Waiting, waiting, waiting; it’s that time of year again. All over the Homestead, things are teetering on the edge of exploding into action
The weather has been doing that crazy seesaw of early twenties (we’re talking Celsius here) one day, to hard sparkling frost the next, with a sprinkling of dismal grey just to keep us on our toes. Out in the garden, we’ve got everything primed and ready to go, but learnt to our cost last year that it just doesn’t pay to sow anything, even in the glasshouse, until September. It’s all part of the waiting game.
This week, The Goat Herd managed to get the compost turned again and threw a bit of “the good stuff” on the newly constructed front garden bed in readiness for the pumpkins, courgettes and squash earmarked to take up residence there. We never feel guilty about having those crops in front of the Homestead as they always look so pretty. Besides the developing pumpkins provide endless entertainment for the bus stop patrons and goes a long way to explaining why we have a shelf in the garage full of graffitied curcubita. Zac, whoever you are, we salute you; Not only are you “cool”, “cute” and “da man”, you also have a firm grasp of botany (not everyone knows the etching-the-teeny-pumpkin trick) and a very active social life – if our vegetables can be believed, that is. Of course, bearing in mind this is an election year, “Z-Dawg” may just be a master in the art of self promotion as it is rampant around these parts at the moment. You know it’s a tad slow when you’re reduced to reading dinner.
5 thoughts on “The Waiting Game”
I keep coming back to this picture of your front garden – can’t wait to see it burgeoning with greenery in the summer. Is all the brick edging and path rubble from the old chimney you took down? I must say, your description of the season tells me you’d feel completely at home here in about 6 months time, when it will be exactly as you describe right here on the opposite end of the sphere. And it sound like living in New Brighton is to live in the middle of a social whirl. Enjoy it!
Yes, the bricks come from the chimney we took down plus a heap of others we found around the place – presumably from other dismantled chimneys. Like you, we can’t wait until the gardens are actually growing something and we’ve covered the crushed up hardfill with shingle…one step at a time. New Brighton is great, there’s always something happening, but we often have to compromise otherwise we’d never get anything done here.
Karakaberry? We don’t have that here (obviously!)…the first time I googled, Wikipedia told me firmly that it’s part of the laurel family, native to NZ, the berries are great winter food for birds. BUT….toxic to humans if not extensively processed. Really? I went back to your post and realized you’d run the two words into a compound word, so tried again and learned that it’s a NZ hybrid, like a blackberry…whew, the Homestead crew will NOT be poisoning themselves anytime soon. But seriously, why couldn’t they be creative and call it something different instead of recycling the name from a plant with toxic fruit??
Sorry my bad grammar caused you concern 🙂 Karaka is Maori for the word orange which makes no sense as the berries are deep red, it’s also the name of at least one area in the North Island…maybe they were developed there? Maybe it’s just a sneaky way to make us feel all heritagey about them and overlook the fact that they’re a recently developed hybrid. Whatever, they taste sublime (once you negotiate the rather substantial core) and you’ve made us all feel a little warm and fuzzy that someone on the other side of the world is concerned about what we ingest:)
Haha…it wasn’t your grammar that led me astray – your spelling matches the blackberry like fruit that google found for me when I spelled it your way. It was when I was trying to be clever and make it two words that I ran into the orange berried laurel thing. Besides, check out my grammar – saying I live at the end of a sphere.