Sun, gale force winds and the radio.


Power returned after 48 hours of busyness. Friday town day was fun and sunny. By home time  (4pm)   the winds were gathering strength and by 8pm the power went out. Fumbled around to find candles then ventured out with the torch, to check my power lines close to the cabin. The roar of the wind from all directions was delivering small branches and swirls of leaves as I scurried around checking everything out.

I spied a heavy branch over my phone line, which I could not reach with a bamboo pole, so I expected the phone to go out during the night too.

It didn’t.

I have developed a reasonable attitude to these extreme weather events,  mainly because I accept there is nothing I can do so after a couple of whiskies, I sleep through…. so soundly too as it happened  haha …… then to wake to the deck covered in dried twigs and green leaves with overhangs of branches from the roof.  Then I saw a gap in the tree canopy line,  a Moreton Bay fig tree, a 110 years old at least, snapped off a metre from its 2 metre trunk base. Moreton Bay figs trees were planted to shade the earlier farm houses here. That was because the hills had been stripped of trees for cattle.

Always offer thanks that it didn’t fall on something I needed.  So clear up took half of my daylight hours while the other time was spent sorting and grading 200 kilos of turmeric. Sold as of Monday.

The honey eater followed me around as I listened to the wind up radio while I worked.



Wow, Brexit………………..the young all for staying in the European Union while the older people want out. I am sorry the Uk, a country that colonized a huge percentage of the world and never shied away from taking what it wanted, including workers,  has taken this direction but when you think of it from all perspectives I can understand the vote, as misdirected as I feel it is. When I lived in London, during the Edward Health time of negotiation to join the EEU, major concern was felt in NZ for their dairy exports. Being a New Zealand born dairy farmer’s son I took a keen interest in the developments.  Londoners would commiserate with me because I was a NZer and felt they had betrayed their NZ cousins by joining. “Your people fed us” ordinary Londoners would say to me.

Then, the mood was generally luke warm to joining. But there was also a general relief that Europe was at peace, at last. War sites were visible throughout London and memories of the blitz were still common talk amongst the population. Landladies of the rented bedsits I lived in would often recall their vivid memories of terror.

Those days too rent was affordable, even on the low wages I earned. Even then it was not often I worked in an all English work place, everyone was from somewhere else which made it so exciting and encouraging and educational.

As I viewed the Farage poster with a queue of coloured refugees behind him in a newspaper on Friday, to then pull out of my mail box all the expensive advertising from our tedious election campaign, I thought how the ugliness of advertising has won. Here, words like liar, betrayal, dishonest, scare, spin, ice, 7 year olds, terror ,stopping the boats , all glared out from their glossy coloured back grounds.

The only recycled paper I saw was on the envelope from a Green’s local post out, Standing up for what matters and another leaflet saying that the koala’s natural habitat is shrinking by the month.

So much waste. And so little for the environment.

At least same sex equality wasn’t an issue in the UK.


Turmerics, graded and washed.


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