One sick pig

January 13, 2012
Lucy on a hot day

Lucy on a hot day

It wasn’t until Rick went away to the States and I had a week off that Rick’s beloved pet pig, Old Lady Lucy, started having trouble.

The first sign was when she showed no interest in a piece of bread. This is a bit like a fierce lioness losing interest in a limping wildebeest.

Lucy’s previous owners regularly fed her day-old donuts, but at our place the occasional piece of bread is as close as she gets to the glory days of her misspent, donut-eating youth.

As a result, she usually snatches bread up. When she wouldn’t even lift her head to eat the bread I’d laid next to her, I was worried.

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Jack the baby lamb

November 12, 2011
Feeding Jack the baby lamb

Feeding Jack the baby lamb

I knew I was in trouble when I received a text from Rick that said, “We have a new baby.”

When I got home I found Rick sitting on the front deck, holding a very small lamb in his arms. Its head was resting peacefully on Rick’s shoulder.

Rick looked up and smiled, “Isn’t he just the cutest thing you’ve ever seen?”

I sighed.  “And just how did this lamb end up in your arms?”

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Too many olives

June 19, 2011
Green grass in the freshly grown olive grove

Grass in the olive grove

“He canceled,” I said, hanging up the phone.

Rick looked nervous. “What do you mean?”

“It’s taking him longer than expected in another olive grove. He says he’ll come here tomorrow, but he won’t commit to a time.”

“If he doesn’t come here first, he’ll get stuck in another grove again,” Rick said. “He’ll never make it here.”

“I know.”

Every year at harvest time, Andrew-of-the-Olives becomes a very popular man. With his Mighty Tree Shaker, he can harvest an olive tree in something like 30 seconds. He’s based in the Hawke’s Bay and he has the only tree shakers on the North Island.

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Attack of the energy draining suckers

April 18, 2011
Overgrown olive grove

Overgrown olive grove, 2006

Rick and I were standing with our neighbor John down in the olive grove. The trees were thick and green all around us.

“Look how great the grove looks,” Rick said.

John scowled and shook his head. “Well, you’re not done yet.”

Rick and I had only been living in Martinborough for less than a month. When we moved in the grass in the olive grove had been chest high, and John had helped us to hire a contractor to mow it.

Now the beautiful green grass was low to the ground and wonderfully even – with 500 significant exceptions. Around the base of every tree, there was a perfect square of long, ungainly grass that the contractor’s enormous tractor mower hadn’t been able to reach.

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Bringing home Old Lady Lucy

December 21, 2010
Lucy the kune kune pig

Lucy the kunekune pig

Podcast available.

“I don’t want to get this pig,” I said to Rick. It didn’t matter that I was already sitting in the back seat of our friends’ ute on the way to get it.

Rick was sitting next to me, practically bouncing with glee. “I know you. As soon as we have her, you’ll love her.”

In the front seat were our friends Leelee and The Wolf. “Pigs are great,” they yelled, practically in unison.

The Wolf is a do-it-yourself mastermind who’s had a lot of experience transporting pet pigs, and Leelee has such an uncanny ability to communicate with pigs that we call her the Pig Whisperer.

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The olive muse and Moore Wilson’s

September 21, 2010
Moore Wilson's

Moore Wilson's

I looked up at the enormous building and the huge green sign that said “Moore Wilson’s Fresh Market,” and I felt like Dorothy at the gates to the Emerald City.

In my arms I held a heavy cardboard box full of olive oil bottles that I’d carefully labeled the night before. At my side was our good neighbor Kiwi Bronwyn, carrying another box which contained more olive oil, a tablecloth, a bread knife, and some plates and bowls.

Rick stood right behind us, next to our little Nissan Pulsar. He’d just driven us over the Rimutaka Hill Road and into Wellington city for the day.

“Do you have everything?” he asked.

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Farewell to Old Man Henry

August 24, 2010
Proud rooster Henry

Henry in his healthier days

I should have known that something was wrong when our geriatric rooster, Old Man Henry, started sleeping in the nesting box.

At first Rick and I just figured it was cold and that he’d go back to his low senior citizen’s perch in the spring.

But when I found Henry sleeping smack dab on top of three eggs, we knew something was not quite right.

From then on, Henry was always on the eggs. Every morning I found myself in the odd situation of having to reach under the rooster to gather the eggs from the nesting box.

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Race to beat the frost

July 25, 2010
Frantoio olives, April 2010

Frantoio olives (click to enlarge)

Podcast available.

“They’re all still green,” Rick said.

We were standing in the middle of the olive grove on a cold morning in the middle of May. Nearly five hundred olive trees surrounded us, and there wasn’t a single ripe olive to be seen.

The frosts would be starting soon, but the grove simply wasn’t yet ready for harvesting. We didn’t know what to do.

Frost damage can completely destroy your crop, because it ruins the taste of your oil. We needed more time.

I looked around at all the green olives. “We have to delay the harvest. There’s no choice. We just have to hope the frost doesn’t get us.”

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Buying firewood is a sin

June 27, 2010
Gumboots at the back door

Gumboots and firewood

Podcast available.

Back in March, just as the fall weather was setting in, Rick and I were talking with our neighbors at a dinner party about getting firewood for the coming winter.

When you heat your home with a woodburner, getting wood in for the winter becomes an annual event, like the changing of the leaves and the onset of shorter, cooler days. Rick and I have been living in the country for over 3 years, and every year we’ve picked up the phone to have firewood delivered.

When I admitted to this, I received some strange looks from around the table that night. I didn’t understand. Had I said something wrong?

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A tractor named Sunshine

May 1, 2010
Sunshine the tractor

Sunshine

Podcast available.

“Buy a used tractor?” I said to Rick. “Do we need one?”

Three years ago, after finishing the paperwork to purchase 20 acres with an olive grove in Martinborough, Rick and I received an email from the real estate agent asking if we’d like to buy the vendor’s tractor as well.

In our city boy minds, a used tractor would break down and require mechanical know how. We wanted a new tractor, but we were already broke from the mortgage. We planned to wait a few years before investing in equipment.

So we sent an email back to the agent confidently telling him that we did not yet need a tractor.

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The U.N. Committee on Home Decorating

January 30, 2010
The wall

The wall

We were at John and Aussie Bronwyn’s for dinner with the rest of the neighbors when Rick first announced our intentions.

“We’re going to tear down the wall,” he said.

Suddenly the room fell silent. Forks were held frozen in mid-air. Mouths full of food had stopped chewing.

This was less than a year after we’d arrived here in Martinborough, and we didn’t yet understand that our house had come with an advisory committee.

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Kiwi country Thanksgiving

December 5, 2009
Roast turkey

Our roast turkey

Rick called me at work on Thursday morning in a panic.

“Did you see the weather forecast for Saturday?” he said. “It’s horrible. Rain all day. Should we cancel Thanksgiving?”

For most people, the idea of canceling Thanksgiving on account of a little bit of rain would seem a ridiculous idea, but they’ve never been to one of our Thanksgiving parties.

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The day the water stopped

October 10, 2009

Podcast available.

Rick and I had been living in the country for only a couple of months when Rick’s city friend Fiona came to visit.

Well in the olive grove

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.

Out on the deck I made the announcement.

“There’s no water.”

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Yurts and magic underwear

October 3, 2009

Podcast available.

Daisies in the garden

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.

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Your chicken killers are here

August 22, 2009

Rick and I were both wearing clothes we wouldn’t mind getting blood on as we drove up Aussie Bronwyn’s driveway in our little city boy Nissan Pulsar.

Axe - photo by milan6

Axe - photo by milan6

When Aussie Bronwyn came to the door – the High Priestess of Chicken Wisdom herself – Rick called out ‘Your loyal chicken killers are here!” My stomach turned.

Was I really going to do this?

At a dinner party a few months before, Rick had said to Aussie Bronwyn, “If you ever need help killing chickens, let me know.”

In some circles this might be considered an odd thing to say at a dinner party. Not here.

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