Struan Farm

On Duty, Still

Like most of us our dog Clifford isn't getting any younger. He's approaching 16, which is saying something for a dog. He's on doggie aspirin monthly for his leg injury (chasing turkeys, twice) and his hearing isn't what it used to be. We've stopped tying him up at his house at night and let him sleep on the doorstep to our house. He just doesn't wander far any more, choosing to stay close to home and mostly nap.

I've been a bit skeptical about his value as security around the place given his evident decline. But I was wrong.

A few nights ago (it was actually 4:24 a.m.) he woke us up barking loudly and madly. I roused John, who went out to find two men sitting in a car in our drive near the house. The security light had gone on but they were afraid of Clifford so had stayed in the car. Seems they were out of petrol driving from Waitara up to Auckland airport to catch a flight to Brisbane. The petrol stations on the way were closed at that hour, obviously. 

John gave them enough petrol from a tin we keep in the garage to get them to Te Kuiti, where a station is open 24/7.  I'm still scratching my head about anyone showing up at someone's house at 4 a.m. in the morning, for whatever reason. 

But the story here is that Clifford is on duty, still.

Charlie's Grannies

We've harvested the first Granny Smith apples from grandson Charlie's apple tree here at Struan Farm this season, hooray! It's quite a decent amount of apples too. This is the first instalment, more remain on the tree yet to be picked in the Old Orchard area of the farm.

Pet lamb Jelly had a nibble on one and she reports they are really good.

Bluebells: Making a Dent

As reported earlier this year the bluebells at Struan Farm have started to take over in the Homestead gardens. John, who previously was protective of them given that they were one of his mum's favourite flowers, gave me a directive to get them under control. All I will say on this score is "ahem," since I remember warning him about them years ago. Perhaps also "yes sir, no sir, three bags full sir?"

And so last spring and summer I dug them out of the main gardens to the extent I was able. Some were saved for sister-in-law Anna, who has visions of a guerilla gardening effort with them somewhere in her area. Many went off to the burn pile. I'm confident they will crop up again in spring despite my best efforts, but in lesser numbers. It's like most invasive or weedy things, a progression. One that requires a consistent campaign over time. And realistic expectations.

Now it is time for me to tackle their numbers in our roadside wooded garden at the main entrance. They have started to strangle out the tulips and daffodils entirely, and we can't have that. I'm finding it's somewhat easier to dig them out in autumn, raking off the leaf mulch in the garden tends to expose them. In numbers! One cluster has 20+ bulbs of various sizes, so you can gauge the extent of the problem (and work involved).

The important thing here is I'm making a dent. That's my mantra and I'm sticking to it. I'm also wondering what Rosemary would think about it. I know what Maurie would say!

In Support of Sedum, However You Pronounce It

John's mum grew sedum near the Homestead rose trellis for years and years here at Struan Farm, along with nepita. While I've always loved the combination of the purple nepita below deep red Dublin Bay roses, I never particularly appreciated sedum's subtle appeal until now. It's a hardy succulent, easy care and drought tolerate. But far more important is that honey bees, bumblebees, and butterflies absolutely love it!

I was down working in the Homestead gardens this week and couldn't believe the number of bees and butterflies feeding on the flowering plants, sharing the pollen/nectar. There are over 400 varieties of sedum and it's definitely worth having in your gardens. When it is mature it can be easily split to create new plants too.

I would pronounce the name of this plant "sed-um," however kiwis pronounce it "see-dum." You decide what's right for you.

In Memory of "Bessie the Bomb"

We've been seeing vintage American cars travelling south over the past week here at Struan Farm, heading down to New Plymouth's annual "Americana" car festival. And over the weekend they all travelled back, many stopping in Piopio at the Fat Pigeon Cafe for coffee and/or a meal.

It was lovely to see the beautifully maintained cars and trucks parked around town! Almost makes me want a vintage Ford or Chevy pick-up truck...it would make quite the statement running into town each day to check the Piopio Community Fruit & Veg Stand, wouldn't it?

Growing up my mother drove a robin's egg light blue Chevy convertible we christened "Bessie the Bomb." Bessie would have been circa mid-late 1950's, so would have been related to some of these cars passing through Piopio. She didn't have long tail "fins," she was a bit more elegant and rounded, with a canvas roof. The sort of car one would drive wearing a head scarf and big sunglasses a la Grace Kelly or Audrey Hepburn. Her floor in the back rusted out toward the end of her life with us--things were a little hand to mouth at times growing up and my parents would have purchased her used. Eventually Bessie was replaced with a new VW bug that wasn't given a name. That was the car I learned to drive on, with the engine in the back and a stick shift of course.

The Albatross that is Ironing

The image of an albatross weighing around one's neck comes from Samuel Taylor Coleridge's poem "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner." For some reason the phrase has stuck in my head since grade school, but not the fact that the Mariner was punished for shooting a friendly albatross by having to wear its weight around his neck for life.

Suffice it to say that ironing is also for life pretty much. And ironing has a bit of emotional baggage for me. It probably doesn't weigh me down quite as much as the albatross did the Mariner, but at this time of the year the pile can mount up here at Struan Farm during "peak farmstay." Along with the cleaning and laundry. We do have duplicate sets of bed linens and carefully crafted "efficiency systems," but at a certain point the rubber meets the road, Karen has to confront her dread and tackle the ironing. When I'd much rather be outside, weeding even. John threatens to help, at which point I'm prompted into action, sufficiently humiliated that I'm obviously not coping with my responsibilities. I can't have that.

I know well from where this emotional baggage comes. My mother spent hours holed up in our basement (it was called the "cellar") when I was growing up, surrounded by mountains of laundry and ironing. She'd stand at the ironing board, smoking and watching her shows on a small black and white portable TV, late into the night. For me it was an image of servitude, also of being trapped or perhaps overwhelmed. The house had a laundry chute from the top floor, so everything just went shooting down the hole for my mother to deal with below.

I never really talked about what I saw as this dreadful situation with my mother. For all I know it was her secret hiding place, an oasis of quiet far from the madding crowd. But for me it was claustrophobic, something to be escaped at all costs. At a certain point she tried to get my sister and me to do our respective laundry and ironing (but of course not our brother). My main problem with this directive was that I worked in a department store part-time after school, and my sister tended to steal borrow and wear my nicer clothes. Which she then didn't launder or iron. So I was forced to look after both hers (really mine) along with mine. 

Here at Struan Farm the ironing does get done, eventually. It did today. There is no cellar where it can be left to accumulate, I have nowhere to hide (okay, there is the garden!). Plus the guests need their freshly ironed bed linens and table cloths, we do have standards to maintain.

 

A Day Off

It seems we need to go away from Struan Farm in order to "allow" ourselves to rest and relax. At least this is the case for John, who is relatively new to being at the farm on a full time basis. I learned to pace myself about two years ago, not that I'm wanting to sound superior in this regard. I collapsed from exhaustion one two many times, so learned the hard way that one can't work full tilt every day or one pays the consequences in one way or another. The challenge is that there's an endless amount of work to do around this place that keeps calling out to us. Much of which we created. It's our fault and we know this.

So John declared a "holiday" this past Saturday before we both fell over. Also before the scheduled tsunami of farmstay guests lands at the front gate. I'd just rather call it "A Day Off," since "holidays" mean something far more extended to me. This didn't even qualify as a "long weekend."

We travelled over to Kinloch to see John's sister Anna and two of her daughters and their families for lunch. Her place is a short walk to the shores of Lake Taupo, and in summer when the place is busy with holiday makers it has the feeling of the lakeside resort it is. We tried to bring the leftover ham from Boxing Day as a hostess gift, but when that was graciously declined went bearing Piopio strawberries and blueberries instead.

It was good to get away. On the drive over we encountered this rather amusing "road hog." He or she was being watched by a motley mob of sheep and goats, who weren't too sure what he/she was up to.

It was also good to get home to Struan Farm, feed Clifford and water the veggie gardens. Bring on the tsunami!

Post-Christmas & Boxing Day Post

Our holiday marathon started with the Piopio Christmas parade on Christmas Eve. And believe it or not, Piopio Community Fruit & Veg Stand's float in the parade won a first prize in the "Family, Friends & Whanau" category, woo hoo!

We had three lovely little bunnies munching away on artificial carrots and real lettuce, while the scarecrow they christened "Zack" napped above them. Walking alongside with me were mums Lulu and Jo, dressed as a carrot and a watermelon. I was attired in denim overalls and a big hat, carrying a garden trug full of flowers and veggies. (Can I just interject to say that I hadn't worn overalls since high school? They are very comfortable but seriously unflattering, John has made me put them away.) The float was driven by John on our vintage David Brown tractor. And while it did shower on and off before the parade started, we didn't get rained on during the parade. 

After the parade the planters full of homegrown, beautiful lettuce went to our local Fat Pigeon Cafe, while scarecrow Zack has found a home overlooking one of my tomato beds here at Struan Farm.

Christmas Day here is almost entirely about getting ready for Boxing Day--I cook while John mows and sets things up at the Homestead. Although we did find time for a reasonable Christmas dinner. Acceptances for Boxing Day totalled 45 this year, with the possibility of farmstay guests joining us, so I wanted to make sure we didn't run out of food, dishes, or cutlery. John's brother Carrick kindly made his mum's delicious dinner rolls. The actual number of people who came ended up lower by 11 due to illness (3) and no-shows (8), so we seriously over-catered, and have been working through the leftover ham, salmon, salads and baking ever since. 

The kid's archery competition ended up being quite the contest, with the leader choking and a come from behind victory in the over 9 age group. The Axten brothers triumphed on the croquet lawn. We also had a reunion of sorts amongst John's Robertson cousins, and the launching of the HMS Maurie down at the pond.

It was a good day. Along with the leftover food the leftover flowers were enjoyed too.

We've now cleaned everything up and recovered, mostly. John has been out rolling grass seed with the tractor and spraying, while I've had a session in the glasshouse potting up 200+ basil seedlings. The sort of things one does to relax and ground oneself here at Struan Farm!

Perfectly Legal

Our vintage David Brown tractor is now perfectly legal, wow. With the tractor scheduled to pull the Piopio Community Fruit & Veg Stand's float in the Piopio Christmas parade, much discussion happened about how the tractor was going to get into Piopio and back home without a major accident and without getting into issues with the police.

We looked at borrowing or hiring a trailer, however the tractor's double wheels made that hard. John announced he was just going to get up early one morning and drive it into town, something I wasn't terribly keen on. But then he started doing research. The tractor had been legally registered previously, there were two very old license plates on it, one on the front (589HQ) and one on the back (588HQ):

He went online and made some calls. Turns out he was able to update the registration and get new plates, then drive legally into town at 25 or 30k per hour.

And so we made the 10k drive into Piopio very early Christmas Eve morning, with me driving behind the tractor with emergency flashers going the entire way. John waved at the cows along the way, thought it was a great adventure. As you might imagine, I was just relieved we all got there in one piece! 

Boxing Day Baking, Rounds 2 & 3

I'm getting there with the baking for our annual Struan Farm Boxing Day event. RSVP's now total 47. And yes, I do have enough cutlery and dishes, thanks to a good sale at Briscoes! I've been able to get another batch of cream cheese Christmas cookies done, and second batches of brownies and cupcakes. Also the mince tarts baked and two batches of lemon verbena shortbread. (And pssst: John's Christmas cake iced with Royal Icing, just not decorated yet.)

I still have to thaw and bake the "pain d'amande" dough. At some point the cupcakes will get iced and decorated. I'm pondering a lemon thyme syrup cake, we'll see if that gets done. But what I do need to tackle this week is the icing of John's Christmas cake. It's been fed weekly with a healthy dose of whiskey. I've never made royal icing before, let alone with a layer of marzipan and apricot jam underneath. Stay tuned!

Let the Boxing Day Baking Begin

Several rainy days this week got me started baking for this year's Struan Farm Boxing Day family gathering. You will remember this is a much anticipated annual event, a gathering of the extended tribe. Current RSVP's approach 40, so I am being organised. Out of character, I know. The ham has been ordered for weeks, and I've just ordered several salmon fillets.

On rainy day #1 I made (and froze) "Margaret's Easy Mincemeat," from Simon and Alison Holst (they quibble over using store bought pastry, which I will use as does Simon), batch #1 of my classic "Chewy Fudge Brownies" (the recipe for which I managed to find online here), the dough for David Lebovitz' "Pain d'amande," (one granddaughter calls these "crispy almond cookies," which they are), and batch #1 of mini cupcakes (to be iced and decorated festively the day before). 

I appreciate none of the above look terribly appetising in their pre-freezer state in bad light on a rainy day, but they will when cut and/or baked and/or decorated on the day!

On rainy day #2 I made our "signature" chocolate chip cookies and the first batch of Cream Cheese Christmas cookies.

The Cream Cheese Christmas cookies have meaning to me, they are/were a Barrett family Christmas tradition, one of the few that lasted over the years (along with homemade apple, mince and pumpkin pies). My mother made them every year and the three kids would decorate them with sprinkles, candied cherries and/or chocolate chips. She used a recipe from a book that came with her cookie press, but I managed to find one online that is similar (predictably I can't manage to find it right now to provide a link). Ingredients are butter, cream cheese, sugar, vanilla and flour, so quite simple in that respect. But they are fiddly to make, the planets must align and temperatures cooperate. I've recently learned that it helps to chill both the press and the cookie sheet in addition to the soft dough in NZ's summer climate. 

Next I'll probably make a lemon verbena shortbread. With these done, and after I get the second batches of cupcakes and brownies made, I can take a breath. I'll have the basic offering covered and will be free to experiment if time permits, or bake things that can't be made ahead and frozen. I always put out a big crystal bowl of Piopio Berry Orchard strawberries and blueberries. Also a bowl of Cadbury "Roses" chocolates, which the kids sneak, wanting more than parents might otherwise allow. Let's let kids be kids, at least for one day, eh?

My motto for Boxing Day: have something for everyone so it's a fun and special day, and look forward to that cold glass of white wine when it's all over!

Christmas Cake, Feeding Required

I'm about to start baking for our annual family Boxing Day gathering here at Struan Farm. Over 40 coming this year, hooray! I've ordered a huge ham on the bone and put in a special request to brother-in-law Carrick to make his special bread rolls (Mil's recipe, world famous in Piopio). I'll order a few salmon fillets and come up with side salads shortly. The dessert table is where I tend to spread my wings, both in terms of offering and presentation. And I'll get on to that shortly.

But this past week I found a Christmas cake recipe in the current issue of Dish magazine that I decided to make for Christmas Day. John and I usually have a very low key Christmas dinner given the family extravaganza the following day. We're preoccupied with lawns, gardens, archery equipment, food, tables, etc. etc.  Christmas for us is a major work day! But John loves Christmas cake and Christmas puddings, so I'm attempting to make the former this year for our Christmas dinner dessert. John's eyebrows raised a wee bit when I explained that it's not exactly a traditional recipe, rather a more modern take on the classic, but we'll get past that I'm sure.

"Rich Whiskey and Spiced Fruit Christmas Cake" is made with a bit of cocoa and lots of fragrant spices. The cooked fruit (figs, dates, apricots, prunes, apple) is processed to give the cake a non-traditional finish. It is whiskey infused, and gets fed every seven-ten days with a bit more whiskey to season it further. (When the cake is still hot from the oven it is pricked with a skewer or toothpick and infused, rather like the technique for making syrup cakes.)

So far, so good. The cake is now wrapped in fresh baking paper and a tea towel, stored in an air tight container. Next weekend it gets another feed of whisky and so on until Christmas. Before serving it will get iced and decorated with a ribbon around the side and festive toppings of some sort. The recipe calls for chocolate ganache, which I won't do given John isn't exactly a chocoholic. In fact, chocolate often makes him sneeze. He's already concerned it looks a bit chocolate-y due to the cocoa and dark spices, so I'm working to minimise those concerns. I'll come up with an alternative on the icing for the top. But I have edible gold stars and will get other bits and pieces (chocolate and non) to make it sufficiently festive and over the top.

My next holiday challenge with be Christmas pudding, subject to acquiring one of those special pots to cook it (steam it?). Next year, perhaps. There's the Boxing Day baking to do.

A Wealth of Things To Do

John sometimes accuses me of being a "glass half empty" kinda girl. I don't really see myself that way, think I'm a relatively upbeat, positive person. But compared to John that might be a fair comparison. He does always look on the bright side of things as a dreamer, while I can be the resident skeptic/realist bringing everything back down to Planet Earth. 

So we were both surprised when I came in from working outside for lunch the other day to proclaim that golly gee, there's an absolute WEALTH of jobs to do here at Struan Farm at the moment. We're spoiled for choice there's just so much to do! This was after we'd been outside washing and re-staining decks and baseboards around the house, cleaning out rain gutters, and weeding. 

I'm smiling as I write this, because what John doesn't know if that I often am quite overwhelmed by the sheer amount of work that confronts us in the gardens and around the property. I keep seeing things that need doing and hyperventilate. I trim edges and weed and then find the same job needs re-doing a week later. I feel like I'm barely treading water at this time of the year. Much of this is self-inflicted, we know that. And most relates to maintenance and upkeep, without any of the grand infrastructure projects John may decide to get himself into with heavy equipment and contractors, like those macrocarpa trees. Right now we're also working on the design of a Christmas parade float for the Piopio Community Fruit & Veg Stand, wait 'til you see that.

One simply has to do the jobs that need doing the most first, or the jobs one wants to do most, and then move along. It's called doing your best and trying to have fun at the same time.

 

"During," continued

Yep, it's all been happening with the macrocarpa trees here at Struan Farm. I was chastised for groaning about the sound of chainsaws at 6:45 a.m. one morning, told I was sounding like a townie! 

We're liking the expansive view that's been exposed so far. Our house remains protected from the prevailing southern winds by a solid stand of native bush reserve. Suffice it to say there are months of clean up and re-landscaping efforts to happen before we get to "after."

Here's the view at the moment in late afternoon. We're thinking this is going to be pretty amazing, eventually.

The mobile mill has been operating as well, sawing two different size boards for us to use for the new tractor shed. Feedback is that the quality of the wood is quite good, phew.

More to come.

A Pampered Pooch, Briefly

Clifford, our dog here at Struan Farm, has looked progressively rattier ever since the local dog groomer developed carpal tunnel syndrome and stopped grooming. It's been several years since his last session, and he's now 15. He'd had one spectacular grooming after our move to Piopio, during which he moaned and groaned but after which he waltzed around waving his tail in the breeze, knowing he looked fantastic. It's been downhill ever since, he certainly won't let me brush anything but his back. I do bathe him during summer with the hose and medicated shampoo for his sensitive skin. That cools him off so he tolerates it. I also tend to grab him and cut off any dred locks as I see them, when and if he lets me.

I'd explored other options in the area but they were limited and few. In town our vet offered this service, at one point they shaved him, but in the country that doesn't happen since vets have a lot of other things to do related to large animals. One person wanted me to bring him to her house and leave him for the day, something I wasn't prepared to do. This was someone who works mostly with small dogs. That also gave me pause given Clifford's size and drama queen inclinations. 

Recently I saw an ad in Piopio's "BirdTalk" community paper for a mobile dog grooming service that comes to you, "Toi's Mobile Dog Grooming." I emailed and got a date and time on the diary, noting that he would probably fall into the "extra attention required" category with some matting in his fur. I didn't mention the sprigs of rimu in his tail, since those come and go.

Clifford didn't have a clue what was in store. Here he is "before" his extreme makeover. You really can't see how matted he is on his back end, which is probably a good thing. He's starting the seasonal moult as well, so now is a good time to be doing this.

  

There was no "during" since it was all done in van behind closed doors, which was probably a good thing for all involved. But here's "after."

TA DA! A pampered, fluffy, clean pooch, briefly.

Some Very Sad News

Yesterday morning John came in from his early rounds and feeding the pet lambs to report some sad news. I could tell by his face, and the fact he woke me up to tell me, that it wasn't good.

He'd found pet lamb Diva dead under a tree. She'd died during the night. We have no idea why, and sometimes this happens with pet lambs. She's always had respiratory issues, with a louder baa than anyone in the paddock. (Hence her name.)

The other members of the main mob, Bambi, Fergi, Whiskey and Camilla, had a quiet day. Jam and Jelly were none the wiser. We had some discussion about combining the two mobs but I've decided to let everyone settle.

Rest in peace little Diva, you were loved.

A Pot Palace of One's Own

Virginia Woolf would be rolling her eyes, but then again she was a gardener, so perhaps not. The wee garden shed that John and nephew Mike set up under the tawas behind my veggie gardens here at Struan Farm has gone mostly unused.

This was an old laundry shed from our property in Papakura that got saved and transported to Piopio on a trailer, destined for a second life in the country. John thought it would be used as a tool shed, but the location isn't conducive to that, it's inconvenient and hasn't been used. Instead it has turned into a dumping ground for antique tools that aren't used but John doesn't have the heart to throw out. Lately mostly for garden pots, that we recycle and reuse for seedling tomatoes, herbs, flowers and veggies.

As a result I've decided to christen it "The Pot Palace." It has found its purpose by default. I spent most of a day recently reorganising our collection of recycled pots, stacking and tidying everything up. Making order out of chaos, sweeping cobwebs and spiders out.

Now we just need a sign!

Poppies Popping

Our heirloom poppies are starting to flower here at Struan Farm. John's mum always had them through the garden and now I've got some up in the gardens at the newish house too. It's nice to see the bright pops of pink, they self seed everywhere and I also toss saved seeds around the beds. Plus the bees love them!

The "Before" Picture

I'm showing you this "before" picture to put "during" and "after" into context when it happens.

These are the macrocarpa trees at the bottom of the bowl below our house at Struan Farm. They were planted by John's father Maurie along the Old Road, to be harvested for timber many years ago now. But they've grown rapidly since we built our house, obscuring our view to the hills beyond entirely and closing us in. We considered taking out a few trees at a time but have decided instead they will come out en masse after discussion with the experts.

A local with a mobile mill is coming in the next few weeks to take them down and mill them on site. We will use some of the timber to build a new tractor shed, and the fellow involved will keep or sell the rest. New fencing will be done and the area right behind the macrocarpas will be cleaned up and new feature trees planted. There are some interesting limestone rocks that will become visible from the house, along with the hills beyond. Possibly also the Mangaotaki River. Rest assured, new special trees will be planted and landscaping done.  The macrocarpas were planted originally to be harvested, they are not old growth, native trees.

Yes, it's one of those "vision required" projects. Also one that will get messy, very messy, before all is done. Cleansing breaths, Karen!

A Jarring Experience

Recently I uncovered a stash of vintage Agee "Special" and Agee "Utility" jars in a cabinet in the Homestead here at Struan Farm. They belonged to John's mum, and are an old size, too large for jams and seemingly too small for fruit. John didn't remember her making relishes or pickles. I wondered what she used them for, so did a family survey.

Well it turns out she did make both pickles and tomato relish. And when the family at home was smaller she also used these for Golden Queen peaches, being the practical lady she was. I will probably use them most for flowers, but because rings and seals are still made for this size jar, I can also use them for those delicious spiced figs in brandy, or even preserved lemons.