Egg delivery gone wrong

November 14, 2009

I was carrying two dozen farm fresh eggs as I stepped up onto the train at Featherston station. It’s not what most people carry during their morning commute, but when you live in the country and work in the city as I do, you start doing strange things.

For example, just the other week I took a bell pepper plant (called a ‘capsicum’ here in Kiwiland) to the office. It’s now growing beautifully in a pot next to my desk. Perhaps I’m on a slippery slope. Soon I’ll be taking in live chickens and setting up chicken runs in the meeting rooms.

Featherston station

Featherston station

Anyway, on this particular day I had a very good reason to take two dozen eggs to work. Our four hens give Rick and me more eggs than we can possibly eat, so I was taking some to my co-workers. I felt like Little ‘Kiwi’ Riding Hood, merrily going to work with my country bounty.

But, of course, things didn’t exactly go according to plan.

I found a seat on the train, placed the eggs on the overhead shelf, and settled in for the 55 minute train ride.

Before I continue, let me admit to something of a character flaw. I can be forgetful. It’s always been this way. Perhaps even our geriatric rooster, Old Man Henry, has a better memory than me.

So, it wasn’t until I’d already walked the 15 minutes to my office and turned on my computer that I remembered the eggs, which I’d left on the overhead shelf.

I turned to my co-workers. “I brought you farm fresh eggs today.”

They ooh-ed and aah-ed appropriately, craning their necks to see where I might have put them. I’d been saying I was going to do this for weeks.

“And I left them on the train.”

They moaned loudly as though on cue. Lucky for me there were no farm fresh tomatos lying about at that point, or they would have thrown them at me.

Then someone said, “Why don’t you call Lost Property?”

Land of forgotten things

If you ever need to know, Ed is the guy at the Wellington Railway Station who is in charge of lost property. He has a low, rumbling voice, and when I called and told him I’d left two dozen eggs on the train, he audibly guffawed.

Eggs on the rocks

Eggs on the rocks

Then he said, “That’s a first.”

“So you don’t have them?” I asked.

“No. What train were you on?”

“The Wairarapa line.”

“Huh. That explains it.”

In Wellington city, ‘Wairarapa’ is synonymous with ‘the country.’ It seemed that, at least in Ed’s mind, someone leaving two dozen eggs on the Wairarapa train made much more sense than someone leaving them on, say, the suburban Johnsonville train.

After all, you never knew what those crazy country people get up to. You just might find a herd of cattle in the luggage car.

“What were they in?” Ed asked abruptly. “Box? Bag?”

I described my eggs: four egg containers of a half dozen each, all inside a white plastic grocery bag. For some reason – perhaps to distinguish these two dozen eggs from any others that might have been left on the train that morning – I added the fact that some of the eggs were blue.

“Blue?” Ed barked. “You can eat those?”

“Sure. They’re delicious.”

Ed harrumphed. Then he quickly explained that the cleaners hadn’t cleaned the Wairarapa train yet. “Call back later. See if they turned them in.”

I imagined hungry cleaners stealing my eggs. They’d have breakfast for weeks.

Calling back

When I called back that afternoon, Ed recognized my voice immediately – something I’ve noticed happens a lot more here than back in the States, no doubt because of my accent.

“It’s the egg guy,” Ed said warmly, as though he were greeting an old friend.

I was surprised by his friendliness. “That’s me. Any luck?”

“Got em right here,” Ed said. Then he paused. “Those blue eggs – they’re quite nice, aren’t they?”

Holding a bowl of eggs

Holding a bowl of eggs

Something had changed in Ed. Perhaps he’d been charmed by the sight of blue eggs. They are pretty magical, really.

“Yep,” I said. “They’re from a South American breed called Lavendar Aracauna. The chickens are grey with tufted feathers on their heads.”

“Well, you learn something new every day.”

Picking up the eggs

That evening I went to the train a couple minutes early so I could stop by the ‘Lost property’ desk and talk to Ed.

He was an older man, with buzz-cut grey hair. His uniform sleeves were rolled up sloppily, revealing thick forearms. I imagined he must have been a labourer on the tracks years ago, before he took this desk job.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Jared. I’m here for the eggs.”

He smiled as he got up slowly and turned to a table behind him. He grabbed my white plastic grocery bag and handed me my eggs.

As he pulled out a ledger for me to sign, he said, “I told my mates if you didn’t show I was going to have a fry up. Never ate blue eggs.” He was all laughter and warmth, jokes and smiles.

I opened the bag, took out two half-dozen containers, sorted them so one had nothing but blue eggs in it, and handed it to him. “Finders fee,” I said.

He paused, eyeing the box. “No.”

“Sure.” I pushed it toward him. I could tell he wanted those eggs.

He put out his broad hand and took them. “Thanks, matey.”

He smiled and waved, holding his eggs, as I left.

The co-workers would have to wait another day.


Saturday morning fire

November 7, 2009

Rick and Uncle Oscar went away on a trip and I woke up alone on a very cold Saturday morning, so I decided to build a fire. I had no idea that it would end in a moral dilemma and a nightmare.

Before moving to Martinborough, I had never relied on fire to heat my home. Growing up in suburban Detroit, our fireplace was for decoration. Heat came at the touch of a button.

Now heating our home involves touching trees – chopping, stacking, piling and lighting.  Read the rest of this entry »


The year there were no olives

October 31, 2009

The other day I took a walk through the olive grove to see how the trees are doing. It was comforting to see the small, green flower buds of spring. It isn’t always this way.

Sometimes olives groves don’t behave according to plan.  Read the rest of this entry »


The Moon makes headlines!

October 29, 2009

Local newspaper Wairarapa Times-Age ran an article on ‘Moon over Martinborough’ last week, and I was slapped on the front page, top right.

They asked me to pose for this picture – sitting awkwardly on our fence, pretending to do a blog post with the olive grove behind me and a bottle of our oil beside me. Read the rest of this entry »


Unruly chickens and the substitute teacher

October 24, 2009

I was standing at the kitchen sink and looking out the back window when I first saw our chickens sneaking into the backyard. I froze. They were headed straight for The Forbidden Zone.

It is a truth universally acknowledged that chickens untended get up to no good. Anyone who keeps chickens knows this. Given the chance, they’ll make a bee line towards the most freshly planted, unfenced patch of garden only to begin wreaking havoc with all the wild abandon of drunken sailors in a bar fight.  Read the rest of this entry »


Home for wayward agapanthus

October 17, 2009

We had two new help exchange volunteers staying with us, a Belgian and a Korean, and Rick asked them to do a very special job. “Dig out these agapanthus, divide them, and plant them in a long row along this line of trees.” Little did those unsuspecting volunteers know that in doing this work, they were contributing to one man’s slightly crazed and deeply disturbing obsession.

The next day, the Belgian and the Korean began digging.  Read the rest of this entry »


The day the water stopped

October 10, 2009

Rick and I had been living in the country for only a couple of months when Rick’s city friend Fiona came to visit. Fiona is like a graceful, exotic bird you feel compelled to pamper and adore, and Rick had promised her a relaxing country weekend far away from her stressful professional life. So it caused us great concern when, just hours after her arrival on Friday evening, our tap water suddenly stopped running.

I was in the kitchen preparing to cook dinner when I turned on the kitchen faucet and nothing came out. I checked the sink in the guest bathroom and found the same thing there.  Read the rest of this entry »


The Moon is NZ Site of the Month!

October 7, 2009

Moon over Martinborough has been named “New Zealand Site of the Month” in the October 2009 issue of NetGuide Magazine!

I was sitting at my computer at the government agency where I work when an email came in from someone in the Communications team telling me about it. Most of the people at work didn’t know I have a blog. They do now.  Read the rest of this entry »