celebration

Bountiful Berries–a Summer Celebration

/ Robinne Weiss / 1 Comment

In the past two weeks, we have picked and processed (or eaten) 26.6 kg of fruit. Mostly strawberries, raspberries, black currants, red currants and gooseberries, but also a few cherries and boysenberries.

I have run out of half-pint sized jam jars, which is fine, because when you’re making jam with over 6 kg of fruit, you really want to put it in larger jars for the sake of your own sanity. The freezer, too, is beginning to fill with fruit, some of which will be taken out through the summer to combine with later crops in chutneys.

Still, the fruit keeps coming. Honestly, you can hardly tell I’ve picked currants at all. The next two weeks will likely see me pick at least another 20 kg of fruit.

And then it will be largely over. Christmas usually marks the end of the insane early summer harvest. Heading into the new year, the blueberries will begin to ripen, and raspberries, strawberries and boysenberries will continue to come in. But the obscene overabundance of berries will be over for the year. 

Although it is exhausting, there’s something magical about the December berry rush. Eating your way through the garden, having fresh berries on your breakfast cereal every morning, cramming your lunch box with fruit. Making trifle and fresh fruit ice creams. And the days are long—you can fit in a lot of picking and processing of fruit. It’s not unusual for me to be finishing a batch of jam at 10 pm. After all, it’s still light out, surely there’s time to get it done today. Never mind the clock, or the fact that it’s light before 5 am, and I’ll be springing out of bed at first light to pick more fruit before the day heats up.

Can this much work be a celebration? It feels like it. I weed, water, mulch, fertilise and prune all year, and then for a month the berries pour out their thanks. The work to gather it up is full of joy. By the end of the month, I’ve stored berries for the year. In the dark days of June, I’ll be able to make black currant tarts and enjoy the sparkling taste of the summer solstice. 

Halloween–a time to be batty

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I’ve been folding origami bats this week in preparation for the trick-or-treaters who will be arriving at our door on the 31st. 

Although I can’t get into the Halloween spirit like I used to do in the northern hemisphere, I’ve decided Halloween in Kirwee is a chance to let my weird show.

Each year I write a poem on the driveway inviting trick-or-treaters to the door.

Of course I dress up. And I’m a stickler for the kids to be in costume too. If they show up at my door with no costume, I make them perform a trick for me.

I’ve had on-the-spot original rap performances, rugby moves, and songs. Some of my regulars now clearly prepare their trick in advance, whether they’re in costume or not.

I hand out candy, as is expected, but last year I gave one of my books for my favourite costume of the evening. The girl who got it was over the moon.

So this year I’ve leaned further into the weird. I wrote a special spooky story for kids, printed it (white on black) onto squares of paper, and folded the squares into bats to hand out along with the candy.

I hope the kids like my spooky story bats as much as I do!

Thankfulness

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Today is Thanksgiving in the United States. Since we’ve been in Aotearoa New Zealand, we don’t celebrate the holiday—who has a harvest festival in springtime? Add to the seasonal disconnect the dumpster fire that is world politics at the moment, and you could be forgiven for not feeling terribly thankful this Thanksgiving.

But it’s good to set aside all the frustrations in life (like the frost that has hit the vegetable seedlings every single night since our ‘frost free’ date), and reflect on the good things.

This Thanksgiving, I am thankful for a multitude of things …

  • My coworkers at my day job—teachers, teaching assistants, and support staff—who are all absolute legends, working under stressful conditions for lousy pay, usually without any recognition of the amazing work they do.
  • The fellow authors in various author communities I’m a part of, who are supportive of all writers and work together to support, encourage, and promote authors, books, and reading. You are rock stars!
  • The members of my local garden group, who share freely of their gardens, knowledge, and experience. You are inspiring!
  • My garden. Maybe it is weird to be thankful for it, because it doesn’t just happen—my husband and I have worked hard to turn this sad paddock into an oasis of food and flowers. But I am thankful for all the plants and soil organisms that have worked with us to make our efforts pay off.
  • My husband, who is my best friend, greatest fan, and partner in all things.
  • My kids, whose passion for the people and the world around them remind me that all is not lost yet.

Do you notice the pattern? It’s all about communities—of people, of living things. 

I don’t know what’s going to happen in the world over the next few years. Much of it will be pretty bad, I’m guessing. But there are communities around us working for good. There are people who want all our tamariki to be able to read, to have healthy food to eat, clean water to drink, health care and mental health support. There are people around us who don’t think in terms of ‘us’ and ‘them’, but embrace humanity as a whole, in all its diversity. There are people everywhere who care about the people and the world around them.

I am so thankful that these people exist. I am thankful to be part of some of the communities who put this caring into practice in their daily lives. 

So, while the world burns around us, I give thanks for the small communities that work tirelessly to put out the fires.

A Seasonal Celebration of Food

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The traditional Christmas celebrations and decorations involving twinkling lights, snowflakes, snowmen, warm drinks and roaring fires make no sense here in Aotearoa New Zealand. But there’s plenty to celebrate at this time of year.

I always know it’s time to start thinking about the holidays when the strawberries and gooseberries ripen. I know it’s time to decorate when I can stroll through the garden, grazing on peas, gooseberries, raspberries, boysenberries and strawberries. When I can fill a colander with red and black currants. When the supermarket fruit begins to look old and nasty by comparison to what’s tumbling off the bushes at home. When it’s hard not to pick too much lettuce for the day’s salad.

Food is an important part of holiday celebrations, and for me half the celebration is the ability to eat my way through the garden. Finally in December, picking vegetables for dinner doesn’t feel like scrounging for whatever’s left from the winter crops. At some point during the month, the question of ‘what is there to cook for dinner’ shifts to ‘what needs to be eaten today’ (or processed and preserved). Jam making is my Christmas ‘baking’. Fresh berries replace the traditional bowl of mixed nuts put out for munching. Fruit ice creams and cordials are our figgy pudding and wassail. 

As we make our way toward the summer solstice, the long days provide plenty of daylight for picking and processing fruit. And because it’s the Christmas season, those long days (and nights) in the garden and kitchen feel more like a celebration than a chore.

Is there holiday stress because of the increase in garden work? You bet—I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat in the car, bucket between my knees, shelling peas on the way to the beach so I can get the work done and still have time for fun stuff. And keeping up with the weeds is a struggle while many of the vegetables are still small. Then there’s the inevitable broken tap or pierced irrigation line you find the first time you need to water (which usually happens this month). And the constant struggle with the thieving birds, who want to partake of the garden’s bounty, too.

We may not have snow, but the kānuka flowers are a spectacular substitute.

But overall, the holiday season is a time to celebrate the garden’s summer bounty. It’s a time of fresh fruit and vegetables, and long days outdoors. Next week marks the end of my work year, with schools letting out for summer, and this weekend will be my first jam-making weekend of the season. Let the celebrations begin!

Salad Trifecta

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Holiday cooking is always special. And with the holidays falling during the summer here, it’s easy to create stunning meals without a trip to the grocery store.

For Christmas Day, I made homemade linguini, and my husband topped it with a delicious selection of garden vegetables—a fabulous, festive meal.

But Boxing Day’s dinner sort of blew Christmas Day out of the water.

It was a simple meal. Just three salads.

A potato salad made with purple potatoes, sparked up with celery, spring onion, parsley, and homemade pickles.

An Ottolenghi-inspired roasted cauliflower salad made with purple and white cauliflower and toasted walnuts. A dressing of vinegar, oil, maple syrup, cinnamon and allspice added complexity to the flavours, and fresh red currants added crunch and zing.

A fruit salad made with the many fruits gushing from the garden these days.

The overall effect was a riot of colour and flavour. Best of all, nearly everything came from the garden. Holiday meals don’t get much better than that.

Ghosts of Christmas Past

/ Robinne Weiss / 1 Comment

Christmas day dinner–no cooking required.

Much of the world has entered the holiday season under the threat of Covid. Holiday gatherings, a highlight for many, are necessarily smaller or cancelled altogether.

For some, a Christmas without parties and large family gatherings will seem … well, not like Christmas at all. 

I’ve been thinking about this as I talk to my family about their holiday plans, and there’s a lot of similarity in what they are going through to what my husband and I have gone through as expats. We’re used to holidays far from parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts, uncles and cousins. We know how the ghosts of family-filled Christmases past haunt the table set for two on Christmas eve. We’ve learned how to fill the holidays with meaning even if we can’t fill them with loved ones. I imagine most other expats have done the same.

It occurred to me that the lessons we’ve learnt are applicable to those stuck at home due to Covid. So here are some musings on how we’ve navigated (and come to love) solo holidays.

  • Treat yourself the way you’d treat guests. Do you usually make a special dinner Christmas Day? Cook it for your household, even if that’s only two people. Do you stay up late partying to ring in the new year? Well, put on the stereo and dance, no matter how few you are.
  • If the previous idea raises too many ghosts for you, create new ‘traditions’ instead. Throw out the holiday rulebook. Instead of a party, go for a hike with your household. Instead of buying a live tree, get creative and make one with your immediate family out of whatever’s lying around the house. Instead of a formal meal in the dining room, have pizza and popcorn while watching a movie on the couch. The more different the new tradition, the less likely those Christmas ghosts will show up. Just make the new plan as much of a treat as the old (not simply your usual routine). 
  • Dress up. Staying home? Put your party clothes on anyway. It will make the day feel special, even if all you do is lie around reading books.
  • Share with family and friends far away. This is so much easier today than it was 27 years ago when my husband and I had our first Christmas overseas. Then, I wrote letters describing our Christmas punch and mailed photos of our tiny Christmas tree. These days, we share via telephone, Skype, Zoom and FaceTime. It’s not the same as being there, I know, but I am thankful for the opportunities we have to be ‘together’ for the holidays.
  • Focus on what you can gain, not what you’re losing. Quiet time with your partner and/or children. Time alone to do what you want, not what the whole gang wants. Freedom from the intense cooking, cleaning and planning that go into hosting holiday events. A chance to re-think your holiday traditions. A reprieve from that loud uncle who always drinks too much and starts talking politics … I’m sure there are plenty of things you’ll happily miss out on this year.

No question about it, this year’s holiday is going to be different from normal for most people. But that doesn’t mean it has to be bad. Make the most of the opportunities to try something different this year. Who knows? Maybe something you do this year will become part of your holiday traditions for years to come.

Giving Thanks in 2020

/ Robinne Weiss / 2 Comments

Thankful for these glorious blue peas with their cheerful flowers.

Thanksgiving is this week in the US and, while we don’t celebrate Thanksgiving here, I do always still pause and reflect on what I’m grateful for. This year, it feels doubly important to focus on the good things. 

So here are just a few of the things on my Thanksgiving list:

  • Top of the list this year has to be all the Kiwis who have responded with maturity and community spirit to the challenges thrust upon us this year. I am truly proud to be a New Zealander this year, and I’m thankful to be here, where our collective action has allowed us freedom and safety much of the world doesn’t have. 
  • Friends and colleagues who have encouraged those around them to approach Covid-19 as a challenge to develop creative ways to continue to pursue dreams, rather than as a disaster to be lamented.
  • I know I’ve mentioned it before, but I’m still incredibly thankful for our new house. It still often feels like I’m living in someone else’s home, but it is a joy to cook in the new kitchen and to live in a well-insulated building.
  • This time of year, while not exactly traditional harvest time, is rich in early summer fruits and vegetables. Though our new garden is quite young, and the soil is truly terrible, we’re still harvesting good food, and I’m thankful for what we are able to produce.
  • I’m especially thankful this year for my husband and children, who have approached all of this year’s many stressors with good humour, fortitude, and a willingness to pitch in and do what needs to be done.
  • I am more than usually grateful this year for technology which has made the pandemic far less isolating than it would otherwise have been.
  • As always, I’m thankful for the proximity of beach, river and mountain. This year, even more than other years, the natural world has been a solace, and I’m thankful to have relatively wild areas within walking distance.
  • The luxury of time. There’s no question that being in lockdown in a cold shed was awful. I look back on those months and wonder how we survived with our good humour intact. At the same time, having that intense time to spend with close family was something wonderful. We invented stupid games to pass the time and stay warm, we went on looooooong walks together, we sat and talked over the state of the world. I am grateful to have had that time.

There are dozens of other things I could put on my list—big things and little. It’s a year in which thankfulness has been a gift all of its own. I am thankful to be thankful for so much, in spite of the crazy year it’s been.

What are you thankful for?