It seems that “write blog” has been on our To Do List for a very long time (22 days if our statistics are to be believed and we see no reason why they shouldn’t) and we feel very remiss in not doing so. Life seems to have run us over since we last met.
It seems like only a moment ago we were virtually boarding our virtual flight to begin our This-Time-Next-Year holiday and suddenly here we virtually are, home for three days and, hopefully, all but caught up on our sleep and not too deep in that post-holiday fug. Now our chart tracks our fundraising efforts, instead. We’re not ones for single use items.
In the real world we’ve celebrated three birthdays, not celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary, started a new job, survived another Guy Fawkes night, and spent a great deal of time beating the Homestead gardens, the actual victims of the messy year you, our blog friends, have borne testimony to, into shape.
The Renovator celebrated his 27 times round the sun with a beach stroll, Crema for breakfast, a wander around the competition winning tiny huts, and a Chinese takeaway feast for tea.
The following day was a land-mark birthday for The Farmer: the big two-one. Not being one for making a fuss, he chose a family day out taking in the Air New Zealand 75th Anniversary Exhibition at the Canterbury Museum, lunch at a restaurant that met his stringent criteria (not too loud, must serve chips) and a fiercely fought battle at the bowling alley.
He is now a fortnight plus into his new employment and is loving it. He’s always been smitten with aircraft and he now earns his crust cleaning them; yes it’s cleaning but…it’s cleaning PLANES. The bonus is that it is a night job leaving us with an extra pair of hands around the Homestead. His current task is removing the deck from the back of the Homestead.
The Goat Herd’s birthday fell on one of those days that seemed like a magnet for unavoidable other-engagements including a school camp, a night shift and a bout of O and M (Orientation and Mobility) Training for Farm Girl.
But we still managed to find time for the usual birthday palaver
including a wonderful, yet unphotographed (just imagine us, our mouths crammed full with deliciousness yet still managing to carry out loud and animated conversation) meal out at a new-to-us-but-one-which-we’ll-return-to restaurant, Casa Nostra.
In the backyard, most remains the same. This year we were determined to see the positive in the annual Guy Fawkes display by having a party in the goat paddock: barbeque, mulled wine and ‘smores whilst keeping the nervy ladies company.
It paid off too. Geraldine swells by the day, proving her dalliance with Bachelor Number One has borne fruit, whereas Leia plays her usual game of keeping us speculating. The lovely Violet Chicken had a change of address, now living at Princess Nikita’s abode as her Houdini-esque tendencies were wreaking havoc on the protracted Homestead harvest. In the interests of fair play we have done a swapsie; Heidi has had a surprisingly affable acceptance into the flock which maybe has a lot to do with her physical stature. Overseeing all, as usual, the duck dames continue to keep everyone in line – well, everyone except Xanthe, who obviously didn’t get the memo regarding ownership of the latest duck domain.
Which brings you up to date with Homestead happenings…except then last night happened…