Struan Farm

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.

Back to the Future

Most frequent readers of this blog will know that we do a fair bit of physical work around the property here at Struan Farm.  We're used to being high energy and working hard. But springtime puts us to the test. There's just so much that needs to be done pretty much all at once when the weather cooperates.

The past few weeks we've kicked it into high gear in the gardens and around the Homestead, Garden Cottage and Cottage before the farmstay season gets busy. Cleaning windows, gutters, roofs, painting, weeding, trimming. John pulled out Maurie's old Oregon pine wooden ladder to get up on the roof. It's so heavy he can barely lift it. Kids, please don't do this at home! 

We've also been working on refining John's updated vision for the back gardens. He's laid out limestone rock for the back edge that Mike will dig in, after which the soil will be turned over and I will get to planting. The trellises will also get washed and painted.

Part of this process involved removing a "rustic rubble" edge to that garden on the left hand side above. The rubble has gone to a path in another part of the garden. It will be replaced by a low brick edge, in keeping with the front edge of that garden. (Please note that this looks quite rough at present, it will all be prettied up and reflect our high standards when done!)

As I was digging up a special pink dahlia to protect it from the concreting and related construction, I found a brick edge submerged deep in the soil. It had just been buried when replaced by the rustic rubble. A major find!

So I've managed to save nephew Mike a bit of work laying out bricks and concreting, he'll only need to add a second layer on top of what is already there.

It also seems, at least to me, that we're taking the garden back to the future, where it has gone before....

Rosemary Saves the Day

As previously reported, I discovered recently that some damage had been inflicted to the heirloom hellebores growing in the Homestead wooded gardens. Over the summer John waged rather aggressive chemical warfare against the Japanese anemones, which were spreading pretty much everywhere around the gardens. I'd cautioned him to be careful, but you know how that one goes. He is his father's son. And those anemones, sneaky, invasive buggers that they are, seemed to have used the hellebores as "floral shields."  As a result, we just don't have the big groups of hellebores growing and flowering now where we've had them for years and years. Hopefully the survivors will self-seed and they will eventually return in numbers. 

Fortunately the ones I'd planted in the newer gardens at our house were far away from the battleground. These are newer hybrid types, including one named "Princess Rosemary." 

John's mum was named Rosemary, so I thought we needed to have this one in the gardens. She's flowered for the first time this winter, much appreciated given the hellebore shortage we're facing! The blossoms are quite large, and the colour a bit unusual. 

Yes, Rosemary saves the day. 

Of Pet Lambs Past, Present and Future

Ahead of lambing season and setting up the Pet Pen at Struan Farm this year I thought it might be fun to remember our pet lambs over the past few years. Rosie, Ruby, Pip, Pepper and Cookie are still on the farm, about to have their second lot of lambs. Tootsie, Dixie, Mixie, Scout, Daisy, Matilda and Minnie are down with Farmer John on his farm. 

A few stand out from the mob: Rosie (of course) from the Class of 2015, Spud, my first real pet lamb in 2014, and Alfie and Trixie from the Class of 2017. Cookie and Buster from the Class of 2016 get honourable mentions, along with Ruby (2015).

I went through them with John over dinner a few nights ago, laughing about things that happened and the various personalities. He has a tendency to roll his eyes on the topic of pet lambs, something I choose to ignore.  I remember sobbing at the dinner table when told Spud was sent off farm. The little darling who decided to take the most direct route to his bottle by swimming across the pond. I hadn't known lambs could swim and was prepared to jump in the water and muck to rescue him, but it seems some lambs can swim when motivated to do so. Over the years I have learned not to get quite so attached to ram lambs. Or rather to try not to, since Alfie was my favourite from last year, running up for pats and looking after Trixie, with her bad leg. He was a sweetie, a true gentleman. Also not to name the new arrivals until it looks like they will survive. I now keep everyone in the garage in a warm box with blankets until we get through that initial uncertain period. Even then, sad things do happen. Their mums often know what we don't. We had a scary period with the Class of 2015 when Rosie and a few others ate something that caused them to spasm. John was pretty sure she was going to die overnight from whatever it was. Once again I found myself sobbing, quietly this time since the grandkids were visiting. But Rosie and the others all pulled through; we still don't know what caused the problem. I try to get everyone familiar with eating apples as treats, especially around weaning time when they're more inclined to try new things. It works with some but not others.

Here are some photos of the pet lambs, past and present, almost all of them. Be prepared: cuteness alert!

2011: Wooly Joe. This was before I'd moved to the farm full time and sister-in-law Anna ended up adopting him. He proceeded to climb up her plum trees and break his leg, requiring a splint. 

2014: Spud. Spud taught me a lot about pet lambs, he was smart like that. He would follow us around the property provided there was a bottle in it for him and he loved being with the kids. In addition to swimming across the pond, he was known for kissing the gnomes.

2015: Rosie, Ruby, Pip, Pepper and Spanky. This was the first year when I honestly felt I knew what I was doing with the rescued lambs. I didn't hesitate to work to save them, sticking my finger down their throats to get them to suck and drink, getting myself covered with muck. This is what saved Rosie. This is probably the mob that I had the most connection with, and still do.

2016: Cookie, Buster, Curly, Tootsie, Mickey and Minnie. Cookie is still here on the farm with us. Buster was born by C-section, he was too big for his mum who died. Tootsie had that lovely floppy ear. Unfortunately I don't have any photos of Mickey and Minnie, who arrived at Struan Farm in November (vs. August/September). They were given to us by the neighbours, as late season lambs, and never really bonded to me except for as a source of food. 

2017: Mixie, Dixie, and Trixie, Alfie, Matilda and Clover, Scout, Romeo, Daisy and Tim Tam. This was the year I learned that there are limits to my ability to cope. Bottle feedings got complex, with rough jostling at the back gate. I found myself shouting some times. Mixie, Dixie and Trixie were triplets from next door, their mum died. Trixie, the largest of the three, had a rough start, and was better off when separated from her sisters. At a certain point I put her back into the Pet Pen with TimTam to calm her down, since she was refusing to drink from the bottle when being bumped by other lambs. Eventually I put her in a separate paddock with Alfie, Daisy and TimTam (younger lambs). You see, lamb wrangling often requires a psychology degree. Matilda and Clover were twins whose mum had no milk. I can't seem to find any separate photos of Romeo, sorry.

Getting ready now for the Class of 2018....

Beside the Old Race

Sheep are loaded onto stock trucks here in NZ via wooden ramps called "races." Ours here at Struan Farm was at the back gate on this part of the original farm, but it has been de-constructed given the small number of sheep run on the remaining property (100-130 depending on feed and the year). Instead we've built a new race right next to the wool shed and the yard, which is more convenient to use.

Beside the Old Race and the back gate a gnarly but delicate maple tree grows. Often overlooked, it wanted me to tell you that it's at its best this time of the year. 

It seems even quiet, shy trees want some attention some days too.

 

Fossilised: Paleontology in Piopio

Some cold, winter mornings we all feel just that little bit stiff, don't we?

But I'm not talking about us getting older and fossilised (or ossified). I'm talking about the fossilised shell in the large limestone rock John uncovered down at the pond here at Struan Farm. He mentioned it to me the other day, since we're getting ready to fence that side of the pond. The fencing wood has just been delivered. I'm meant to be putting in native plants around the end once that's finished. Despite the muck from recent rains I decided to don my gumboots and trundle down to see if I could find this fossil in the rock.

I did, with Clifford's help.

We continue to find fossilised shells in limestone rocks around the farm. I suspect what this particular find means is that we will continue to expose this rock beside the pond further, another project.

John remembers his family sending rocks with fossils to the University of Canterbury in 1963, when the re-routed State Highway was blasted through and rocks were thrown up in the surrounding area (not a roading practice undertaken today, to say the least). They received a report back indicating that the samples were 70 million years ago. I'm assuming this meant someone down there did some carbon dating rather than hazarded a guess, but John can't remember that either way. He does remember getting the news back since it was rather a big deal in the day.

The family, recyclers always, picked up quite a few rocks thrown up by the blasting and used them to edge gardens. Many of these rocks remain around the Homestead gardens today, including this rather special one full of fossilised shells:

 

Hopefully we'll find more beside the pond in due course. At which point we'll add "paleontologist in Piopio" to our resumes.

On Losing One's Marbles

Marble cake, that is. I don't think marble cake is all that common here in NZ, so I was interested to see a recent recipe for Olive Oil Marble Cake in the NZ Herald's weekly "Bite" supplement. I haven't eaten it for years and had never made one.

Growing up in the US we had marble cake all the time. But I'm not quite sure why that tradition existed in our family. It turns out that marble cake was introduced to the US by German immigrants before the Civil War. Early versions used molasses and spices for the dark colour rather than chocolate. My family is of Irish/Scottish/English extraction, but it could be that marble cake is just one of those cakes that everyone makes in the US or in certain regions of the US, like angel food cake.

This recipe uses cocoa and rum to colour the dark marbling. The base batter is mixed in the food processor, it's quick and easy to make. I'm not sure why the cake rose up and cracked in the middle, research required. I'm sure an old school baker could tell me. Perhaps the milk was too cold and should have been room temp. SOS Mary Berry!

 

I'm on the Job, Freya

Given the rainy weather here at Struan Farm over the past two weeks I've had plenty of time to catch up on my ironing, reading and walnuts. It's also time to crack into granddaughter Freya's needlepoint Christmas stocking, she's next in line. I created this tradition, yes I did.

Freya saw the canvas when she visited Piopio from the U.K. this past Christmas, when brother Charlie received his stocking. While the element of surprise is special, we decided it was important for all of the grandchildren (and their parents) to understand how much work and love actually go into making these so that they are appreciated and treasured. John has specified that each grandchild must be old enough when they get theirs to understand all that. This dictate has actually bought me some time, although I do want to get everyone's done as soon as I can. 

This design is quite detailed, on finer canvas than I usually work. So it's taxing on both hands and eyes. This is going to take time, Freya! I'm not sure I'll get it all done in time for this Christmas, but I'll do my best. Progress is being made. It's sometimes easier to see that from the back.

Once I finish the painted part of the stocking I get out my handy "Alphabetrics" book, which has letters of the alphabet in various font styles graphed out, and stitch "Freya" across the top, filling in the background with an off white wool. This is the home stretch before I post it off to my friends in La Jolla, California for finishing, where they block the canvas and back the stocking with velvet, sew in a satin lining, and finish it with a twisted cord edge with tassels and bells.

MasterChef Australia is due to start shortly and that's good for a few hours of television and needlepoint several week nights. The finishing deadline at the Needle Nook of La Jolla is September. 

 

The Winds Doth Blow

It's been a bit of a week on weather front here at Struan Farm in Piopio. Heavy rains, high winds, thunder, lightening. The sun shone briefly on Wednesday afternoon, "briefly" being the operative word.

I ventured outside to give Clifford his breakfast one morning and found the pottery plate that has graced the entrance to John's workshop shattered in pieces on the concrete drive. It had been blown off its holder by the winds.

This was a replica of one that hung outside his dad Maurie's workshop (now the Garden Cottage) for many years. I'd had it made for John as a Christmas present at a now defunct pottery studio in Nelson.

I'm sad about this. I know things happen, but still, I'm sad. I liked that we'd kept that link to the past in a small way. I might need to see what I can do to replace it in "due course."

Ahoy Mateys

Good news, the "HMS Maurie" has been relocated (finally) out of John's workshop here at Struan Farm and moved to the tractor shed pending the construction of its new home at the pond.

Nephew Mike will be building a new little boat shed out of recycled corrugated iron. The idea is that the boat will be hung up inside with a rope and pulley system, keeping it clean and dry when not in use. Or at least cleaner and drier than it might otherwise be floating on the water or sitting on the shore.

Sometimes these projects take time. I'm waiting to christen its launch with a bottle of champagne.

A Modest Celebration of Cake & Flowers

I had the opportunity to bake a cake this week here at Struan Farm for a birthday celebration: mine. And a fifteenth wedding anniversary: mine and John's. Once again I made the Barefoot Contessa's carrot cake recipe, with Ottolenghi's maple icing. Iced naked, of course. I'm not sure I could handle a fully iced cake these days!

I topped it with finely chopped walnuts, some drizzles of salted caramel, and crystallised pansies/violas (edible flowers). I hadn't tried making crystallised flowers before. It was fiddly but fun. The flowers are brushed front and back with beaten egg white, then dusted with caster sugar before being left to dry on baking paper in the hot water cupboard for at least 24 hours. I'd read one recipe that hadn't explained that you need to brush both front AND back, so my first batch wilted. The second was successful. They're pretty and a nice idea for something a wee bit different. Read how to crystallise flowers like the Victorians here. After deciding to make these I learned that the 15th wedding anniversary is the "crystal" anniversary, rather a nice coincidence.

Interesting also to read that in Victorian flower language the pansy/viola says "think of me." The French name for the flower, "pensee," means 'thought' and reflects this flower's modest request. Perhaps also mine.

Homecoming at the Cottage

It's always quite special for us when people who lived on Struan Farm, or their whanau, return to visit. At the end of last week Beryl Huia and her daughter Glenys came to stay. Beryl lives in Piopio, but wanted to come and overnight once again in the Cottage, where she lived with husband Tom and several children, including Glenys, when her husband worked on the farm for John's dad Maurie. Her husband was called "Young Tom" to avoid being confused with his father, "Old Tom." 

Beryl was able to describe to us how the Cottage was laid out in her day. She remembers having to learn to cook on the coal range, something she hadn't been familiar with coming down to the King Country from Auckland. She also remembers Jim Ngarama bringing her "puha," or watercress to eat, a food with which she hadn't been familiar. It was interesting to see several photos of the Cottage and the family.

We learned that Young Tom had been born in the Huia Homestead across the river, where we'd taken cuttings of what we now call the "Huia Fig Tree." And that Old Tom had also lived in the Cottage before the Robertsons bought the property, working for the Hunt family. Glenys went home with a few cuttings from the fig tree--we glad the Huia whanau has their fig back.

Welcome home Beryl and Glenys!

Happy Easter, However You Might Celebrate

John and I have very different approaches when it comes to celebrating holidays here at Struan Farm. It goes without saying that John has quite a bit more Scottish blood in him than I do in me, but you should be able to figure that one out.

Here's John:

Old school Cadbury creme eggs, one for each of us. And here's Karen: 

Home baked carrot cake with just a wee bit of Easter decoration, along with a leg of lamb to be roasted with potatoes and veg. Basically John's favourite meal on the planet. 

Happy Easter, however you might choose to celebrate!