth founds and grows.

It’s a privilege to be a parent.

I’m grateful to have been entrusted with the responsibility.

The wind has gone quiet.

Just a momentary lull, I can hear the wave of a new swinging gust approaching. There is a comfort in the way the wind is swirling around us today.

Have a wonderful day!

Monday’s harvest 🌱

Favourite quote from my daughter this morning, “I’m going to put some earrings on to give me a little bit of sparkle!”.

Sparkle, we love sparkle, reminds me of a time when my daughter was really little and we were driving toward the Wellington harbour on an crystal blue day with the sun brilliant on the water. I said “look at the sparkling water”, my daughter replied “someone dropped their glitter”.

Isn’t it wonderful that laughter that lives in our memories can put a sparkle in your eye today.