Struan Farm

Surveying the Sheep, or Vice Versa

It's that time of the year when lambs are being created and incubated. I'm not sure if that's why the ewes have been so quiet, but recently I walked out the back gate and they didn't scatter but rather eyed me with interest:

 
 
And as I drove back to Papakura on Sunday, I stopped to photograph this rolling green hillside between the farm and Piopio:

 

I continue to love the landscape dotted with sheep, even though I see it all the time. But I still can't answer that age old question: what ARE they thinking?

 

 

Bus Stops

On my recent trip to Nelson I went into my favorite retro/vintage antique shop, Eclectic. As I entered the shop, I looked to the back brick wall and saw a long (10 ft!) black textile hanging with place names from the area in bold white letters: Nelson, Stoke, Richmond, and Tahuna amongst others.

 
It spoke to me, and I walked straight back to try to figure out what it was. I wasn't able to decipher the scribbled tag, so asked the gentleman at the till. He told me it was a "bus blind,"  the roll of changing destination names seen in the little window at the front of a bus. This one came from an erstwhile NZ company called "Newmans." A former employee had collected them over the years when they were due to be replaced and thrown out. They had a number of other shorter ones for sale in the shop, but I decided that the long one from the Nelson area was coming home since John and I had been married in the area.

It is destined to hang in our new Lockwood "Pio Pio." I figure it will look great hanging on the high wooden wall outside the kitchen, probably framed floating in glass with a black frame. I was expecting some raised eyebrows from John when I arrived home with it (he sometimes is just a wee bit skeptical of my more unusual purchases). But in this case he likes it and thinks it will look great in this space, one that sings out for something special and visually dramatic.

Of course that same weekend I picked up the May issue of "NZ House & Garden" magazine, where I discovered a framed bus blind from London featuring in one of the articles:

 
I am so onto these trends, aren't I?????

Sampler Intrigue

The May issue of NZ House & Garden has an article entitled "Sampling History," about an Auckland based needlework researcher named Vivien Caughley who has been unearthing, researching, writing and speaking about New Zealand needlework.

Apparently she has tracked down most of the 18th and 19th century work in public collections. Now she is writing a book, so has appealed to the public to share with her what might be in private hands.

It just so happens that I acquired what I think is a beautiful (and interesting) sampler a few years ago. It was framed and water damaged when I bought it, but not unsightly so. I have now learned that a conservationist could help me restore it properly, it's not the sort of thing I would mess with myself. It is one of those pieces that speaks to me; the maker would have spent considerable time stitching it, something that I appreciate and value.

 
After reading the article I decided to photograph the sampler and email Vivien. All I've known is what the sampler tells me, that it was done by Mari Wilson in 1945 for the Correspondence School. The article mentions that French embroiderer Louise Henderson taught at the Correspondence School after 1926, and that her legacy lasted into the 1990's.

Vivien responded to my email, and we met this week so that she could see the sampler firsthand. She hadn't seen one previously with "Correspondence School" on it, so was quite excited about that. It would have been done during Louise Henderson's time at the school. It was my turn to be surprised when she pulled out photocopies of the actual course on which it was based (she is missing only a copy of Lesson Six). (It was actually one of those "goose bump" moments.)  Vivien uncovered this at the Alexander Turnbull Library, New Zealand's National Library, in a collection of private papers donated by Louise Henderson's daughter, whom she has met and interviewed. In her 50's Louise Henderson changed gears and became a well regarded fine artist, so had a second important chapter to her creative life.

The Correspondence School taught lessons both by post and radio. Mari Wilson would have made this when she was 15/16 or so, at a time when embroidery was taught by the school as part of its art programme (vs. home economics or sewing). Vivien also informed me that it is unusual for a sampler made during war time to have blue thread at all, since that was used by the military.

I am now rather keen to try to find out more about Mari Wilson, including where she might have lived, also to try to find an original version of the Correspondence School lessons for this sampler (at least the missing Lesson Six for Vivien!).

It may be that a photograph of Mari's sampler will appear in Vivien's book, when published.  The history of this piece, which I originally bought because I loved it, is amazing!

Unveiling the Lockwood Pio Pio

As previously advertised, our new house is starting life for its first few years as a showhome for Waikato Living, the Lockwood business in Hamilton. It opened officially right before Easter to a great reception. Jol and his team have been pleased with the positive feedback, high volume of visitors, and inquiries to date. We seem to have struck a chord with the design, its open plan for the common living space and mix of wood and stone.

 
 
In honor of its final destination it has been christened "The Pio Pio." (Old spelling of our village name has been used.) Art and furnishings aren't ours. The house has been designed with lots of space to showcase our art collection.

My kitchen in particular is the subject of awe and envy. "Spacious" is an understatement, she says modestly. It has a walk-in pantry, although I've recently been told these are being called "sculleries." ("Pantry" works for me, there won't be any scullery maids in Piopio, I can assure you.) I remember growing up in houses with walk-in pantries; I like the fact this trend has come full circle in my lifetime, they're really practical things.

 
 
This is all very exciting, assuming they can eventually get it moved to our site near the bush at Struan Farm when it's finished its showhome turn. They assure us it can be.

I can already see us living here with the orchard and veggie gardens nearby, me busy tending to the animals, gardens, welcoming farmstay guests, and organizing knitters' workshops and retreats; John looking after his trees and planting new ones. And Clifford of course still chasing rabbits, perhaps more slowly by then (we'll have eradicated the possums at that point I'm sure).

May the next few years blow by..........we've got plenty to do at the Homestead and around the Farm in the meantime.

Heirloom Fig: First Fruit

John and I were out working in the garden at Struan Farm recently doing a major weed and autumn cutback. I was working in the area near the "Steps to Nowhere," close to one of our heirloom fig tree cuttings. It has gotten quite large this year, is starting to look like a proper tree.

Neither one of us had noticed (until now) that it had fruited for the first time this year: there were at least three figs!

 

 
It's a modest start for the first season, but something I'm happy about. It was also good news to see that the birds haven't discovered it, as yet.

Pumpkin Time

Interesting developments on the pumpkin front at Struan Farm. The more exotic varieties I planted on the shaded bank have not done at all well, while the more standard variety planted in full sun has flourished around our hydrangea, wrapping tendrils everywhere and relishing the heat of the black weed mat. Who would have known?

Last count: eight, several quite large.

Here is the "Great Pumpkin:"

 

From what I understand, one waits until the umbilical cord shrivels and dries out to pick the pumpkin. It is meant to last longer and not rot that way. One also leaves the stem attached to the pumpkin for the same reason.

I suspect an ax/hatchet of some sort and John's intervention will be required to cook these. I haven't made pumpkin soup from scratch as yet, but this could be the year.

When I was down in Nelson recently I picked up some Marina di Chioggia and Musquee de Provence seeds at Mapua Country Trading for next year. I know, my hope springs eternal. 

The lessons learned this year are that the sunny part of the bank is the best place to plant them, on weed mat, and that Musquee de Provence goes in early December.

Another Chance, By Chance

On my recent trip to Nelson I stopped by Soucheby's Antiques in Richmond. The shop is known for paintings and photography, which for me on a good day includes the odd George Chance photograph. Of course I found one called "The Resting Team," an interesting addition to our collection once it is re-framed with archival matting and UV glass:

 
On my previous visit I'd asked the owner to keep an eye out for a copy the definitive book on George Chance's photography. It's very hard to find, I've been trying to get my hands on it for almost ten years. It includes a good selection of his published images, including four of the (now) six we own. As it turned out, the owner had recently acquired one but had lost lost my contact details: 

 
It was a good thing I showed up at the shop when I did, entirely by chance, or he might have been tempted to sell it to someone else. It's great to have this published overview of George Chance's work to put our limited collection into a wider perspective.

Weekend Baking Experiments

I enjoy testing out new recipes over long holiday weekends, when there's time to relax and cook, for cooking's sake. And since the recent holiday weekend in question was Easter, our wedding anniversary, and my birthday, I figured we had a few things to celebrate.

I tried out three dessert recipes, the first two from a special NZ House & Garden issue called "Country Living," and the third the latest issue of "Dish" magazine. 

Thursday night I made Rhubarb Bread & Butter Pudding with Whiskey Cream. While the recipe calls for white bread, and I usually like to use brioche for this sort of pud, in this instance I used croissants that had been on special at the market and were starting to go stale:

 
Picture above was taken before it was put into the oven. The rhubarb is simmered with a bit of sugar and water until soft, then added to the layered buttered bread and egg/cream/milk mixture, which has a touch of whiskey added.  It was excellent, served with cream, softly whipped with another glug of whiskey and icing sugar.

Experiment number two was Apple Crumble Cake:

 
This cake has a delicious moist base with chunks of apple and crunchy top. I used some of the German heirloom apples I'd brought back from Nelson. I prefer it on its own or with a dollop of yogurt, although John couldn't forego his preferred option: cream!

Last but not least, a Walnut Caramel Tart featuring Struan Farm walnuts:

 
I served this for dessert after Easter dinner with vanilla ice cream. Made in a square tart pan with removable bottom, it is perfect for serving six people, eight in a pinch.

It was three for three. I will definitely make all of these recipes again, they are now in my repetoire.

Woodland Wonders & The Mother of All Fungi

John recently wandered down to the river at Struan Farm to move some sheep, returning to tell me that I needed to get out to see all of the fungi/toadstools around the property. That I should look under our grove of pine trees, but that they were cropping up everywhere. I spent the next several hours wandering around with my camera, marveling at the colors, shapes, and sheer number.

For whatever reason they are indeed everywhere this year, with lots of variety. Several types were clustered in little communities, often in lines or circles as if gathering:

 

 

 

 

 

To top it off, we were out walking the next day and found this gigantic specimen, which has got to be the Mother of All Fungi:

 

 

Happy in a Small Way

In spite of illness, in spite even of the archenemy sorrow, one can remain alive long past the usual date of disintegration if one is unafraid of change, insatiable in intellectual curiousity, interested in big things, and happy in a small way.

--Edith Wharton

 

It has taken me a long time to find happiness in life, much longer than most people. I guess I was a slow learner: I was well past forty before I was content and at peace with myself. I needed to put some family stuff into perspective. For a long time I didn't think I would love anyone or be loved myself. But all that changed when the universe opened a door: I met John, moved to New Zealand, and married quite late (47). There really has been no looking back, although there has been an annual trip to Pasadena!

John and I love each other, our life together and what we're building at Struan Farm, even if it's a huge amount of physical work. Piopio is our special little corner of the world.

Sunday over breakfast we looked out from the Homestead to the Pet Paddock and just marveled at the view and the vibrant colors. The green grass and the gold, red, and brown leaves were amazing. 

 

 

John remembers that his parents always commented on the autumn colors in their later years-- he was worried that perhaps this is a sign that we are becoming elderly?! Of course I laughingly denied this. Mainly because my experience is that one really doesn't see the details in the landscape until it's yours in some way, at which point even subtle changes are noticed.  You are familiar with it and care enough to pay attention to changes, however minor.

I've experienced this same thing with the garden. Its beauty was apparent, but I hadn't fully appreciated the variety and the seasonal changes until I was responsible for looking after it.

This weekend the camelias have started to appear while the dahlias and hydrangea are in their final show of the season. I'm constantly reminded why John's parents were happy in a small way, and now why we are too.

 

 

 

 

Cold Turkey?

I run hot and cold on the wild turkeys. Right now I think I'm tepid.

They are serious pests: pooping around the terrace and decks of the Homestead, foraging through the garden at their leisure, they wander about Struan Farm in large numbers. They are oblivious to human presence, much as I hoot and wave my arms to shoo them off. Clifford has been trained to ignore them, something I think I now regret.

John is reluctant to shoot them. He has tried to chase them across the road to the neighbors, but they keep coming back because of the abundance of food. John is able to shoot rabbits without a qualm, but birds give him pause.  I may need to take matters into my own hands eventually, not anything I've ever contemplated. I really just wish they'd wander off elsewhere and become someone else's problem.

I've been gathering chestnuts from the Pet Paddock, thinking about Thanksgiving dinner and chestnut stuffing. We've got pumpkins in the garden for pumpkin pie. Were the Pilgrims overrun by turkeys?  Is it time for a Thanksgiving of our own at Struan Farm? 

But this past Easter weekend I went off and quietly stalked them with my camera. I managed to sneak up on several gorging on crabapples from ahigh and found myself laughing out loud:

 
 
 
 
 

 I've decided that they are nervous, gentle souls. This gives me pause (to some extent), at least for now.