The new bag

He who does not want to be named bought a new bag.  It had loads of pockets as he likes to carry a lot of stuff.  He laid out everything to go into the bag on the table.
"Oh" I said,  "now you have to put everything into categories"
" oh yes categories"
He then looked at all the pockets and chose one. Into it went his hearing aids, his glasses, and his asthma puffer.
"What category is that?" I asked, "is it health? "
"No" he said,  "old age"

Sox kennel finally demolishef

Spring shots

Lola playing with Ed and a sheet. She likes to ride on the sheet and be pulled along.

Bluebells and clivia looking lovely

First begonia flower

Azalea

9th Sept

10th Sept

Cheery trees starting to bloom 14th Sept

Hedges trimmer, kaka beak first blossom

15th August 2013

Today the hedges trimmer came and cut back our shelter trees. Suddenly the paddocks have more light but we have a big mess to clean up

Hedges trimmer cutting the shelter trees

Burning the offcuts. We didn't get the trees done this year so there was a lot to clear away

Mini volcano - no just a small bonfire

Kaka beak in flower

First almond tree blossom of the season

Something Malevolent lives at the bottom of my garden

Something Malevolent lives at the bottom of my garden

I thread my way through the nikau palms and tree ferns forming the boundary and emerge into the interior. Kihikihi crawls over the forest floor and its sword-like sandpaper-covered leaves grab my clothes and impede my progress, it delights in finding a patch of bare skin and drawing droplets of blood. My gumboots squelch into the ooze and release the pungent earthy smell of rotting vegetation. Something scuttles away in the undergrowth in front of me. I catch my breath, my pulse races.
I hear the familiar intermittent flutter of tui flight and look up to see it land in a puriri branch. It eyes me suspiciously. Its beak opens and closes and the white feathers at its throat bob up and down, but it is not for human ears this song, I cannot hear it, yet something listens.
High above in the canopy taraire, kahikatea, karaka, puriri and cabbage trees stretch their arms to the light like a Pentecostal congregation praising the Lord, while those of us on the ground, the kihikihi, ferns, scuttley things and intruding human have to live in a permanent dusk.
A breeze rustles the leaves and they murmur something I can't quite understand. I shiver involuntarily, although it is not cold.
The clear bell like call of the tui penetrates the bush. It launches from its perch and flutters to the garden.
This I hear and understand. It is time to leave. Much later I sat with the spirit and we agreed that a row of clivia plants will mark our boundary. Beyond this line I will not interfere. But he made his trees grow wide and tall and shade even clivia plants so they do not thrive. He wishes me away.

Emmas first Communion

Emma's first communion  1st Sept 2013

Lola snuggled squashed behing cushions  25th August 2013

America's cup revisited

I think I have to change my mind  about the America's Cup.  With Oracle becoming more and more competitive the races are so exciting.  I don't think I have any fingernails left after this  10th race today. We finally won but Oracle won the first race of the day.  The score is still 7 to 1 but Oracle will be winning a few from now on if they stay so competitive. The racing is close and aggressive and can change lead at a drop of a hat.
I do still hope that if we win it we go back to a smaller cheaper boat like the 45's so that it becomes less of a money takes all and more countries can afford to take part.  But these 72's are amazing boats capable of heart stopping moments like when New Zealand almost capsized yesterday. My heart was in my mouth.

Polluted Water

What is it that our water ways are so polluted? I remember always stopping for drinks from streams whenever we were on a road trip. Were we naive or were they actually better?  Were they just as bad as now but we lived in blissful ignorance because there was not the technology we have today.

Americas cup 2013

 Americas cup 2013

Spinnaker luffing match, close sailing not seen
 this time

I get up every morning there is a race to watch the America’s cup and take a trip of remembrance and excitement. I do this partly because New Zealand is about to win the Louis Vuitton Cup but mostly as a salute to my Father, to his dedication to yacht racing, to the sport that dominated my youth and family life. Dad’s primary love was to sit with his hand on the tiller, the wind on his cheek, spotting wind changes up ahead, dodging tides and having a close tacking duel with a rival. He loved the call for “Water round the mark!”, a fast spinnaker set that hardly ever twisted, a good luffing contest as the overtaking boat tried to pass upwind to avoid a wind shadow to leeward and the overtaken boat desperately tried to prevent them. That was my father’s sailing.

A close tacking duel

Today in San Francisco, Martin Tasker also mourned the loss of those things; of close races and spinnaker gybes when skippers and crew pitted themselves against their opponents sailing skills. He thought the technicians had taken over this series, and hoped that should NZ win, we give the cup the race back to the sailor. Certainly, these modern sportsmen can’t feel the wind on their cheeks, encased inside their crash helmets. The boats, if they can still be referred to as boats because they look almost like aircraft, are so big, fast, and dangerous that close racing, and consequences of even a small touch would cost millions of dollars as well as risking lives. They will not hazard it. Boat speeds of 35knots means that they cover many yards in a couple of seconds. Boats can be only a couple of seconds apart but it is a great distance and not close enough to have a close exciting race with each other. Each race I have seen has turned into a procession around the course with only the odd breakdown to cause some excitement. It reminds me more of a formula one race rather that a yacht contest. I suppose it is the formula one of yacht racing now, but this means the sailors are hi tech drivers, getting the most of technology, not sailors, pitting their skills against each other, the water, and elements to win.

If something goes wrong with these modern America’s cup boats it is usually unfixable or, by the time they register what is wrong, the other boat has caught them from a hundred yards behind and is already disappearing to the other end of the course. A breakage or error for Dad still left you time to do a quick repair, to untwist a spinnaker, to run another sheet or a quick sail change and yet have your opponent within striking distance so the race was still on.

Dad loved the cut and thrust of one design racing where rules dictated the specifications of the boat so all boats were essentially as close to each other as possible. People then had to get the best cut sales and adjust the rigging to get the best performance from the boat within the regulations. Then it was up to the skipper to apply his tactics, strategies, and fine sailing skills to win the race. I acknowledge that these skills are part and parcel of the AC72s racing as well but somehow, from the races I’ve seen; it is secondary to attending to the technology.

Don’t get me wrong, I still enjoy the tension of the races and the spectacular grace of these AC72s. They are birdlike skimming across the water and make my heart jump when they yaw and wheelie round the buoys, the people look like beetles in their armour suits perched 5 or 6 metres above the waves in a hurricane of wind and spray as the boat heels hard in a gust. Oh, that is a great sight. Nevertheless, I still miss the old style racing.