Some People

We've tried to communicate how much we'd love to host any family or friends who wanted to visit us in New Zealand.  Hopefully you all know how welcome you are! 




I felt honoured that three of my long-time friends visited last month.  It was such a special visit for me, for so many reasons that I'll never be able to put into words. 

Jen, optimistic, intelligent, curious, active in both mind and body, and who arrived in time to sing a memorable musical number in our branch. 

Intuiting the casual pose

Melissa, a unique combination of thoughtful, humble, and can-do.  I've never enjoyed jumping in the sea with anyone more than you!  

HollyS would have gladly entered an adventure race with me if we'd had time, and she jumped at the chance to walk across a wire bridge.  Holly loves gardens and trees, but her most vibrant interest is in the people around her.

One especially memorable moment for me was seeing hundreds glowworms in the bush at the end of the Timber Trail.  We finished in the dark, or else we would have missed this magical scene. 



All three of these friends are unusual, extraordinary, and precious to me.  I loved showing New Zealand to them.




Links to previous reunions:
Capitol Reef 2018
London 2017
Palm Springs 2016/17
Michigan 2015
Hawaii 2014

Farmer Jones, Part 2

Farm Life, by Oak Jones

March 2, 2019

The most of men don’t go there alive

The ones that do rarely survive

I braved the place at seventeen

I went to hell... and scrubbed it clean

Oh yes this tale has many a wonder

A fantastical myth of hush and thunder

And though myth it must appear to you

I know myself, it’s as true as true

The gnashing of teeth, the steaming of sweat

The melting of body and mind I met

The unbearable heat, the unbreathable air

And yes indeed the devil was there

But this yarn of yarns begins before

I dared dive through that demonic door

Like civilised folk at the beginning let’s start

When easy my burden and easy my heart

Within the border of land far yonder

Upon a time I worked and wandered

Flowing in milk and honey and beer

I woke each morning with yawnful cheer

My hands would wear and crack and heal

I cooked and relished every meal

The sun would rise, dissolving the mist

In red and orange and stunning bliss

On a morning alive and crisp as that

Robert called I to the calf milk vat

I gulped my breath and stifled my snout

For the stench of evil was lurking about

Filled with mastitis milk dredges, chunks of rot

Vomited cream oder, gaseas grot

And boiling putridity which burbled and curdled

I knew I gazed upon the netherworld

Robert, he smiled. How? I know not

Handed me a broom and warned me, “It’s hot”  

A few moments I faltered and purposely delayed

But faithful and true his command I obeyed

With a gulping inhale and a small broom

I clambered into that terrible room

Lowering myself down from the top

The final meter I had to let go and drop

An inescapable feeling of complete restriction

Caught in my throat, daunting my diction

I lifted the brush but my arm could tell

It would not be so easy to clean out hell

First into the bereaved broth beneath

The brush must be dunked to wet its teeth

Then bristling with boiling beads of dross

The broom I raised to show who was boss

Oh how intense and ruthless the heat!

My gumboots melted onto my feet

Oh how awfully glumpy the air!

My lot was up, I would die in there

Sweat did not drip as in this world

It flowed out then straight to steam it curled

Garbed in a fleece and buff as well

I had not dressed to go to hell

Losing life with every plunge

The walls were finally freed of skunge

How long they took to escape the grime

I know not, that place lacked time

But woe be me, how foul, how cruel!

The walls were but a kiddie pool

The devil laughed his goosebump cackle

For next the ceiling I must tackle

Begone from loss of air and earth

But egged to act by Satanic mirth

I plunged my brush and clenched my face

If die I must, clean would be my resting place!

My flesh was weak, my blood was thin

Drops singed my hair and eyes and skin

Yet drawing strength from deep within

Down plunged the brush... and up again

At longer last, collapse was nigh

One last lift, one last cry

One back and forth elbow grease

One last blemish rest in peace

A stagger toward the hole above

A passage back to life and love

As my internal organs fried

A helping hand was supplied

With a final lunge and heroic flail

I escaped and lived to tell this tale

Indeed ah ha, oosh oosh, the end.

Take a moment my good friend

For soon you’ll move from here to grave

Hopefully from heaven you’ll smile and wave

However, if not, oh heck, oh well

Enjoy charcoaling forever in hell

If all seems sin and strife down there

It probably is, give up, despair

If all is infernal as I describe

Then you’ll know I yarn no lie

If all is fire and brimstone and gore

You’re welcome! It’s cleaner than before.

Farmer Jones

I hope that some of my overseas readers will APPRECIATE this post about Oak's milking job.  

When I mention Oak's job to people around here, I get sympathetic - but respectful - groans and sorry looks.  I'm counting on some of you overseas folks to see the GLAMOR and HUMAN INTEREST in Oak's job that I see. 

How many people get to spend five months living in a remote area of New Zealand, working 11-hour days as a farmhand?

850 cows need to be milked twice a day.

in the milking shed

how Oak gets around the farm and rounds up the cows

the front porch of the house where Oak lives with Tony ("Woozle")

Mercy and Noah got to work alongside Oak for a few hours.

I woke up to see Oak and Noah off at 3:45AM, but then I gratefully went back to bed.

'Cups on.'
Oak and Noah took about an hour to round the cows up from their paddock and herd them to the milking shed.

Mercy, too

another view of the house where Oak lives

I took this photo while standing near Oak's house, but looking away from the house and out toward the dairy shed.

Oak's bosses are Poppy's aunt and uncle, who have made Oak welcome in many ways.  According to Oak, all of the employees appreciate working for such good people.

There's not much that the bosses can do about the fact that there is VERY LITTLE cell phone coverage . . . but they HAVE stocked two freezers with beef.  

In addition, Oak drinks as much fresh milk as he wants - warm from the cow or cool from the vat.

Cooled milk comes out of a firehose-sized spigot on the side of this vat.

Oak has discovered that 1) butter is expensive, and 2) he can MAKE butter by taking some fresh milk in some small jars when he goes on his daily run.

Oak appreciates sunrises.

"majesticow" - Oak

nothing like a gumboot tan and an intense look

Besides the manual labor, Oak writes poetry, reads cool books, stir-fries vegetables, attends the 4-person church in Gore, and goes on epic adventures on his days off. 

We played Code Names and Scum, but, on our last night together, this drawing game took the cake, and we "laughed until we cried."  -Noah

I feel very thankful that we had the chance to visit Oak and glimpse his life on the farm.

Books:

Thanks, Jen

Twizel and the Greenstone: South Island Summer 2018-19

We traveled to the South Island with 3 goals:

• visit Cory in Twizel 
• hike the Rees-Dart track (later we decided to switch to the Caples-Greenstone)
• visit Oak in Clydevale

1- Visiting Cory in Twizel

    Cory is Noah's good friend from high school.  He is a 3rd-year engineering student at Canterbury with a summer internship in Twizel.  Cory and his brother, Cal, are training for the Coast-to-Coast race in February.

  Cory showed up at our campsite with his kit.

This is the campsite where Sage attempted to skip a rock and, instead, sliced Joyce under her eye.

The next day, Cory took us to North Temple Fork, where he, Noah, and Mercy hiked/ran up one valley, over a saddle, and back down a different valley...

...and the rest of us hiked part of the way, ending at a beautiful cirque.

I counted 11 main waterfalls in a semicircle around me in the cirque.  It felt like a special place.

MAVY is a good place to play games when it's wet or dark.  

A couple of days later we drove down to Glenorchy and to our old friend, Sylvan Lakes Campground, to prepared for a 5-day tramp.

A reminder that traveling is only glamorous is retrospect. 

How to Convince your 7- and 10-year-olds that they want to go backpacking . . . again?

  2- The Caples-Greenstone Track

The swim spot on Day #1

We slept in huts at night.  They were at full capacity.

Lunch Day #2

A homemade "Code Names" game.

above the Greenstone Valley on our rest day

Oak caught up with us for Day #4 and #5

 This track was longer than our recent Around-the-Mountain tramp, but the trail felt easier because it was less technical.

Classic South Island scenery - glacier valley, clear streams, and no other people.  

Swim spot on Day #4

It rained on Day #5, but, even in the rain, look at the color of the Greenstone River!

Joyce pulls through.

Highlights:  Looking at Noah's uni photos on the ferry. Mercy opening her birthday gifts from Noah (light-weight hammock and a camping bowl). Dolphins jumping in the sea near Kaikoura.  Family church in MAVY on Lake Pukaki with a storm rolling in.  Stretching session with Cory.  Math games on the trail.  Pitfruit.  Dunedin.  Visiting the Nicholsons in Christchurch.  Finding our exact same lunch spot and swimming hole on our drive back up to the ferry.


Keeping it Real:  Lots of driving.  Lots.  Some rain.  No A/C in MAVY.  Lots of sandflies.  Lots.  Lost hat and sunglasses.  One hut without any more available bunks by the time we arrived.  Random stress and frustrations.  Loud snoring in every hut.  Noah's Achilles tendon.  Expensive gas and groceries.  Repairing MAVY's tire alignment.  Seasick on the ferry back home (but Sage won the ferry coloring contest!)

Sunflower surprise when we arrived home!

Books: