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Daisies in the garden
Nothing is normal at our house. Even a simple dinner party comes alive with bizarre and friendly characters.
The reason for our most recent dinner party was simple. The neighborhood was crawling with Americans.
I was pulling out the wine glasses when our neighbors John and Aussie Brownyn arrived that night. John has taught me how to prune vines and Aussie Bronwyn taught me how to kill a chicken. I have a lot of respect and admiration for them both.
That week they had an American staying with them, and so did Rick and I. It was a great excuse to get everyone together. It doesn’t take much around here.
Our American, TJ, was setting the table. John and Aussie Bronwyn’s American, Lily, was walking in just behind them.
These surplus Americans were actually helpers – volunteer travelers who were working on our properties in exchange for room and board. We’ve hosted volunteers from all over, including Chicago, Newcastle, and Tokyo. There’s always a lot to do on a rural property, and the help is invaluable. Plus, you get to meet really nice people.
TJ had arrived a couple days before. He’s a courteous, 18-year-old ex-Mormon who grew up on a sheep farm in Wyoming. He was repairing fences in order to put an end to our recent bout of farm animal escapes.
Lily is a 71 year old Californian with round glasses and a little grey bob. She was helping John and Aussie Bronwyn with cleaning and weeding.
Strong American accent
“I have presents for you!” Lily yelled – or at least that’s how her boisterous American voice sounded to me. In fact, she wasn’t yelling. This was just her American accent. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around an American accent this strong, and it actually took me aback.
But she charmed me immediately. She might be 71, but she’s got the spirit of a 17 year old. “Wine and cheese!” she announced, and pulled out a bottle of Martinborough Pinot Noir and some double cream brie. “And a mystery present!” She handed me a small, carefully wrapped item.
Inside was a tiny fork with three prongs whose points made a triangle. It was too big to be an olive fork, and too small for anything else.
“Well, thank you,” I said. “What is it?”
“Nobody knows!” She threw her hands up in the air. “Not even me! But it’s yours now!”
Next our Kiwi artist friends Leelee and The Wolf arrived. They live closer towards the Martinborough village and have an olive grove of their own. Leelee is also a fellow writer, and under the name Leanne French she writes fantastic articles about relationships and self care for national magazines.
How lucky was I to have all these incredible people in my home, ready to share a meal?
Wattle trees in the bottom paddock
We stood around the kitchen island that is the heart of this house and we chatted, drank the local wine, and tasted delicious things. Lily’s cheese. John’s honeyed walnuts (honey from his hives and walnuts from their trees). Two kinds of home-pickled olives (my garlic-lemon ones and Leelee and The Wolf’s beautiful brined ones.) So many amazing things.
Then, to top it all off, we dipped the amazing gluten-free focaccio that Bronwyn had baked (and which caused even the gluten eaters to oooh and ahhh) into the fresh olive oil from our three groves. We tasted the difference between John and Aussie Bronwyn’s oil and Leelee and The Wolf’s oil, which is buttery and fantastically mild, and compared it to our oil, which is a gorgeous, peppery Tuscan style. Different types of trees taste differently.
And all of this was just appetizers.
Then we sat down to a dinner that was, in honor of our helpers, an American one – hamburgers on the grill, potato salad, French fries (or Freedom fries in some parts), and roast veggies. Throughout the meal, the conversation revolved around two improbable things: yurts and magic underwear.
Quizzing the Californian
Shortly after we gathered around the table, the dinner conversation turned to Lily and her home back in California.
A yurt - image from Wikipedia
“I live on 200 acres,” she said. “And I live in a yurt!”
Everyone started laughing.
“No, really. I have three yurts. The main yurt, a sauna yurt, and a guest yurt!”
“A guest yurt?” Rick asked.
“Yes. And I’ve named them all. The guest yurt is ‘Gurt.’ The sauna yurt is ‘Burt.’ And the main yurt is just ‘Yurt.’ Gurt, Burt, and Yurt. Those are my yurts!”
The Wolf said, “Yurt kidding!”
Quizzing the Mormon
Then somehow the conversation turned to TJ and his decision to leave the Mormon church.
The fantastic thing about TJ is that he has the friendly wholesomeness I’ve come to associate with the Mormons I’ve met over the years, but since he’s an ex-Mormon he has none of the religious dogma, racism, or homophobia. He’s an absolute pleasure, and after having him in our house for just a couple days it felt like he’d always been there.
“My parents were pretty upset when I left the church,” he said, but they got over it. “I left before I took my endowments.”
“Really?” Leelee said. “You mean you never got your magic underwear?” Leelee has some relatives who are Mormon, so she knows about the underwear.
TJ smiled. “No, I never did.”
I’ve heard about the sacred Mormon undergarments for years, and have always been fascinated. You get them when you become an adult and go through the ‘endowment’ ceremony. They’re supposed to remind you to be good.
I’d never had the chance to ask a Real Live Mormon about them. I used to work with a Mormon who was still part of the church, but asking your office co-workers about their underwear isn’t really something you do.
“What does the Mormon underwear look like?” Aussie Bronwyn asked.
I imagined something extraordinary. Embroidered silk, perhaps. Or purple chiffon.
“It’s just like a little T-shirt and briefs,” TJ said. “White.”
“Briefs?” I said. “Not even boxers?”
“Nope. Briefs for men and women.” TJ shrugged, and years of Mormon mystery fizzled and died out in my head.
Dessert and goodbye
Dessert was Leelee’s pavlova, and it moved our American visitors to bring out their cameras. Pavlova is an important part of Kiwi cuisine and this one was stunning – topped with whipped cream, kiwifruit and pink marshmallows.
Leelee's pavlova
“Oh no!” Lily shouted. “It looks beautiful, but I’m allergic to kiwis!”
John laughed. “If she touches a New Zealander, she gets a rash.”
We ate our delicious pavlova (Lily’s minus the kiwifruit) and sipped chamomile tea. Then, when the evening had wound down, when we couldn’t eat another bite or laugh another note, we slowly walked out to their cars.
My old friend the moon shone down as the goodbyes went around. Cars crunched on the gravel driveway and before I knew it everyone was gone. Rick and I walked back into the house together to find the ex-Mormon at the kitchen sink, already doing the dishes.
Clearly he doesn’t need magic underwear to remind him to be good. He’s welcome back any time.
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Related websites
Check out Leelee and the Wolf’s website: ‘Martinborough Art Department‘.
Now that the magic underwear mystery is solved, I still want to know…what is a “yurt”?
I added an image and a link for the yurt unaware!
oooo….remember back in those bookstore days…I think I had a crush on a guy named Gurt.
Did he live in a yurt?
I read your response to Diane as you’d added a link to “yurt underwear”. I’ve clearly got undercrackers on the brain. Never knew the Mormons wore special ones.
Hmm… yurt underwear? Does it look like a tent? Or perhaps you wear it in your yurt. Maybe Lilly has some.
Hilarious tale of dinner party chat. It got me wondering how the kiwis might respond if you turned up at the camp site and set up a yurt instead. I bet that would bring in a few people for a nosey.
I need some special undies to remind me to be good cause i’m often naughty..hhmm maybe I should just start wearing underwear to begin with LOLOL
Sounds like a wonderful evening …good food and good friends you can’t ask for much more.
Good to know the Yurts are comfortable and warm. Down in Tassie it looks like it will be a lot cooler than here in Africa. We’re hoping to do some Olives too :-)
Love it! Yurts and underwear combined with gluten-free focaccio dipped in your own olive oil and pavlova for dessert – what more could you ask for?! You sure do have the best visitors and dinner parties.
Oh, I love Lilly and her yurts, and even her strong American accent. And the way that the two Americans turn out to be so different in age and background.
Does the underwear have, like, religious exhortations or anything printed on it?
Yurt, Gurt, and Burt…sounds like the beginning of a Dr. Seuss book. I wish I could be there with you to enjoy your dinner parties! They are fun!