In these stressful times, I find the garden is the best place to be. Join me for a walk around the garden this morning.
New Zealand
Casey Saddle — Binser Saddle Route
My husband and I got a jump on the long holiday weekend, taking off on Friday to head to the mountains for our first tramping trip since last autumn. Knowing we’d be out of shape after winter, we chose the Casey Saddle — Binser Saddle route in Arthur’s Pass National Park, which is a long (41 km) overnighter, but relatively unchallenging. I’d done the Binser Saddle as a day hike years ago, and my husband had done the Casey Saddle as a day hike, but neither of us had done the full circuit.
So off we went Friday morning. Low cloud on the plains gave way to the most stunning day—clear skies and no wind.
The track starts with a relatively gentle climb up Andrews Valley through beech forest. There are some lovely big red beech among the mountain beech. The forest opens up through Hallelujah Flat, where there are mats of my favourite lichen, the coral lichen, Pulchrocladia retipora.
The scrub-covered Casey Saddle gives way to more beech forest, and then a weird and wonderful semi-open patch of stunted trees and shrubs.
Back in the forest, the track drops to Casey Hut, on the Poulter River.
Casey Hut is only six years old, rebuilt after the old hut burnt down in 2015. It’s the first of the new solar powered huts I’ve stayed in. I have to say that, while the hut is very nice, and I totally understand why DOC is installing solar lighting in new huts, I almost missed the candles and head torches of the usual hut experience.
We had a lovely evening hanging out with a party of four at the hut. As always, we had fun, wide-ranging conversations, discovered several common acquaintances, and reminisced about previous tramping trips. It was the best of hut experiences.
Despite a brand new hut with plenty of space, we chose to sleep in the tent, where we always sleep better. It was such a gorgeous night, we didn’t even put the rain fly up. Weka and ruru called during the night, but the trees overhead provided most of the night music—creaking and clacking in the breeze that kicked up in the evening.
Saturday morning, we were back on the trail before 7 am under another stunning blue sky. A three-hour slog down the Poulter River was fast, easy walking, but fairly dull. After crossing Pete Stream, we scrambled up a series of three bluffs out of the Poulter River bed and began the ascent over Binser Saddle.
I remembered Binser Saddle as being a bit of a slog the first time I did it. It was, but it was also more interesting than I remembered. The saddle itself is rather magical, with a relatively open forest and moss-covered ground. It was the perfect, restful lunch spot.
The descent to Mount White Road from Binser Saddle is relatively straightforward and quick, with a few short steep sections. But then there was the 2 km slog along the road back to the car—not a great way to end a hike. In hindsight, we should have parked at the Binser Saddle end and done the road walking at the beginning, just to avoid the road as the last bit of the day.
Overall, it was an enjoyable hike through classic beech forest and open river beds, but not one I need to repeat. It was a good way to ease back into the hiking season.







Stop and Smell the Daffs
There’s a blast of winter forecast to blow in overnight, so I thought I should enjoy the blue sky day while I could. Ignoring all items on my to-do list, I had a wander around the garden …










Spring 2026: A review
I acquired my copy of this year’s spring season a week and a half ago, and so far it has performed largely as advertised. Spring 2026 has opened with the appropriate day length, and a healthy mix of sun and rain, so the basics are well covered.
The daffodils have begun blooming, although it remains to be seen just how spectacular they will become. The signs are promising.
The pea and lettuce seedlings have also grown as expected for Spring, though the performance of the onions has been a bit of a disappointment.
The birds of Spring 2026 are abundant and noisy. Lots of house sparrows, which I know are cheap filler, like the peanuts in nut mixes (probably my fault for not buying the Deluxe Edition). But there have been some excellent white-faced herons, a few little owls, and a generous number of paradise shelducks. The pīwakawaka of Spring 2026 are also abundant and extra cheeky. Good value for money there.
Though I haven’t had this version of Spring for long, I am concerned about the abundance of wasps and the lack of honeybees. I hope that as the Spring progresses, these issues sort themselves out.
And of course, I wish there were a pollen-free version of Spring on offer. I would definitely buy that over the current model.
Overall, Spring 2026 is a reasonably solid, if somewhat average edition of the season.
Rate your experience:
★ ★ ★ ★☆
A Solstice Reckoning
If you’ve been following my blog over the past year, you’ll know that my husband and I have been engaged in a little project to record everything we harvest from the garden for an entire year—winter solstice to winter solstice.
Well, we passed the solstice earlier this week, and with it, our project has come to a close. My husband, data wrangler extraordinaire, did some calculations and created a graph of our harvest to help us visualise and understand our data (see below).
Some quick takeaways from the data:
- We harvested a total of 771 kg of food (91 different crops) from the garden over the past year!
- Our largest crop was pumpkins, at 115 kg.
- We picked a whopping 97 kg of tomatoes over a 7-month-long season.
- Our chooks laid 1047 eggs weighing a total of 53 kg!
- Although I tried to be reasonable when planting zucchini, we still harvested 51 kg of them.
- We harvested 40 kg of sweet corn after a terrible, late start to the season.
- Our smallest crop was saffron—dried, the entire year’s harvest weighed less than 1 gram.
What an amazing year!
I’m not sure I fully grasped the sheer volume of food our garden produces, and I certainly didn’t think I’d be tallying up nearly 800 kg of food from this property six years ago when we arrived on what was then an absolutely stripped and sterile piece of land. It’s amazing what a lot of hard work and tonnes of manure can accomplish in six years!
I don’t know the monetary value of the year’s produce, but it hardly matters. The garden has fed us like royalty all year. Provided us food of a quality money can’t buy, not to mention all the weird and wonderful crops and varieties we grow that never appear in the grocery store and simply aren’t available unless you grow them yourself. In addition, I’ve given away countless eggs, zucchini, cucumbers, pumpkins, currants, quince, and more, helping to feed those around us as well.
Eat your heart out, Elon Musk! Your trillion cannot possibly give you as much joy as my 771 kg of fresh produce.

Annual Geekout at Cass
Last weekend marked the 2026 Cass Mountain Research Station bioblitz.
Twenty-four enthusiastic naturalists participated in the weekend—a mix of university students, former students and faculty, and others like me, with ties to those students and faculty. A great mix of expertise and enthusiasm.
The weather was gorgeous—sunny and calm. On Saturday, the group I was with followed a maze of pig trails out towards the northernmost tip of the research station, where the Cass River meets the Waimakariri River. Then we climbed the ridge to the top of Cass Hill. Along the way, our group recorded a variety of lichens, mosses, fungi, native and exotic plants, and insects. We scared up a pair of pigs, and watched a harrier lazily circle the ridge above us.
We returned to the research station, scratched and sweaty, in the late afternoon to find it buzzing with the enthusiasm of our fellow naturalists returning from their own adventures.
Throughout the afternoon and evening, people shared photographs, examined specimens under the microscopes, and debated about identifications as we started to log our observations on iNaturalist.
By the end of the evening, we’d already passed our goal of increasing the total number of species recorded at Cass to 1000.
On Sunday, I decided on a mission to find stick insects. There is only one record of a stick insect at Cass, from 2021, and they have not been recorded at the previous bioblitzes. I am convinced they’re more common than the records would suggest, because they are easily overlooked. They also have an irritating tendency to hang out in the forest canopy, far out of reach.
In other locations, I’ve had good luck finding stick insects on forest edges, where the canopy is lower, and stick insects hang out at eye height. So I took a beating tray and a few other participants willing to tolerate my obsession, and slowly crept along the shrubby forest edges, peering at foliage and shaking branches.
Alas, I found not a single stick insect, although I did record some lovely little spiders, a beautiful moth, and a few interesting plants. Undaunted, I will try again next time. The creatures are out there, I know.
Indeed, lots of living things are out there at Cass. Every time we’ve had a bioblitz, we’ve set what seems like an ambitious goal for recording new species at the research station. And every time, we blow our goal out of the water. In 2023, we were thrilled to exceed 500 species. In 2025, we sailed past 800. Last weekend, we added an amazing 119 new species to the list of life at Cass, bringing the total number of observed species there to 1093.
The more you look, the more you see.
Unfortunately, I fear many of the native species at Cass are at risk. The population of feral pigs at the research station has exploded in recent years. Five or ten years ago, pig damage was confined to certain areas, but today there’s barely a square metre of the station not impacted by the rooting of pigs. Other mammals, too, have an impact on the native flora and fauna—rats, stoats and possums are all present there.
My worry was shared by many over the weekend, and we dreamed collectively of a predator fence around the station, combined with intensive pig, stoat, possum, and rat control. What a jewel the station could become! I wonder what our Bioblitz species counts would be like ten or twenty years after effective mammal control?
For now, Cass Mountain Research Station remains as an incredible resource for scientists and others to study and explore. Our bioblitzes show there’s much out there to be learned.




Short walks on the Banks Peninsula
Last weekend, my husband and I spent a day on the Banks Peninsula doing three short walks we hadn’t done before.
Our first stop was Hay Reserve in Pigeon Bay. This short, family-friendly track circles through lowland old growth podocarp forest. It’s a slice of what the whole peninsula would have been like before human colonisation. Huge kahikatea and tōtara, supplejack looping through the branches, cabbage trees and ferns—so dense at spots, I almost wanted a head torch despite the bright sky overhead. If you’re a fan of big trees, Hay Reserve is a fantastic stroll.
Our next stop was Ellangowan Scenic Reserve, on Hickory Bay Road. Though poorly signed, it’s not difficult to find the track. It follows a two-track to a rocky ridge, with a fabulous 360-degree view of the peninsula, then drops back down through a beautiful patch of bush that includes some very old, though dwarfed native trees. Lower down, massive red beeches punctuate the forest. Just 2.4 km long, the track has it all—forest, views, rock scrambling. Definitely worth a visit if you’re out that way.
Finally, we popped over to Akaroa, where we walked the Children’s Bay Walkway (with a detour to the creek waterfall). I can’t believe we’ve never done this walk (it would have been great when the kids were younger). The out-and-back, well-maintained track winds through a patchwork of farmland and forest. The creek waterfall was minimalist on the day we visited, but magical nonetheless. The really special thing about the walkway isn’t the landscape, though, but the fabulous sculptures along the way. No spoilers, but there are surprising creatures all the way to the end.
All three of these walks are relatively short and easy (though the Ellangowan Reserve track requires a bit of confidence on the ridge), and the three together made for a fun day, which naturally ended with a beer and chips in Akaroa.

Autumn Garden Assessment
First week in April, and instead of having the heat pump on, I’m sitting here with all the windows open, because this year has been weird, weather-wise. It’s made for a challenging gardening year.
Last weekend, I brought in the last of the pumpkins and potatoes. I picked the popcorn, and I processed a heap of sweet corn. The garden is looking bare, though there’s still lots of vegetables coming out of it.
I thought it was time for my annual post-harvest assessment.
The weather was challenging for the spring crops, because it got summer-hot in November/December. Though I kept the garden well watered, the spring crops didn’t stand a chance. The pea harvest was marginal—enough for fresh eating, but not for freezing. Despite several plantings, I never did get spinach to grow—it bolted before I’d even planted out the seedlings. And the broccoli raab and pak choi bolted so fast, we never ate either of them—they went directly to the chickens.
I thought we were in good shape for the heat-loving crops, but in mid-December, summer seemingly ended. It got cool and rainy. There were some warm days, but they were few and far between. The tomatoes, eggplants and peppers languished. Powdery mildew cut down half my zucchini plants in February. I fought slugs, slaters and mould as tomatoes and peppers rotted before ripening. Beans rotted wherever they touched the ground. And aphids were rampant all year on all sorts of plants—the predators couldn’t keep up.
All in all, it was a challenging summer.
We ate well (and still are), and the larder is full of food, but it was hard-won.
Things that did surprisingly well:
- The volunteer pumpkins—the pumpkins I actually planted were marginal and were nailed by powdery mildew. But the two volunteer pumpkins—out on their own with good air flow around them—did well. One of them, in particular, was the most spectacular plant I’ve ever seen—the plant itself was enormous, and it produced 17 pumpkins with a total weight of 41.6 kg!
- Rosella tomatoes—This black cherry tomato has been my favourite for flavour since I began planting it a few years ago. This year it proved itself as a tenacious variety, producing decently in both greenhouses and out in the garden, where most of the tomatoes languished.
- Sweet corn—The corn got a terrible start, with poor germination and uneven growth. In mid-January, I expected to get no corn harvest. But somehow, the plants shot up after that, evened out, tasselled, and produced a gorgeous crop of big ears. Every single plant has at least two nice ears on it, and some plants have managed three. I honestly have no idea how it happened, but I’ll take the win.
- Nutri-purple carrots—I’ve struggled for decades to grow nice, big purple carrots. This was my first try with the variety Nutri-purple, and they were fantastic. Long roots, healthy growth, and no aphids (the aphids were usually the downfall of other purple varieties I’ve tried).
Things that did poorly:
- Window Box Red tomatoes—usually these little plants produce bumper crops in the pots in front of the house, but every one of them expired quickly in the cold this year, without producing a single fruit.
- Fantastico tomatoes—This was a new cherry tomato variety for me this year, and I found the plants to be unmanageable (large sprawling plants that resisted any sort of pruning or training), slow to ripen, and not terribly tasty. At the moment, the fruits are finally ripening, but because it’s cool and wet, and the plants are sprawled on the ground, the slugs and slaters are getting most of them.
Of course, the gardening season never really ends here, and while we continue to eat the remaining summer crops, the winter crops are happily growing. I look forward to tallying up the full year’s production in a few months. Stay tuned for the final tally!
Happy Equinox!
Here we are at the autumnal equinox! Hard to believe my garden year is three-quarters over. But the days are feeling very short, and the vegetable garden is slowing down.
Despite the short days and cool weather, the harvest is really just getting going. I picked over 64 kg of pumpkins last weekend, and there are more to bring in. I’ve been harvesting dry beans for weeks, and will continue for another few weeks as they mature on the plants. Most haven’t been weighed in yet, because they’re still drying, but I’ve recorded over 4 kg so far, and I estimate my final total will be around 10 kg.
Sweet corn is at its peak at the moment, and one of these days soon, I’ll be picking and freezing a whole lot, because we can’t keep up with it, despite having corn on the cob pretty much every day for dinner (it’s a rough life…).
The popcorn still has a few weeks of maturing on the plant before it will be ready to harvest, and there are still two apple trees and a pear awaiting harvest.
Meanwhile, the summer crops continue to trickle in at a pace to keep us feasting.
In total so far, since the winter solstice, the garden has given us over 526 kilograms of fruit and vegetables and 490 eggs.
Having not bought vegetables in about 20 years, I was curious about the monetary value of our garden, so I checked the prices of a few of the currently in-season vegetables at the grocery store. I was, quite frankly, shocked at how expensive fresh vegetables have become.
Some quick calculations …
Our garden has (so far) produced this year:
- $388 worth of zucchini
- $348 worth of tomatoes
- $379 worth of potatoes
- $30 worth of onions
- $235 worth of pumpkin
- $60 worth of chilli peppers
- $192 worth of green beans
- $287 worth of garlic
- $47 worth of carrots
And most of these calculations are based on the price of conventionally grown (not organic) vegetables, because organic options weren’t available at the store.
Just that short list of vegetables adds up to over $2000, and it doesn’t include any of the expensive berry fruits we produce. And, of course, it doesn’t take into account that we grow things that you simply can’t buy in the grocery store—delicious, but non-commercial crops like ugniberries and quince, heirloom tomatoes that can’t survive shipping, colourful carrot varieties. Add to that the fact that our vegetables have been off the plant for minutes when we cook them, versus days or weeks for the sad specimens in the grocery store, and it is clear that the value of our garden can’t be measured by an instrument as blunt as price. Still, it’s good to know that the hundreds of dollars I spend each year on seeds, pea straw, and other garden supplies are more than paid back in food.
Just three months to go to complete our garden year. The tally continues as delicious fruit and vegetables roll in!
Happy autumn (or spring, if you’re in the northern hemisphere)!
February in the Garden
We’ve had an overabundance of rain this summer, and not nearly enough heat and sunshine for many of the summer vegetables. Slugs and slaters are running rampant, and fungal pathogens are making an early appearance.
Still, it takes more than too much rain to suppress the exuberance of late summer. The dahlias are blooming, the sweet corn and tomatoes are ripening, and the pears and apples are heavy on the trees. I picked over 40 kilograms of potatoes on Sunday, and we’ve been freezing tons of pasta sauce. It is a time of abundance, despite the summer’s setbacks.
So, I invite you to enjoy my late-summer garden with me on one of our few beautiful sunny days.











