Struan Farm

Freya, Finished!

I've been toiling away these past few rainy days here at Struan Farm to try to finish granddaughter Freya's needlepoint Christmas stocking. I'd left the most fiddly bits for last, and this is one of the more detailed canvases that I've done. But good news: it's done!

Next it gets sent to my friends at The Needle Nook of La Jolla, where it will be blocked, backed with velvet, lined with white satin and edged with a twisted cord edge, tassels and bells. Five of these labours of love down, two more to go. And the good news is that I've already started the next one in the queue, I might actually get that one finished this winter too since it's on larger mesh canvas and is slightly smaller.

Once the needlepoint stockings are done for the grandkids I can start knitting again, woo hoo! I also have a few needlepoint canvases of sheep that are in the closet, waiting to be stitched too. Given all the outside work we have here at Struan Farm, I can only manage to sit down and work on this sort of project in winter, on rainy days or at night.

The Quest for Quercus alba

This past week I have been on a quest of sorts to locate a white oak tree, or "Quercus alba," here in New Zealand. One will be planted in Ohio to honour my sister Beth, so I thought we would do the same halfway across the world here at Struan Farm. The tree symbolises peace and serenity.

I quickly learnt that this might be easier said than done after starting to check around a few of our usual sources for trees. But something rather amazing happened.

I emailed Appletons Tree Nursery, a commercial supplier and family owned business located outside of Nelson, explaining my desire to purchase one white oak tree and the reason behind it. The next day I was contacted by Keith Appleton, a seriously lovely man. It turns out that they too love American Oaks, particularly Quercus alba, but it is quite rare here in New Zealand. They have propagated seedling trees from two trees that are in the country. One produced rather unattractive progeny, but the second produced beautiful trees. All of those raised by Appletons had been sold a year or so ago to another nursery, Harrisons, in Feilding here on the North Island. By coincidence, Appletons was in the process of having those trees shipped back to them so they could plant them and propagate more. However, Keith had been in touch with Harrisons on my behalf, and had arranged for them to sell me one of the trees. I rang Harrisons and the tree will be delivered to Piopio in early July when they do their tree deliveries in the region.

I am seriously touched by the kindness of these tree people. They didn't know me, but they've helped me acquire this special tree to honour my sister. Given what white oaks represent, can I just say that we should all be planting them! When the tree arrives here for planting I will share that with you. In the meantime we need to figure out where it is going to go.  It will need to be a special place. John's got just a few trees to plant (and fence) this winter...

 

Winter Landscaping Projects, part 1

This past week John was able to get the 22 rewarewa trees we recently purchased planted (and fenced) along the drive up to the new shed here at Struan Farm. This is just the start of the landscaping we're doing this winter in the bowl below our house where the macrocarpa trees were taken out last summer. 

Rewarewas grow quite straight and tall. They are only one of two remaining native proteas here in New Zealand, the others are extinct. They have beautiful flowers that both bees and birds love, so many reasons to plant them.

Yes, yet another project where "you gotta have vision!"

In the Footsteps of Maurie

This week John had yet another encounter with a road crew working outside Struan Farm on the main road. He'd seen that they were sealing a section of the road, but dumping defective seal in a pile for disposal. Can anyone guess where this is heading? John asked if they would dump the reject seal so that we might use it at the end of the "Old Road" here at the farm. We're building up the track to remove pine trees in another year or so. Any sort of rubble is useful for this, let alone seal.

The plot thickens. The truck driver said he'd be happy to dump the pile at the end of the Old Road, so the gate was opened and he backed down to do exactly that. The only problem was that once the truck was empty he couldn't get back up the track onto the road, oh dear! And the other trucks that might have helped him had already gone home for the day. John sprang into action, zipping over to the neighbour to ask if he wouldn't mind deploying his big tractor for a rescue operation. He didn't, and basically saved the day. And after seeing the pile of warm seal, he also used his tractor to spread it out on the track so John wasn't left with a hardened pile of asphalt with which to contend. 

John will be starting to get a bit of a reputation if he keeps this sort of behaviour up. Word will get around.  I'm smiling because his father Maurie was very much the same, John is just walking in his father's well tread footsteps. Family legend has it that "back in the day" Maurie borrowed the road crew's sealing machinery, with their permission, and had the family out sealing the tennis court over a weekend. Clearly that sort of thing wouldn't be allowed today, but the crews do seem happy to dispose of stuff considered rubbish to someone who can put it to use, or at least thinks he can.

It's not exactly a super highway. And as you can see, pet ewes Pip and Ruby aren't too sure either!

On Taking Walks, Writing, & A Battle Lost

Sometimes it's important to get outside here at Struan Farm and go for a walk to appreciate life and the beauty that surrounds us.

Maybe even take some apple treats to a pet ewe or two, and talk to the sheep about their incubating lambs.

This week I came across a blog post on (where else but) FB, by a writer named Sean Dietrich, responding to a thirteen year old who contacted him about writing. This teenager wanted to write but didn't think he was "good enough." Sean's response resonated with me on many levels, read it in full here. Basically he confessed that he didn't have anything brilliant to write about at all, rather he writes about simple things. I like to think that's what I do with the Struan Farm blog. I write about our life here at the farm, the ups, the downs, the projects, the tomatoes. He also said that "sometimes you write so you can find your way through sadness," and this would be one of those times for me. There is an element of healing in the process of reaching out to talk about something for some people, including me.

My sister Beth passed away this past week following a 25+ year battle with bipolar disorder. I've been thinking a lot these past few days about life and family as a result, trying to make sense of her death. As the eldest child I was the communicator in our family from an early age. I wanted, needed to understand and be understood. As most people will know, understanding isn't always possible. It can be challenging or annoying to others who can't cope with that or don't want or need it.  Sometimes people won't talk even if you try to force them, they shut down. Opening cans of worms, ripping scabs off old wounds, isn't always appreciated. Others don't always know what they're feeling themselves, so how can they explain it to you? Sometimes you may need to walk away for your own good, to try to understand things with some emotional distance. 

I remember going to the photography studio and having the picture above taken with my sister. She wasn't cooperating with the shoot at all, so the photographer put the phone on the table, it rang, and she picked it up to talk to whomever was calling her. It was a masterful child wrangling technique if there ever was one, perhaps that's why I've remembered it.

I can't understand why Beth is gone, or begin to understand everything she suffered through. Her disorder eventually made her life impossible it seems. I do know she was loved, but maybe she lost sight of that. And while I can't speak for the rest of the extended family, having her rest in peace after a very long battle will have to be enough for me. I'll keep telling myself that until it sinks in.

 

 

Reuse, Repurpose, Recycle

Most readers of the Struan Farm blog will know we're pretty creative about reusing, repurposing and recycling various things around the property. "It's in our DNA," to quote NZ home improvement chain Mitre 10, although in their case they're referring to DIY projects, something else we're also keen about. We don't engage service providers unless we absolutely have to, and we don't waste very much of anything, except sometimes time. John's dad Maurie was rather well known for his improvised use of recycled materials (as most farmers are), and I've joked with John that he is becoming more and more like his father every day. I must also say it has rubbed off on me.

This week we noticed the road traffic management crew setting up signs and road cones at the southern border of our property, and wondered what they were up to, especially since there wasn't a slip or any fallen trees. It turned out they were getting ready to replace wooden posts supporting the steel guard rails running alongside a bend in the state highway with steel. John's mind immediately jumped to what they were doing with the posts that were being taken out, and if we might be able to get them to reuse on the farm for various projects.

He spoke to the contractor working on the job, and ended up contacting the owner of the company. We've negotiated to buy the posts at a reasonable rate in exchange for letting the company leave their gear on the farm overnight while they are working. The 70 kg. posts, which will eventually number over 100 by the time the job is done, will be dropped at the end of the old road. The company would normally resell the posts for use as garden sleepers, but selling them to us saved them considerable transport and fuel costs and sorted out where they were going to leave their equipment during the job. Yes, a "win, win."

These will be used in due course around Struan Farm. What immediately comes to mind is to help create steps on various tracks down hills, including out past the rusty steel sculpture on the knob looking out from our house, and to finish the track running from the QEII bush reserve below the Cottage down to the river. We're working to make it easier for people who don't know the farm as well as we do to be able to explore and wander around, easily. Or at least more easily than has previously been the case.

On the Road

John's brother sent through an old family photograph a few days ago that had most of the Robertson siblings standing outside the front gate of Struan Farm many years ago now:

It's not the sharpest photograph, but it's interesting to us on a few counts and prompted quite a discussion. First, to compare the front roadside property then and now. The dahlias and gladioli are long gone, but the trees have grown in a major way. Here's roughly the same area today:

Second, the road surface of the state highway and main road south. I learnt that it was actually white originally, something I never knew! While the segment of "Old Road" that goes through the farm is, in fact, white, I'd thought this was because it had been worn down over the years to its base, not because the road itself was white. I was wrong. For readers who aren't as familiar with the history of the farm as well as we are, many years ago now John's dad Maurie did a land swap with the government roading agency when they re-routed the state highway. So a section of the old highway became part of the farm, which we still call "the Old Road." Here's what it looks like today:

Lastly, it looks like John's wearing a tie! Must have been the school uniform, but then he was also known to favour bow ties every so often as an homage to his grandfather Sir Carrick.

Playing with Autumn Colours

An article in the recent issue of NZ Gardener magazine inspired me, with a DIY bouquet of autumn leaves and berries. While we don't have the same materials used in the article here at Struan Farm, I went off to see what I could find in the gardens for seasonal raw materials. It was a good excuse, we've been so busy this past month that I haven't had any time to wander or be out in the gardens. I've been overdue to reconnect with the gardens, myself, and of course check out what might need a bit of love and attention in the process. I also gathered the last of the walnuts, picked some figs, and fed more than a few pet lambs apple treats in the process. Efficiency thy name is Karen. It needs to be!

While I was walking around I remembered the time I went out in the fields around our house and gathered a dried bouquet for my mother, picking things like seed pods, berries, Honesty, etc. Shortly thereafter I came down with a terrible case of poison ivy, the worst our pediatrician/paediatrician had ever seen. I even had it in my mouth. As a result I stopped picking dried bouquets. Sensitive skin, thy name is also Karen.

Fortunately we don't have anything like poison ivy here in NZ, so I think I can dip my toe back into the dried bouquet game. Plus I know what's around the gardens. I am wary of stinging nettles, privet, and cotinus/smoke tree, all of which tend to cause allergic reactions in many people, including me. I'm careful working with the swan plants we grow for Monarch butterflies, which are poisonous to people and stock and have a toxic sap that can blind. I've just been reading about the dangerously poisonous Phoenix palm tree, thankfully we don't have any of those here. Good news: I did find some colourful autumnal bits and pieces to play with in the gardens.

Here's what I managed to come up with:

I'm quite pleased with these, and I haven't gotten any rashes just yet, even better!

 

Kai Safari Piopio

Events of the past long holiday Easter weekend here at Struan Farm may result in another "fifteen minutes of fame" for me, just when I thought I'd done my dash and was fading into the shadows. John is joking that I can now write my memoir, "From Manhattan Beach to Choice TV."

About a week ago I got a call from a producer of the Choice TV show "Kai Safari," saying that they were coming to the Waitomo/Piopio area and wanted to come to film here at Struan Farm. They were interested in our figs and feijoas, and I told them about the kahikatea berries I'd been experimenting with for jam. We agreed they'd appear the morning of Easter Sunday with the hosts and crew. Later in the conversation it became clear that I was meant to cook something. Of course we also had twelve farmstay guests here over the weekend, not much on!

The weather forecast for the day was pouring down rain. Fortunately that didn't happen. John announced he did not want to feature AT ALL so I was put on the spot. A drone was sent up to get some aerial shots of the farm's landscape. Co-host Sonia and I picked figs from one of our heirloom "Huia" fig trees, also kahikatea berries (koroi). No one had known kahikatea berries are edible, so it was good to be able to spread the word about that. Friends Lizzie and Ripeka were driven into Piopio and the Community Fruit & Veg Stand for a brief chat about Piopio before returning so that I could make a fig, apple and feijoa shortcake. It was the first time I'd combined all three fruits in one cake, but producer Pete directed me to do so and he made a good choice as it turned out (he's a chef and clearly knows what he's doing!). The day wrapped with afternoon tea around the dining room table.

The next morning they went off to see Melanie at The Fat Pigeon Cafe and Night Owl restaurant. The cafe was so busy that they moved filming over to the restaurant, a quieter and better spot. Mel was presented with a wild hare shot a few days ago on a nearby Hangatiki property owned by a fellow named "Jazz" and his family. She ended up creating an amazing "Hare and Pear Salad," marinating the meat in a blackberry vinaigrette before searing it and slicing thinly, serving it with freshly foraged watercress, walnuts candied in Piopio Gold honey, and kahikatea berries. Mel hadn't known about kahikatea berries either, so I feel like I've done my bit on behalf of kahikateas. After Mel's segment was finished filming everyone involved gathered around a big table at the Night Owl for a "hakari" or feast to celebrate. My shortcake featured for dessert. Co-host Russell composed and played a song on his guitar to commemorate the occasion.

They'll let us know when the show is scheduled to air. Who knows what bits will make the show or end up on the cutting room floor, but t was a fun experience either way! Piopio: Where It All Happens.

 

Huia Fig #2

This year it's been interesting to see the second heirloom "Huia Fig" tree grown from a cutting at Struan Farm flourish and fruit. Many years ago now John and I got permission from our neighbour to walk down and across the Mangaotaki River to the old Huia homestead site on their property to take cuttings from the old fig tree. While the house is long gone, the fig tree grows and fruits, still. We figured it has acclimated to our immediate climate, and that any trees grown from cuttings should thrive. And guess what? They have.

The larger of the two trees is now on the edge of the Old Orchard and Pet Paddocks, while the second has been moved around a few times but has a final resting place out beyond the two tawa groves near our house, on the point looking south. While this area does get a bit of wind, it also gets good sunlight, and this little tree has settled in for the long haul. In fact this season (to date) I've harvested more ripe figs from it than its more established larger sister down below. Perhaps because it's closer to the river and its mother tree, who knows?

We like having this living connection with the family too. "Young Tom" Huia and his family lived in the Cottage when he worked for John's dad Maurie. Not too long ago Tom's wife Beryl and his daughter Glenys returned for a stay at the Cottage. Of course Glenys returned home with a cutting from the fig.

 

 

The Comforts of Old Age

Struan Farm's resident dog Clifford turns 16 this year, which is getting on in dog terms. We've given up on tying him up, and he's decided not to sleep in his house anymore, moving to our front doorstep. As it has started to turn cooler I've put his wool "blankie" down, but he's been moving onto the garden beside the house to curl up in the wood mulch, spraying that all over the concrete drive. He may be comfortable but it's not the best, caverns are forming in the garden.

So I decided it was time for Clifford to get a proper dog bed.

At first he wasn't so sure, but now he's loving it and isn't moving off!

Can I just say that all of us should have someone who looks after us well and loves us still when we're 112 years old? (That's translating dog years into people years...)

 

 

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!