Postcard From New Zealand

January 16, 2017 / Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

We spent the day yesterday at the beach (along with the entire population of Canterbury and half a million tourists, judging by the crowds). It was a stellar beach day–hot and sunny. Perhaps a bit too windy at times, but heat and wind are almost inseparable here, so we just go with it. We managed to slip away from the crowds for a while by clambering over the rocks to Little Okains Bay. The water was cold, the sand was hot, the rock pools teemed with cool creatures, and the scenery was stunning, as usual.

The entire day was a full-colour glossy tourism ad for New Zealand. And it was just one of many similar days we’ve experienced recently.

I’m not saying that every day is a vacation–I put in 11-hour workdays (painstaking editing) all last week, and I pull a lot of weeds and have to clean the house and the chicken coop every week–but New Zealand does vacationing well.

All day, I kept coming back to one, glorious, humbling, beautiful thought–this is my home. My family and I are so blessed to have been welcomed into this amazing country. A place where we can stand on the top of a mountain one weekend, and swim in the ocean the next weekend. A place where Christmas/summer vacation lingers through the entire month of January; even once many people are back at work, the vacation mindset remains. A place that embraces a weird and wonderful mix of people from all over the world.

New Zealand has its problems–no human society doesn’t–but I feel honoured to be allowed to make my home here in such an incredibly beautiful place among such incredibly beautiful people.

So you all my Kiwi readers–thank you.

And to all my overseas readers–having a great time. Wish you were here.

Vigilance

November 17, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

Will we wake up to this tomorrow?

I watched the weather forecast closely this week. The week after plant out, when all the frost tender vegetables are newly planted, is when it usually happens.

A day of cold southerly rain, bringing much-needed moisture. The rain is good, and the low daytime temperatures won’t damage the plants.

But somehow, those rain clouds always blow away as the sun sets. The wind dies, and the air grows still as the temperature plummets.

The weather forecasts rarely predict these frosts, but I’ve learned to look out for them.

Today, as the clouds broke just in time for a spectacular rainbow before sunset, I knew the garden would be in trouble before dawn.

I pulled out all the frost cloth I own, and as the light faded, covered as many tender plants as I could. At this point, I can’t possibly cover them all, but I can strategically save those I would be most sorry to lose, and those that are most sensitive to frost.

Before dawn I will be in the garden again checking for frost. If I’m lucky, there will be none. If I’m unlucky, I’ll spend the early hours hosing down the plants I couldn’t cover in the hopes of saving them.

The strategy works…mostly. But just one frost at this time of year can change the landscape in the garden and the food choices we have through the next twelve months. It pays to be vigilant.

Rain

November 7, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

I wake
To the sound of rain.

It is not morning.

It is the rain
That has dragged me from sleep.

No.

Not dragged.

It has nudged me awake
Accidentally
Like my husband does
When he comes to bed
(Night owl that he is,
And me an early riser).

Like my husband,
The rain has lain down beside me.
A comfort,
Knowing he is there,
Knowing the rain is there
Watering the garden,
Making the grass grow in the paddock,
Tamping down the dust.

Crowded House

October 22, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

Last night the temperature dipped to -1°C. Fortunately, it had been forecast, so I pulled all the tender plants out of the greenhouse and into the heated office for the night.

It was a truly glorious sight—the seed shelves full of just-sprouting cucurbits and corn, and the floor carpeted in tomatoes, eggplants, peppers, and basil plants.

I look forward to getting all those tender plants back out to the greenhouse—I can’t even walk through the office, let alone work in there at the moment—but it was fun to have all the plants together for a photo shoot.

Heating the Greenhouse DIY

October 18, 2016October 17, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

I wish I had a heated greenhouse. I start my seeds in my office, which has decent light and can be heated at night to help heat-loving seeds germinate and keep tender seedlings from freezing.

But at some point, the plants have to go to the greenhouse or they’ll get hopelessly leggy. Besides, there’s not enough room in the office for all my seedlings, once I really get going in spring.

The greenhouse is great for raising daytime temperatures for the plants and for protecting them from harsh wind. It also protects the plants from light frosts, but sometimes the temperature dips below zero at night, and then the unheated greenhouse can’t protect my plants enough.

If I know the temperature will dive, I can haul all the plants back to my office just for the night, but it’s quite a job—several trips with the wheelbarrow—and always results in some plants getting damaged.

So I’ve gone for passive solar heating in the greenhouse. I had my daughter paint empty 3-litre juice bottles black, and I filled them with water and placed them around the greenhouse. During the day, the water in the bottles heats up, and at night, the bottles slowly release their heat.

Having only one greenhouse, I haven’t been able to scientifically test whether my hot water bottles help, but last year—the first year I deployed the bottles—I was impressed by how well the plants weathered cold nights in the greenhouse. I intend to expand the number of bottles this year, and would love to ring the entire outer edge of the greenhouse with water bottles. If all goes well, I’ll end up with my heated greenhouse, without actually heating my greenhouse.

Here we go again…

October 16, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

It’s a sight to strike fear in my heart.

October 16^th and the temperature hit 30°C (86°F) and humidity is 33%.

Thirty degrees is supposed to be a height –of-summer oddity. It’s the day you drop everything and head to the beach, because there are only a handful of days this warm in a summer.

Except that it’s the middle of spring.

And this happened last year.

And the year before.

And it heralds a third year of drought for us.

A third year of deciding which plants will be watered (and survive), and which ones will not (and probably die).

It will be a third year of expensive hay that has to be brought in for the goats, because the grass will brown off in November.

A third year in which the vegetable seedlings grow too fast too early, then struggle to set fruit in the dry heat.

Just thinking about it makes me grim.

But I suppose it also means a summer of incredible hot days at the beach. A summer in which I don’t need a wetsuit to enjoy the ocean. A summer of ice cream and swimming.

I enjoy these things. I really do. It’s a good thing they come along with drought. If I go to the beach, I can ignore the shrivelling garden at home…sort of.

Spring Roller Coaster

October 10, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

rollercoaster_expedition_geforce_holiday_park_germany

Photo: Boris23; Wikimedia, public domain

The kids are back at school today after two weeks of school holidays. It’s the last term of the school year, and the start of what I always think of as a roller coaster ride.

For the past two weeks we’ve been slowly climbing the first hill. I could hear the tik-tik-tik of the chain winching us up, to perch at the top of the slope. Today we begin the descent to the end of the year. It will start slowly—I’ll be lulled into thinking I have plenty of time to do the gardening, get all the nagging spring DIY done, think about Christmas gifts, plan summer’s vacations. But before I know it, we’ll be hurtling along toward the end of the year, much faster than I anticipated. The garden will take longer that I’d hoped. The end-of-the-year school activities will start piling up. I’ll put off worrying about Christmas gifts until I’m frantic about it. Three DIY projects will balloon into ten. Late frost will keep me scrambling to protect plants. Livestock will get sick and require extra care. School will end much sooner than I’d like it to.

Time will compress. A month will be over in a week. A week will last a day. A day will be over in a blink of the eye.

Before I know it, we’ll be heading into the week before Christmas, and my Spring to-do list will be every bit as long as it is today.

I’ve learned to accept this state. I’ve almost learned to enjoy the frenetic insanity of the combination of the end of the school year, holidays, and spring gardening all at once.

But every year I sit here at the top of the roller coaster wondering if I really should have gotten on in the first place.

The Last Hurrah

September 7, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / 3 Comments

We’re a week into spring, but winter wanted a farewell party, I suppose. The wind is howling and the rain falls sideways. Hail scatters like buckshot off the windows. The power has been out once already this evening, and we’re all expecting it to go off again.

But it’s September. We know this won’t last. We know that, no matter how cold the wind might blow, when the sun comes out tomorrow, it will be warm on our faces. We can, instead, enjoy the comforts of winter one last time—a blazing fire, a cup of tea, an excuse to do nothing but curl up with a book.

Farewell winter. See you next year.

Happy Spring!

September 1, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / Leave a comment

I don’t need the calendar to tell me it’s spring. I know it’s spring because…

The daffodils are blooming.

The office is full of plants.

The fruit trees are budding up.

Artichokes!

The grass needs mowing.

The weeds are out of control.

The wind blows hard from the northwest.

The dandelions are blooming.

Throw the Windows Open

June 29, 2016 / Robinne Weiss / 4 Comments

Until we moved to New Zealand, I would have laughed at the idea of opening the windows and doors in mid-winter. When it’s well below zero, a fresh breeze through the house isn’t exactly welcome.

Somehow here, the idea of a fresh breeze through the house at any time of year is welcome.

It helps that the climate is warm—there’s never a day that remains below freezing, even in the depths of winter. But even so, I noted after I flung the house open today that the outside temperature is only 11°C (52°F). I’m sure I never opened the windows at that temperature in Minnesota or Pennsylvania.

Of course, in Minnesota and Pennsylvania, the windows never ran with moisture. Puddles didn’t form on the windowsills every morning (in MN, it was ice, but that’s another story). The winter air here is warm enough to hold plenty of moisture, and without central heating to dry out the air, it can get pretty damp indoors. A couple of hours of a brisk breeze on a sunny afternoon can do wonders for the indoor humidity.

Perhaps that’s part of what I like about living here—the opportunity to invite the outdoors in, even during the wintertime.

As Horace Everett wrote (to Aaron Copland’s music): Stomp your foot upon the floor / Throw the windows open / Take a breath of fresh June air and dance around the room.