I'm having another of life's clear-outs. Slowly but surely I'm plodding my way through the remaining boxes in the shed at Pukepoto, bringing them in to town, going through them and absorbing what remains into my current space in the world. I'm determined not to add any boxes to the garage here, not that there's really any space to do so anyway as it is full of J&O's stuff!
Also over most of the last year I've been having a mental/emotional clear-out of stuff that is unhelpful through counselling. So it was somewhat bemusing to come across something I wrote about fifteen years ago about much the same thing, and how useful it had been. So in order to be able to clear another bit of physical clutter out of my life, here is what I wrote so the pages can hit the recycling pile...
[For those of you out there who were regular readers of YQ at the time and are thinking 'I don't remember reading this before' don't worry, it isn't old age taking it's toll. You most likely haven't. Just because I said I'd write something, which I finally did, doesn't mean I'd also actually get around to sending it in, which I suspect never quite happened!!]
Some time ago (er... May '87 to be honest - Kendal YFCC!) I promised then YQ Editor Jonathan Kemp that I'd write 'something' for YQ, 'after my exams'. Thankfully I don't remember specifying which exams, but having sat the last ones in '92 I feel as though I'm still somewhat overdue in writing!
So what has prompted me after all these years to finally get around to it?
Guilt. Plain and simple.
Over the last six months I've ended up having to do a lot of looking back over my life. Trying to figure out why I am where I am today, who I am, and what on earth am I doing with my life. You know, all the nice easy ones.
Part of the process has been counselling after it finally sank in that my head can only take so much without a good clear out. The amount of stuff that had just been pushed to the back of my mind 'for now' had built up to the point where if anything even vaguely difficult or challenging occurred I couldn't cope. Not a good situation to be in when you work with people with challenging behaviour.
So off I went, somewhat reluctantly at first, to counselling. Deciding to go was a big step in itself. If I had a pound for every time in my life someone had said to me "You're coping so well", "You always seem to manage, how do you do it?" etc etc I could retire tomorrow. When the world thinks you are coping it is very difficult to turn around and say well actually I'm not, can you help? Especially if they've just said that they couldn't do it themselves!
I'm getting there, but it's not always easy to bring out painful memories and look at them again. At least there's some more space in my head again though and I don't throw a wobbly every time someone else does!
Another part of the process has been physically having a clear out. As anyone who's ever visited me knows I've got rather a lot of 'stuff'. Due mainly to being put in a 'take it or it goes' situation when my parents moved house some years ago. So whilst most of you have children's books, teddies, jigsaws and toys safely stowed away in attics and spare bedrooms elsewhere, mind were under my bed, on top of my wardrobe, and fighting for shelf space along with my university notes. Like the ever promised article, I never quite got around to sorting through it all.
Then suddenly, a couple of years ago, I had to shift all my stuff several times in as many weeks, up and down far too many stairs. My life had changed, my future was unclear, but one thing was certain, some of the stuff had to go. Slowly but surely over the next four months I started to whittle it down. Another house move, still too much stuff - keep going! A year on and like all good resolutions I'd slowed down to a virtual stop, but then came the promise of a new home - somewhere stable, permanent, but small.
Bin bags were filled, boxes cleared, endless carrier bags dumped exhaustedly at the Shelter Shop. The big move came - would it all fit in? Well sort of, ish. So more had to go but but was getting harder. All the easy to part with stuff had gone. Then one day hiding from the rain in a bookshop I found my saviour 'Clear your clutter with Feng Shui' by Karen Kingston. You wouldn't believe what I've managed to do since reading it.
Clearing out clutter is in itself very theraputic - as long as you manage to throw things away and not put them back 'for now...'. In so many ways we are defined by our possessions and the things we surround ourselves with. I had an incredible amount of stuff which I'd felt I 'ought' to keep rather than wanted to. The old 'it might come in handy one day' kind of thing mixed up with 'but so-and-so gave me that'. Are my memories of people and my past so fragile that I need to keep everything? It's quite a question to ask yourself.
I compromised and started a scrapbook, it's got old tickets from concerts and the cinema, some train tickets, old NUS cards, railcards and so on so I can cringe at old photos of me, mementos from events and people. It's been good fun doing it. It satisfies a childlike instinct to play with scissors, glue and sellotape too! If I can't remember something when I find it in my sorting out it goes.
Yet with my dread of amnesia quashed with the scrapbook and so much more parted with, I still haven't finished. But there are now just a few hats on top of the wardrobe instead of a precarious pile to the ceiling, there's space in the cupboards and no longer a pile of boxes lurking in every corner of the flat.
So where has all this got me? My head is being cleared out, the flat is being tidied up, but there's still a pile of stuff that remains to be dealt with, the 'pending' tray in life. That's where this article came in. No matter how hard I 'd tried to forget that I'd ever said I'd write anything the memory kept coming back to haunt me. There are a few other things in the tray too, and I'm trying to get it emptied by the end of the year, clear it out and not let it get so full again.
Maybe someone will read this and realize that they can sort things out too. I hope so. It always seemed like such an enormous task, too big to tackle, But if you break it down into little bits, like writing an article for YQ, it can stop being so daunting, and you might even find you enjoy it!
Post script, fifteen years later...
I laugh now at the thought of that flat being small. Sure it was for the amount of gubbins we crammed in to it, but having lived with far less stuff for many years now, and spent rather a lot of time reading articles about Tiny Houses, I have a somewhat different perspective these days.
I was in that flat for four and half years before life got turned on its head yet again. Not that I'm complaining as it was the beginning of the journey that led me to a life in Aotearoa NZ, but I think had you told me what was coming back then I'd've baulked at the thought of it. Well that is once I'd picked myself up off the floor and gotten over a stitch from laughing for long enough to ask 'Are you serious?'
So no, life hasn't exactly been plain sailing since then, and it is amazing how much extra internal clutter one can acquire in fifteen years, even if you've got better at keeping the physical stuff under control. But over all I still believe what I wrote then, I just wish I'd reminded myself sooner...
Saturday, April 11, 2015
Tuesday, April 07, 2015
'If language were liquid...
...it would be rushing in, instead here we are in a silence more eloquent than any words can ever be'
Suzanne Vega, 'Language'
Proof (as if any were needed) that it isn't only Quakers who find silence can speak louder than words! When trying to describe silent/waiting worship I often ask if the enquirer has ever been part of a one or two minutes silence in remembrance, especially as part of a large gathering such as at a sports stadium or an ANZAC Day dawn service etc. Then try to imagine that feeling lasting a whole hour... Okay, so it isn't always that intense/amazing/gathered but it can be. And yes, it can be more eloquent than words can ever be.
A few things have caught my eye via Facebook and television recently that made me think about the phrase 'divided by a common language', and if native speakers of English can get confused by each other heaven help those learning it as a second or other subsequent language. In some ways we have one of the most versatile languages drawing as it does on many historical roots. But we also have one of the most confusing to interpret due to the number of idioms that certainly shouldn't be taken literally!
One of the advantages of moving around in life for me is that I've picked up the local lingo in several English counties in addition to 'Embra' Scots and understanding both the West Coast and Deeside versions (plus a smidgen of Doric and Gaelic, just don't ask me to spell any of it though!), and of course the more recent addition of Kiwinglish. There have been a couple of adverts in the States with Kiwi basketball player Steven Adams in them (this and this) which as he'd say are pretty choice, but just prove the point that if you want to be understood locally you have to go with the flow and adapt, as subtitles are hard to reproduce for everyday conversation.
But whilst understanding many tongues is a blessing, it can be a burden if you try to use them all at once as you end up faced with a lot of blank looks and requests to translate. At least Marion and I have each other here who have both lived in Yorkshire, Scotland, Newcastle-upon-Tyne and Aotearoa NZ, plus she's lived in Cumbria and that's where my Mum is from (albeit the bit that used be Lancashire rather than Cumberland) and since my Māori got up to speed enough to understand those words too we know we don't have to worry about which ones we use when talking to each other. Bi- and multi-linguists will understand, you have the perfect word in your head, but it is in the wrong language for the conversation and sometimes your thinking is like this... especially when you're too tired to untangle it!
I really appreciate having friends on Facebook who regularly use the dialect/language of their locality that have made up part of my past. Otherwise it isn't often I hear anyone described as a daft wazzock these days, or talking twaddle. There's plenty twaddle around, it just doesn't get called that here, nor codswallop either. Seeing such words, or being with people from places in my past generally tends to have the effect of veering my current lexicon of words temporarily back in that direction again, so in many ways my everyday language is liquid, with ebbs and flows and underlying currents. I still haven't really got the hang of eloquent though, but maybe I shouldn't worry about it and leave that to the silence.
Suzanne Vega, 'Language'
Proof (as if any were needed) that it isn't only Quakers who find silence can speak louder than words! When trying to describe silent/waiting worship I often ask if the enquirer has ever been part of a one or two minutes silence in remembrance, especially as part of a large gathering such as at a sports stadium or an ANZAC Day dawn service etc. Then try to imagine that feeling lasting a whole hour... Okay, so it isn't always that intense/amazing/gathered but it can be. And yes, it can be more eloquent than words can ever be.
A few things have caught my eye via Facebook and television recently that made me think about the phrase 'divided by a common language', and if native speakers of English can get confused by each other heaven help those learning it as a second or other subsequent language. In some ways we have one of the most versatile languages drawing as it does on many historical roots. But we also have one of the most confusing to interpret due to the number of idioms that certainly shouldn't be taken literally!
One of the advantages of moving around in life for me is that I've picked up the local lingo in several English counties in addition to 'Embra' Scots and understanding both the West Coast and Deeside versions (plus a smidgen of Doric and Gaelic, just don't ask me to spell any of it though!), and of course the more recent addition of Kiwinglish. There have been a couple of adverts in the States with Kiwi basketball player Steven Adams in them (this and this) which as he'd say are pretty choice, but just prove the point that if you want to be understood locally you have to go with the flow and adapt, as subtitles are hard to reproduce for everyday conversation.
But whilst understanding many tongues is a blessing, it can be a burden if you try to use them all at once as you end up faced with a lot of blank looks and requests to translate. At least Marion and I have each other here who have both lived in Yorkshire, Scotland, Newcastle-upon-Tyne and Aotearoa NZ, plus she's lived in Cumbria and that's where my Mum is from (albeit the bit that used be Lancashire rather than Cumberland) and since my Māori got up to speed enough to understand those words too we know we don't have to worry about which ones we use when talking to each other. Bi- and multi-linguists will understand, you have the perfect word in your head, but it is in the wrong language for the conversation and sometimes your thinking is like this... especially when you're too tired to untangle it!
I really appreciate having friends on Facebook who regularly use the dialect/language of their locality that have made up part of my past. Otherwise it isn't often I hear anyone described as a daft wazzock these days, or talking twaddle. There's plenty twaddle around, it just doesn't get called that here, nor codswallop either. Seeing such words, or being with people from places in my past generally tends to have the effect of veering my current lexicon of words temporarily back in that direction again, so in many ways my everyday language is liquid, with ebbs and flows and underlying currents. I still haven't really got the hang of eloquent though, but maybe I shouldn't worry about it and leave that to the silence.
Friday, April 03, 2015
the post-gathering blues
I read this post by Robin recently and wished I'd had something like this 30yrs ago to explain why, if my weekend had been so wonderful, was I now in tears. Why, over the following few years, I'd come home from various events completely exhausted, emotionally and physically wrung out, completely unable to articulate why and desperate for the next gathering to come round. Why I couldn't find it in me to be pleased to be back home.
As the years have passed I've learned that those early experiences of Quaker gatherings were far from unique and whilst no there never will be quite the same combination of people together again, the same intensity, the same depth and the same connections can be found time after time after time. Some of the older and more seasoned participants were sharing wry smiles with each other at the outpourings of emotion at the end of the World Gathering of Young Friends 2005 as we all went our separate ways around the globe. Even then email and text meant keeping in touch with those far afield was an absolute doddle compared to the days when snail mail and expensive toll calls was all we had. And now with Facebook, Twitter etc it is even easier.
But no matter how much easier it to keep in touch with those you've shared the journey with (literally and metaphorically) the bit that doesn't seem to change is that time of 're-entry to reality', adjusting back to the everyday stuff that fills up the days between gatherings. Many a conversation has been had as to which is 'reality', that which we were usually in the process of leaving behind at the time on the long journey home, or that which we were heading to? Being part of a household with others going to the same things helps that transition, if nothing else they are as knackered as you are and they at least get the in jokes. But even if the home environment is full of fellow weary travellers, the outside world isn't. So you find yourself having to get used to not being able to just drop into deep and meaningful conversation with the person next to you even if you've never met them before; remembering that actually if you want to eat tonight you'd better think about cooking rather than just stand in a queue and be given a plateful; adjusting your conversation back into normal everyday language rather than a plethora of acronyms and 'Quaker speak' (jargon?); and not expecting everyone in sight to be wearing a name badge.
On the plus side there is your own bed, no (or a much shorter) queue for the loo and shower, and literally all the comforts of home. You know you should be glad to be home, to those who you've missed and have missed you, and most of you is, especially the sleep deprived and possibly also jet-lagged part of you. But no matter how many gatherings you go to there is always that window of readjustment from one set of routines to another, and no longer having the day's carefully timetabled programme on a piece of paper in your bag or pocket to refer to when in doubt as to what comes next. There are very few who readjust back without some size of a dose of the post-gathering blues. There are many different coping mechanisms, generally mine is to retreat from the world and try to process what I've just experienced within my head rather than by talking about it. I never seem to be able to find the words to explain why it was so *wonderful, deep, moving, exciting, energising, heartbreaking, etc etc etc (*delete as appropriate), which I acknowledge isn't easy on those who didn't go who are trying to get an idea of what I experienced.
Depending on the theme or purpose of the event 'real life' can seem incredibly trivial when you get back to it. It can be hard not to get judgmental about those who are getting wound up about the latest tv reality show when you've been hearing first hand experiences of genocide and incredible stories of survival and forgiveness. It can also be hard (especially when still a teenager/young adult), to convey how humbling and inspiring it is to meet such people, or those working in reconciliation work closer to home; or standing up for their beliefs to the point of being imprisoned for it; to meet people who appear on the news reels; to learn from some incredibly talented and wise folk and so on without it sounding like those who lead more everyday normal lives 'back home' are an inferior breed that you suppose you'll just have to put up with until your next exciting adventure... Sure you could go home and complain about the snorers in your dorm, the food, the weather, the uncomfortable and/or squeaky chairs/beds/floor, that your flight/train/bus was delayed, and there are those who do just that, and you get the impression that the thing biggest importance of the last few days was not having the right breakfast cereal and they'd had a thoroughly miserable time. The latter of which occasionally is true but generally such reports are simply another coping mechanism. It's far easier to complain about cultural differences and expectations than it is to describe a deep spiritual experience or feeling of inadequacy for the task you are feeling called to take on, and it is often much easier for the listener to understand.
It's reassuring in many ways to read posts like Robin's, someone who goes to such events for work as well as leisure, it is a reminder that such feelings are normal. I'd like to think that after 30yrs of gatherings I've got better at getting home afterwards, but I know it is something I still need to make more effort with and at least have a few coherent sentences on hand to describe my time away other than 'Yeah it was good. I'm off to get some sleep...'
As the years have passed I've learned that those early experiences of Quaker gatherings were far from unique and whilst no there never will be quite the same combination of people together again, the same intensity, the same depth and the same connections can be found time after time after time. Some of the older and more seasoned participants were sharing wry smiles with each other at the outpourings of emotion at the end of the World Gathering of Young Friends 2005 as we all went our separate ways around the globe. Even then email and text meant keeping in touch with those far afield was an absolute doddle compared to the days when snail mail and expensive toll calls was all we had. And now with Facebook, Twitter etc it is even easier.
But no matter how much easier it to keep in touch with those you've shared the journey with (literally and metaphorically) the bit that doesn't seem to change is that time of 're-entry to reality', adjusting back to the everyday stuff that fills up the days between gatherings. Many a conversation has been had as to which is 'reality', that which we were usually in the process of leaving behind at the time on the long journey home, or that which we were heading to? Being part of a household with others going to the same things helps that transition, if nothing else they are as knackered as you are and they at least get the in jokes. But even if the home environment is full of fellow weary travellers, the outside world isn't. So you find yourself having to get used to not being able to just drop into deep and meaningful conversation with the person next to you even if you've never met them before; remembering that actually if you want to eat tonight you'd better think about cooking rather than just stand in a queue and be given a plateful; adjusting your conversation back into normal everyday language rather than a plethora of acronyms and 'Quaker speak' (jargon?); and not expecting everyone in sight to be wearing a name badge.
On the plus side there is your own bed, no (or a much shorter) queue for the loo and shower, and literally all the comforts of home. You know you should be glad to be home, to those who you've missed and have missed you, and most of you is, especially the sleep deprived and possibly also jet-lagged part of you. But no matter how many gatherings you go to there is always that window of readjustment from one set of routines to another, and no longer having the day's carefully timetabled programme on a piece of paper in your bag or pocket to refer to when in doubt as to what comes next. There are very few who readjust back without some size of a dose of the post-gathering blues. There are many different coping mechanisms, generally mine is to retreat from the world and try to process what I've just experienced within my head rather than by talking about it. I never seem to be able to find the words to explain why it was so *wonderful, deep, moving, exciting, energising, heartbreaking, etc etc etc (*delete as appropriate), which I acknowledge isn't easy on those who didn't go who are trying to get an idea of what I experienced.
Depending on the theme or purpose of the event 'real life' can seem incredibly trivial when you get back to it. It can be hard not to get judgmental about those who are getting wound up about the latest tv reality show when you've been hearing first hand experiences of genocide and incredible stories of survival and forgiveness. It can also be hard (especially when still a teenager/young adult), to convey how humbling and inspiring it is to meet such people, or those working in reconciliation work closer to home; or standing up for their beliefs to the point of being imprisoned for it; to meet people who appear on the news reels; to learn from some incredibly talented and wise folk and so on without it sounding like those who lead more everyday normal lives 'back home' are an inferior breed that you suppose you'll just have to put up with until your next exciting adventure... Sure you could go home and complain about the snorers in your dorm, the food, the weather, the uncomfortable and/or squeaky chairs/beds/floor, that your flight/train/bus was delayed, and there are those who do just that, and you get the impression that the thing biggest importance of the last few days was not having the right breakfast cereal and they'd had a thoroughly miserable time. The latter of which occasionally is true but generally such reports are simply another coping mechanism. It's far easier to complain about cultural differences and expectations than it is to describe a deep spiritual experience or feeling of inadequacy for the task you are feeling called to take on, and it is often much easier for the listener to understand.
It's reassuring in many ways to read posts like Robin's, someone who goes to such events for work as well as leisure, it is a reminder that such feelings are normal. I'd like to think that after 30yrs of gatherings I've got better at getting home afterwards, but I know it is something I still need to make more effort with and at least have a few coherent sentences on hand to describe my time away other than 'Yeah it was good. I'm off to get some sleep...'
Monday, March 16, 2015
processing food issues
I came across this article about what's in food these days that either doesn't appear on the label or is cunningly disguised as something far healthier and more natural than it is. It really is quite scary and certainly an incentive to keep away from processed foods. There aren't many in my diet these days anyway, but the article increased my determination to only buy locally grown fresh fruit and veg, preferably at the market, to avoid the chemicals used to prolong the supermarket shelf life of the same.
After Marion's comments about how little probiotics are actually in yoghurt I'd been thinking about trying fermented foods, especially as I kept seeing references to a Facebook group about it that a former colleague is in. Admittedly I was initially planning to buy some sauerkraut from the healthfood shop, but whenever I thought of it they were out of stock. Probably just as well as I then came across this article which explains how much better home made is. So I thought I'd have a go at making sauerkraut, from homegrown cabbages no less! Granted they were rather pathetic specimens, as brassicas and hot dry weather don't mix very well, but still homegrown none the less. A quick trawl of the local op/charity shops produced a suitable vessel (a re-purposed ceramic coffee crock!) as I couldn't find anything at home the right shape/size. As it has a lid it'd do fine to store the finished product in too. Unfortunately I hadn't taken into consideration just how hot it has been and didn't add enough extra brine over the top so it dried out and went icky, but lesson learned and at least it was with cabbages that would've probably ended up on the compost heap anyway! I'll definitely have another go although I'll wait for cooler weather.
Then in one of the urban homesteading email updates I get I spotted a mention of making apple cider vinegar and how easy it was. Given I use quite a bit of this I promptly googled to find a recipe and came across this one. As our apple trees have been busy shedding handfuls of squitty little apples that are way too small to normally be bothered with along with several half-pecked larger ones each day it seemed worth trying the scraps method as let's face it that's all you're left with once you've cut away the wormy/bruised bits. I'm planning to use the vinegar for the rosemary hair rinse I make, once I've got making it properly sussed hopefully I can bottle up enough to use in the kitchen too, but I might use more edible looking apples for human consumption! I started it off a couple of weeks ago and it has a very distinctive vinegary smell so fingers crossed.... I'm now hoarding more bits of apple in the freezer ready for the next batch!
I was hoping our tomato crop would increase now we seem to be regularly getting a bit more rain at last, they've been a bit slow this year, but it doesn't look promising. I want to get some frozen either whole/halved or as passata for use later in the year but so far we're eating them as fast as they ripen! I generally don't use tinned tomatoes when I'm cooking for just me & Phyllis, but when we've got Joanne & Oscar here too they get used fairly regularly. I should probably just buy some from the market to cook up then at least I know they are local.
We have (okay, Phyllis has...) spent the last few weeks peeling and chopping peaches by the basketful - my role in this is mostly collecting/picking them. Our trees really seem to have appreciated the pruning they got and have been absolutely laden. Many fall off already going brown and/or split, but they are so tasty they are worth cutting up for the good bits. The freezer is gradually being stocked up with a stack of 2ltr containers of stewed peaches plus we've bottled some. Joanne made a batch of chutney but it is a tad spicy for Phyllis so I made a milder second batch, once we'd scrounged some empty jars! We've given away several bucketloads, as well as a similar quantity of quinces. As the quinces are much harder to peel and cut that task falls to me.
The grapes have been prolific this year too - I've tried making some grape juice, but I'm not a big fruit juice drinker so there's little incentive to go into mass production! Joanne has made some grape jam, but I'd rather make something less sweet... Anyway there are plenty volunteers to take the fresh fruit off our hands, including the blackbirds!
It is good that we have a community of friends around us keen to share surplus garden produce. There is very little that gets wasted here. We have a regular supply of free free-range eggs coming in, and locally caught fish for Phyllis. Those we supply with fruit tend to bring us jars of whatever they've made with it in return. Home 'grown' honey, olive oil and firewood are supplied by family so we really are in the thick of an alternative economy here.
The EcoCentre, where our local TimeBank has a physical base along with several other community groups, now has a seed swap stand - bring along your surplus seeds you've collected and swap them for others, or put a koha in the box if you don't have anything to swap in. We've only had it going a couple of weeks and it is building up nicely. The great advantage of swapping seeds is you know they are plants that have obviously done reasonably well locally. We also have some plants for sale on the trading table, again ones that are surplus to requirements in one place ready to be re-homed.
Keeping things local and enabling locals to support each other towards a more regionally self-sufficient state is a big part of the kaupapa here. We're vulnerable in the Far North to being cut off from the rest of the country by flooding and regular landslips, and despite recent promises of upgrading bridges in the region (oh what it is to have a by-election that could change the balance of power in the government!), people are waking up to the fact that we need to be more self sufficient up here, more resilient. Being able to feed ourselves and each other regardless of whether the main highways are passable or not is a big part of this. We're resource rich really, we just need to be better organised at distributing what we have locally, and it not having to head down to Whāngārei or Auckland to come back again like the milk does!
Maybe the revolution is just a bag of groceries (rather than a t-shirt) away....
After Marion's comments about how little probiotics are actually in yoghurt I'd been thinking about trying fermented foods, especially as I kept seeing references to a Facebook group about it that a former colleague is in. Admittedly I was initially planning to buy some sauerkraut from the healthfood shop, but whenever I thought of it they were out of stock. Probably just as well as I then came across this article which explains how much better home made is. So I thought I'd have a go at making sauerkraut, from homegrown cabbages no less! Granted they were rather pathetic specimens, as brassicas and hot dry weather don't mix very well, but still homegrown none the less. A quick trawl of the local op/charity shops produced a suitable vessel (a re-purposed ceramic coffee crock!) as I couldn't find anything at home the right shape/size. As it has a lid it'd do fine to store the finished product in too. Unfortunately I hadn't taken into consideration just how hot it has been and didn't add enough extra brine over the top so it dried out and went icky, but lesson learned and at least it was with cabbages that would've probably ended up on the compost heap anyway! I'll definitely have another go although I'll wait for cooler weather.
Then in one of the urban homesteading email updates I get I spotted a mention of making apple cider vinegar and how easy it was. Given I use quite a bit of this I promptly googled to find a recipe and came across this one. As our apple trees have been busy shedding handfuls of squitty little apples that are way too small to normally be bothered with along with several half-pecked larger ones each day it seemed worth trying the scraps method as let's face it that's all you're left with once you've cut away the wormy/bruised bits. I'm planning to use the vinegar for the rosemary hair rinse I make, once I've got making it properly sussed hopefully I can bottle up enough to use in the kitchen too, but I might use more edible looking apples for human consumption! I started it off a couple of weeks ago and it has a very distinctive vinegary smell so fingers crossed.... I'm now hoarding more bits of apple in the freezer ready for the next batch!
I was hoping our tomato crop would increase now we seem to be regularly getting a bit more rain at last, they've been a bit slow this year, but it doesn't look promising. I want to get some frozen either whole/halved or as passata for use later in the year but so far we're eating them as fast as they ripen! I generally don't use tinned tomatoes when I'm cooking for just me & Phyllis, but when we've got Joanne & Oscar here too they get used fairly regularly. I should probably just buy some from the market to cook up then at least I know they are local.
We have (okay, Phyllis has...) spent the last few weeks peeling and chopping peaches by the basketful - my role in this is mostly collecting/picking them. Our trees really seem to have appreciated the pruning they got and have been absolutely laden. Many fall off already going brown and/or split, but they are so tasty they are worth cutting up for the good bits. The freezer is gradually being stocked up with a stack of 2ltr containers of stewed peaches plus we've bottled some. Joanne made a batch of chutney but it is a tad spicy for Phyllis so I made a milder second batch, once we'd scrounged some empty jars! We've given away several bucketloads, as well as a similar quantity of quinces. As the quinces are much harder to peel and cut that task falls to me.
The grapes have been prolific this year too - I've tried making some grape juice, but I'm not a big fruit juice drinker so there's little incentive to go into mass production! Joanne has made some grape jam, but I'd rather make something less sweet... Anyway there are plenty volunteers to take the fresh fruit off our hands, including the blackbirds!
It is good that we have a community of friends around us keen to share surplus garden produce. There is very little that gets wasted here. We have a regular supply of free free-range eggs coming in, and locally caught fish for Phyllis. Those we supply with fruit tend to bring us jars of whatever they've made with it in return. Home 'grown' honey, olive oil and firewood are supplied by family so we really are in the thick of an alternative economy here.
The EcoCentre, where our local TimeBank has a physical base along with several other community groups, now has a seed swap stand - bring along your surplus seeds you've collected and swap them for others, or put a koha in the box if you don't have anything to swap in. We've only had it going a couple of weeks and it is building up nicely. The great advantage of swapping seeds is you know they are plants that have obviously done reasonably well locally. We also have some plants for sale on the trading table, again ones that are surplus to requirements in one place ready to be re-homed.
Keeping things local and enabling locals to support each other towards a more regionally self-sufficient state is a big part of the kaupapa here. We're vulnerable in the Far North to being cut off from the rest of the country by flooding and regular landslips, and despite recent promises of upgrading bridges in the region (oh what it is to have a by-election that could change the balance of power in the government!), people are waking up to the fact that we need to be more self sufficient up here, more resilient. Being able to feed ourselves and each other regardless of whether the main highways are passable or not is a big part of this. We're resource rich really, we just need to be better organised at distributing what we have locally, and it not having to head down to Whāngārei or Auckland to come back again like the milk does!
Maybe the revolution is just a bag of groceries (rather than a t-shirt) away....
Sunday, March 08, 2015
passing through...
A couple of days ago my Facebook feed was full of death, dying, and remembering those we've lost. I'd also spent several hours trawling through emails and files for Testimonies to the grace of god in the life of various Friends in our Yearly Meeting, some of which are just names to me, others well loved and much missed f/Friends. We never know quite how many other lives we touch as we pass through our own, who will remember us, who will mourn our passing.
I'm feeling grateful to have been a part of so many lives, sometimes just a fairly small part, and/or a long ago part, but a part none the less. Each and every one of them has helped shape me into who I am today, we're all ripples in each others' ponds.
Giving thanks for the lives of those who have passed on, celebrating who they were to each of us, keeping them alive in our hearts bears out the words of William Penn (1693) 'They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.Death cannot kill what never dies. Nor can spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same Divine Principle, the root and record of their friendship. If absence be not death, neither is theirs.'
I'm feeling grateful to have been a part of so many lives, sometimes just a fairly small part, and/or a long ago part, but a part none the less. Each and every one of them has helped shape me into who I am today, we're all ripples in each others' ponds.
Giving thanks for the lives of those who have passed on, celebrating who they were to each of us, keeping them alive in our hearts bears out the words of William Penn (1693) 'They that love beyond the world cannot be separated by it.Death cannot kill what never dies. Nor can spirits ever be divided that love and live in the same Divine Principle, the root and record of their friendship. If absence be not death, neither is theirs.'
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