Shared Christmas letters – if you
don't like them, avert your eyes now. This one's going out to the
Guyton's friends and relatives (and any supportive readers of this blog I've not yet met, as well as those I have), all of whom are marvelous and
deserving of more than a generic letter at Christmas time, but we do
what we can and while a hand-written, fountain-pen-on-Basildon-Bond
letter would be better, I hope this will at least show that we were
thinking of you and thought you might like to hear about our year.
We've been busy.
Robyn and I have been abandoned by our
children. They've flown our coop and gone out into the world to see
if it's better than here. Adam's now a Mechanical Engineer and is
presently repairing the wooden cogs of the Foxton windmill, en route
to Whangarei and the Celtic music festival. He talks to us about cams
and gears, fulcrums and cosines, but it's all Dutch to me. Hollie's
visiting the family home at Riverton, whipping Christmas into shape,
trimming the tree and organising home-crafted gifts for the Big Day.
She's gone all thespian on us, and literal too, quoting Becket, Byron
and Baudeliare at every turn. Seems it's something to do with her
time at Otago university... Terry's all a-quiver in anticipation of
his up-coming Hitchin' Day, practicing his vows and trying on his Groom-suit
daily. He's cock-a-hoop about his recently-landed son and that's
understandable, I was too, back in the day. Leo's a likely lad and
handsomely representative of the family. His mum, Aleisha is doing a
splendid job raising both lads. Robyn's sailing through it all like
Cleopatra on the Nile, smiling beautifically and allowing me to kiss
her out-stretched, jewel-encrusted hand. It's what I like in a
woman. She's blossomed into quite the femme fatale, Robyn has and I'm
constantly beating off would-be suitors. I go in low and strike
first, ask questions later. It's led to some awkward moments.
Our garden is erupting with flower,
tendril and leaf and attracting visitors like a barrel of donkey-poo
draws drone-flies. This is a good thing. We've had children, some of
whom have catapaulted themselves off the veranda into the brassicas,
arriving in droves. They leave festooned with hop vines and clutching
thrush nests and seem transformed. Adult parties have come too, keen
to see a forest-garden. Most will recover, but some will never be the
same.
The climate's been good to us. Frost
has become a distant memory. Apples weigh the branches of the trees
in our orchard. We've three bee-hives, varroa-free and vibrant. The
Guinea pigs have become mythical, having escaped into the Greater
World Where There Be Cats. We've a solar-shower on the drawing-board.
Its foundation is built, oriented north and awaiting a Stage Two A
Greek-style, canvas-sailed windmill is leaning all but completed
against the workshop wall. The 'car-port' is complete. Council is in
recess. Having been elected for another 3 years, I ought to be
grateful. I've a new neck! The old one was graunching a bit, so I had
a new component installed and now its action is as silky-smooth as
that of a baby's. The morphine they gave me to mask any pain,
induced a light-heartedness that I haven't been able to shake off.
Happy days.
The Riverton Christmas Parade looms
large in our thoughts. It does this every year. Will we join the Sir
Edmund Hillary dog-sled team, real huskies and all, or will we serve
as a body-part in the giant Nelson Mandela puppet and wobble our way
down the main street on Christmas Eve in commemeration of the great
man, who can say for sure? Either way, the parade gets stranger and
stranger as the years pass, as perhaps do we.
We are already looking ahead to our
harvest festival in March. It's a marvelous thing and we have to make
it so, with careful planning and much help from friends. Once that's
done and dusted, Robyn and I will travel to Geraldine for a holiday
and to take part in their festival as speakers on the topic of
forest-gardens and such. We were invited to mount an exhibition at
the Ellerslie Flower Show, but ran out of puff just thinking about
it. Perhas in 2015.
Enough! I'm sure you've had enough! If
you made it thus far, thanks. Robyn, Terry, Adam, Hollie and I wish
you all a very merry Christmas (a green one, not so much of the red)
and a prosperous new year. If you're down our way, come and see us
and we'll expand on some of this nonsense and some of yours and spend
some time counting our shared blessings.
All the best
Robert
9 comments:
Yes we are blessed to be living in such a wonderful part of the world. I have travelled through the UK and Europe this year and the best thing I saw was the sun shining on Mt Cook as we flew over the Alps back into CHCH. That perhaps is a bit patronising but yes its good to come home. The other wonderful thing we have in the south is people prepared to give their time so freely behind the scenes to help those not so well of. I take my hat off to them.
Your message says so much about the riches of a close family. Can never be bought, only earned and built on those stories of bikeriding courtships that challenge the young generation to think of things equally as unique.
Have enjoyed the banter and points made on your blog and look forward to 2014 and more challenging debate.
My hydrangeas are coming out a brilliant blue at the moment so better get some lime and spray then as dont want people getting the wrong ideas and thinking I have gone a bit strange in my old age. (or stranger)
Sorry to hear about your hydrandeas, Philip - that's a cruel blow from Mother Nature, or perhaps it's her sense of humour?
Best wishes to you and your family for Christmas and the new year. 2014, a Year of Transformation, according to the Guytonese Calendar.
Reading The Hollow Men just now. Fascinating in retrospect. So many liars!
Thank you, Rg, for your wit and wisdom this year.
And for the sharing of your Forest Garden. In our wee section on the edge of Greytown we are a tad short of room but manage to grow a few tasty morsels - strawberries every day for 5 weeks, and raspberries these last ten days - yummmmmm!
Do take time to rest and refresh. I look forward to more of your ramblings next year.
That is a lovEly letter Robert. I've the best of intentions of writing something almost as good (you know I could) but good intentions count from little and meanwhile I've had too much to drink and too little to eat.
Down the road, and after all the money's gone...
So, thanks for providing a fresh perspective, thanks for showing us there is an alternative, thanks for believing something AND standing by it, thanks for having the grace to tolerate and defejd those who disagree with you and best wishes you and your family.
God damn it autocorrect is doing its best to upset me and I've forgotten what I wanted to say. Maybe it was keep up the good work and don't blog under the influence. 'Night.
Just had to share this Robert
An elderly man in Oklahoma calls his son in New York and says, "I hate to ruin your day son, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are getting a divorce; 45 years of marriage... and that much misery is enough!" "Dad, what are you talking about?" the son yells. "We can't stand the sight of each other any longer," the old dad explained. "We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Hong Kong and tell her!". Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. "Like heck they're getting divorced," she shouts, "I'll take care of this." She calls her elderly father immediately, and screams at him, "You are not getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back, and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, you hear me?" she yelled as she hung up the phone. The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. "Okay", he says, "it's all set. They're both coming for Christmas and paying their own air-fare."
Thanks, Fred. Your success with straw and raspberries makes my own efforts seem feeble, given we've only just begun to harvest strawberries and the rasps are yet to redden. This week, I reckon, we'll be picking. Have a great summer and enjoy the fruits of your labours.
Ah, AC! Blogging whilst merry, it's a perilous road to take and many a rash claim has been made by those who wax loquacious when tipsy, Jabba only knows!
Thank you for your support and clarity of thought. I often check to see what your position is before declaring my own - occasionally we're at odds and that's a relief - great chance to learn something when we are. Please pass on my families Christmas greetings to yours and have a safe holiday. Next year, there's much to do and say.
family's
Philip - we get more cunning as we age. Frugal too.
Yes I am forever telling my children no to blame me, its just a fact of my Scottish heritage. We have the deepest pockets and shortest arms. They ask why I dont wear a kilt then. Bit of education and it goes to their head
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