The loss of 'one'.

This morning I was having an argument with someone in my head. Do you ever do that? It's kind of a useless exercise but my brain was doing its floating thing and sometimes that brings good ideas to the surface. So today I was imagining myself telling this particular person, 'You can't think like that'.

Uh oh. In today's world, you can't say those sorts of things. At least, I'd be very hesitant. But what to do? I thought how much better it would be if I could say 'one' instead, as in 'One can't think like that'. Less personal, so maybe more acceptable.

It strikes me that generally, everything has to be more personal these days. Maybe that has something to do with individuality (?) In any case, we are losing the use of 'one', even though this usage can sometimes be found in articles or essays that originate in England.

I find this a bit of a pity. But I need to keep up with the times, especially as a writer of fiction. And here the increase in the personal is marked. Writing advice encourages us to use what's known as 'third person deep point of view'. This means that everything is filtered through the eyes and experience of the main character. The reader very quickly engages, which is the big advantage.

I suppose we all have our natural perspective, for some of us closer than others. Mine, I have to confess, has always been somewhat distanced and that makes it difficult for me to write in this most modern way. I find it easier to use first person, but I'm trying to learn the technique. Luckily, although I might have thought about saying 'one', it never enters my head to actually do so!

Friendly mirrors

"I love this mirror." My dear aunt Katty said, regarding her reflection and tweaking her hairstyle.

She was visiting us in our South African 'cottage' i.e. holiday home by the sea.

I didn't see anything special about that particular mirror, although it was pretty enough, with its curlicued frame of white-painted wrought iron.

"Why?" I asked.

"'Cos it makes me look thinner."

I'd never thought of such a phenomenon, but ever since then I've occasionally come across mirrors that enhance or detract. Most recently, buying clothes on sale in an upmarket store I wondered if the owners had ever considered theirs. It's one of those establishments where you have to leave the cubicle in order to see how you look (hate that!). The three-way mirror is flawed and makes you (me) look like a dumpling. Not a good idea from the retail side.

Anyhow, I'm happy to tell you that the bathroom mirror in our new abode is a friendly one. This is nice because I can start off the day feeling good about myself. And, even though I don't subscribe to the idea that we should all be slim, but rather that we all have our optimum weight, whether it be on the thinner or fatter side, I like that.

Into the clothes closet

Are you a clothes hoarder? I don't mean, 'do you have too many in your closet', rather I mean this...

A couple of weeks ago my husband and I went to buy some clothes on the sales. So I got a couple of new pairs of jeans, a linen dress and a tee shirt type top. When we got home, I carefully put them away and doubt I'll wear any of them before next summer.

Meanwhile, my husband bought a light jacket, socks and two pairs of shorts. He's worn one of the latter, as well as the socks and the jacket... that was, after I'd cut off the labels and thrown them in the paper recycling.

So I was wondering... What's that all about? Why do I keep the new things rather than wearing them? I suspect this has to do with living in South Africa. During the days when my mother was still alive and we used to meet for morning coffee and shopping every Tuesday (so very glad we did that! They were special times.) we used to buy some imported clothes. Now, if you think about it, we were in the Southern Hemisphere so the seasons didn't tally. This meant buying garments and not being able to wear them for quite a few months.

What I discovered then was this: there's something rather delicious about knowing you have something new and nice to wear, just waiting patiently in the closet. So I guess that's when I acquired the habit of being a closet hoarder.

How about you?

On moving in

Our new abode is feeling like it's our home... pretty much. Even though we got things in order pretty quickly, the soul stuff still takes time, you know? One problem of course is that you unpack, put things away, but the cupboards, shelves and drawers are different and you can't find anything! Then there are the items that go missing....

This happened to our bread knife.

Why bother with a bread knife? I hear you ask. Well see, we like different size slices and often find the ready-sliced bread too thick. But more than that, whether it's my imagination or not, I think bread Tastes different when it's been machine-sliced. Hand-sliced feels better.

Maybe I've mentioned our dear late friend Jeanne Malherbe, she who was the pioneer bio-dynamic farmer in the Cape, South Africa. She made wonderful, healthy bread but she also did something I envied, she could hold a loaf and cut it towards her heart. Isn't that special?

Anyhow, I digress. Our bread knife went missing. I knew it was unpacked on the day we moved in because I saw it lying on the kitchen counter, thus...

Now, I hope you'll agree this is a special kind of bread knife. It would be hard to find a replacement, let alone that this belonged to my mother and so the sentimental value is huge... I can think of her each time I hold it in my hand. Anyhow, I went off in search of a new one, and was put off by the price.

So we made do. My husband sliced the bread with the ham knife as well as he could. Two months went by. Then one day it was raining when we needed to leave the house. I opened the hall closet and patted the top shelf, looking for my small folding umbrella. Something metal moved under my fingers... and lo and behold, there was the knife!

My husband must have used it in the hall for opening one or two or three of the packing boxes and placed it up there, out of the way.

In any case, thank you dear house spirits. I'm glad you're becoming friendly towards these new intruders.... I mean, occupants.

In defense of 'should'

So, in certain circles where I hang out, there seems to be a campaign to eliminate 'should' from our vocabulary. Now, I well understand that people feel it's an attack on personal freedom to tell someone they 'should' do something. Personally, though, I think 'should' can be helpful. Even between man and wife!

Yes, I appreciate it (mostly) when my husband suggests I should do this or that. Sometimes I balk, but even then, after some thought, I'll probably admit he's right. And that's helpful. The suggestion might be purely on the practical level, something to do with my physical health, or even on the soul and/or social level. So I come around and experience the benefit. More and more I realize that a marriage partnership provides opportunities for growth if you can allow them into your heart.

This whole subject came up for me just recently. Most Thursday evenings I enjoy an 'artistic' conversation with my son-in-law, the artist Richard Heys (see http://www.richardianheys.co.uk). We talk about the ups and downs of living the creative life, share inspirations and so forth. I also, of course, follow Richard on facebook where he posts photos of his latest work and also news of upcoming exhibitions and other small and big triumphs. Most recently one of his paintings has been shortlisted for a prize. You can see it right there, on the website.

Now Richard also writes most beautifully and has wonderful titles for his paintings. So I said to him, 'You should always put up the titles of your paintings.'

Anyone have an argument with that?

Farewell to the old home

On Thursday, mourning doves were cooing when we arrived at our old house for the final cleanup and to say 'farewell'. My husband and I were both a little tearful and since then I've been puzzling over 'why' our emotions welled up in this way. Maybe because we experienced so much love and light in that home?

Still, it's strange, because we are already making the new place our own and know that we'll be happy here. Nevertheless, the heart has it's reasons and sometimes it's hard to figure out what they're all about! Partly, I believe, how we feel about moving to a new situation has something to do with the balance of push and pull. When, in late 1992, we were thinking about leaving South Africa because the opportunity to come to North America had arisen, we wanted it very much to be about the pull, rather than the push to get out of what was then a very uncertain future. Yes, it felt good and right to come here. And truly, it does feel good and right that we're where we are now. Truly.

Learning the ropes... and the quirks!

We're slowly expanding into our new environment. That means not only unpacking, sorting, arranging, discarding and contemplating, but also acquiring new habits. For instance, locking and unlocking the front door a different way from what we've been used to; discovering how our new, fancier stove works and becoming reconciled to the fact that it's electric not gas. And we discovered a small leak in the roof, not when the rain was pouring down (chucking it down as they say in the UK!) yesterday, but a week or so ago when the rain was fairly light. We think the drips had something to do with the wind direction.

Well, this is an old house. Built in 1964, one of my least favourite periods in the history of architecture. But you know what? It's nice to live in. Apparently this particular model was featured in Chatelaine magazine as a marvel of modernity. This is what it looks like:

I suppose every house has its quirks. In our old (much newer) home, the light switch for the second bathroom was behind the door!

A minute ago I heard the click-like bang of our letter box being closed. Something else to get used to. No more heading out to the communal boxes for us even though looking for letters was always a welcome excuse to get outside. Except on really cold, windy, blizzard-like winter days of course! And yes, I do still receive the odd birthday card and letter. Very welcome they are too!

Creating a new (old) home

Over the last three months or so my life, energies and thoughts have been busy with selling and moving house. What a challenging journey it's been. Maybe the whole process was difficult because we loved our old place so much... it was full of light and happy memories. And my husband had "just got the garden right". i.e. the soil via bio-dynamics, the flower beds and the veggies. All this meant it was hard to let go, although we knew a downsize would be an admirable idea.

My goodness, I had no idea we had accumulated so much stuff!!! Hopefully I'll be more conscious of what comes in through the door in future. We've taken bags and boxes full to the Salvation Army (thanks for that outlet) and some furniture has gone to auction. But now that we've actually moved into the new house, there's more that needs sorting and dealing with.

So we have new spaces to fill and decorate in order to make this new dwelling our home. What struck me were these questions: Do I simply go with what's already been done as far as furniture arrangement, picture hanging and so on? Or should I take the opportunity to rethink and recreate? It's nice to feel embraced by familiar surroundings but I'm sure it's also good to shake things up a bit. So I'm thinking some of each is a good idea.

Wish me luck and inspiration!

Fashion descriptions

Dear blog,

Many apologies for the lack of posts. See, I've been moving house. It's been a huge upheaval (but good in the end) and I'll write more soon. The thing is, it's not that I haven't had ideas and words fluttering through my head, but rather haven't found the moment to actually sit down at my computer. In fact, in general over the last two months, computer work has been minimal.

Anyhow, on the lighter side, today I'm wearing a new pair of red cropped pants... what I would have called trousers before moving to North America. Of course red pants were more of a thing a couple of summers ago, but hey, they look cheerful and fit well. As is fairly usual for me, I bought them on sale at the end of the last season.

These pants reach to a couple of inches above my ankle, so you might call them cropped. Which set me thinking how the fashion world changes its descriptions over the years. A bit-below-the-knees once upon a time might be called clam diggers (are they still??) or pedal pushers. I must confess, I rather like the latter term especially as the day is warm, the wind minimal, and I'm going to take time out now for a bit of a bike ride.

The way things change

"Nobody uses cups and saucers anymore," my cousin said when I last visited her in Cape Town. "So I'm giving you tea in a mug, even though my mother must be turning in her grave."

I think both her statements are pretty close to the truth. Ask yourself, when last did you drink tea out of a cup and saucer? My answer would be: This morning. But I confess I use a mug at various times, oh yes. That's usually when I'm making tea for just me and not my husband, who tends to drink hot water.

Anyhow, I was think about this, and why a saucer is actually quite useful. First of all, it protects the table or other surface underneath the cup from heat, thus eliminating the need for a coaster. Next, it provides a convenient place for your teaspoon. And lastly, perhaps most important, a nice little cache for your tea-time cookie!

So please, folks, don't ditch all your cups and saucers. You never know when I might be coming to tea! ;-)

Consider the lilies.

As you may know, we are in the process of selling our house and downsizing. This means taking the opportunity to get rid of as much as we can. It's easy to take things to the charity shops, but we'd also like to sell some stuff.

On the other hand, when people come to view our property, we have to be out.

So it happened that yesterday afternoon we went to a cafe not too far away for coffee and to pass the time. I picked up the March 2014 copy of 'O' magazine and, ta daa, lo and behold, it was all about decluttering! Not only that, but it mentioned some websites that are sure to be useful. It's so nice when help comes from unexpected sources. Gratitude, yeah.

Having our home in top shape for viewing has also meant that we made some changes. We used to have a mirror in our bedroom which is now hanging in the hall. I can't tell you how many times I've turned to the wall to check if I look okay and if my hair's tidy (thanks Dad). Instead I find myself staring at the painting of my eighteen-year-old self. I can tell you, it's a shock. But I'm sure it'll happen again tomorrow or the next day, 'cos habit is a very very very strong thing.

A tree is a thing of wonder

Do you have a relationship with a particular tree or trees?

This morning I looked out my bedroom window across the road at a pair of pine trees and I realized how much I'll miss them when we move to our new home. Almost the hardest things to leave behind when we last moved were my two beloved birch trees, one that grew outside our kitchen, the other outside my writing room. They became such companions to me as I watched them through the four seasons: the catkins of spring, the tender green leaves and the way they'd quiver in the breeze, the golden pennies of autumn, the bare skeleton of the branches in winter, and always, always the beautiful bark.

There's already a spruce in our new front garden, but maybe I'll plant a birch in the back.

I've always been focussed more on the inner life than outer nature. Now, in this third age, I'm striving to redress the balance. Take the middle way, as it were. However, it was some twenty five or more years ago when I first developed a relationship with a tree. I had to spend ten days in hospital in Cape Town. My ward looked over the Main Road to Claremont public gardens, a place much favoured for wedding photographs. Directly opposite my window, though, grew a beautiful fir. As I lay for long hours, looking at the shape, the colour, the branches, the needles, something began to reach out and touch me, as it were. There was a kind of stirring in my soul. Yes, surely, a tree is a wonderful thing!

Ah that Irish accent!

Years ago my husband had a colleague who was Irish. Occasionally I'd find him on the end of the line when I answered the phone (no cell phones in those days!), and I'd do my best to keep him talking because that Irish lilt in his voice was music to my ears. There's a kind of liquidity to the consonants that is so appealing.

I know that accents vary greatly on this North American continent of ours, but I have to wonder if the general American accent derives quite largely from the Irish. Of course there are other factors at work, what I would call etheric geography, that influence the way we speak. I found it interesting that the New Zealanders flatten their 'e's in much the same way as South Africans.

But recently I've been wondering about why the Americans say 'ass' when referring to their rear end, rather than 'arse' as the English do. I saw both of these written recently and was reminded of my dad. 'Arse' was considered an impolite word when I was a child. He used to sing a silly song:

'Ask your mother for sixpence to see the tall giraffe
With a pimple on his nose and a pimple on his...

Ask your mother...' etc.

So I guess this splitting came about because Americans use the short 'a' rather than the longer 'ah'. My mother's Irish/Scottish roots had her saying 'dancing', whereas my dad used to take me to 'dahncing'.

Now, somewhat to my distress, our American/English language seems to be going in yet another direction. That is, people say 'ay' for the indefinite article. Like, "I'm now going to drink ay cup of coffee". I think that makes you sound like an ass. And this time I mean a donkey!!

Wearing the Green

Yes, I'll be wearing my pin-tucked, Banana Republic emerald-green silk blouse today in honour of St. Patrick. Such an interesting saint, don't you think?

It was around 1990 when I paid my one and only visit to Ireland. On arrival at Cork airport, I discovered I had a couple of hours to wait before I could catch the bus to Dunvegan, where my elder son would be waiting for me... I hoped!

There I saw many pamphlets available with offers to help you find your Irish ancestors. That was the moment I realized something that had hardly entered my consciousness before: 'Hey, my great-grandfather was Irish.' So that was why my grandmother used to exclaim 'Thank the Pope!' when she was grateful and relieved, even though she was brought up by a strictly Calvinistic step-mother!!

We spent a wonderful weekend. The weather was kind and we were able to tour around a bit. The air was kind of tingly and I felt as if at any minute I might perceive a leprechaun peeping at me from around one of those low stone walls. That made me think about how many of the Irish are naturally clairvoyant, and wonder too if that's why many of them are famous drinkers. We know from Rudolf Steiner that drinking alcohol can kill clairvoyance. Both my mother and my grandmother were somewhat clairvoyant, and they both had a tendency towards alcohol which they fortunately managed to control.

My only regret about that magical weekend was that we didn't get to go to the pub and enjoy some traditional Irish fiddling! And no, in case you're interested, as a rule I don't drink.

The Bright Side

Preparing our home for selling has meant that we've done our spring cleaning. Yay! And man, does that feel good. However, it strikes me as a strange thing, that the more meticulously you get into all those neglected corners and crannies, the more aware you become of where the dirt lurks. I'm seeing places that never entered my consciousness before. For instance, with my trusty lambswool duster in hand, I went into our two bathrooms and powder room to dust the top of the four big round globes (Fat Alberts to the cognoscenti) that form the 'light' part of their light fixtures. This was yesterday. Today I go into the bathroom and realize I neglected the shiny metal strip that anchors them.

Ah well, I wielded my trusty lance again and dust was gone.

Then there's the off loading. I did mention a downsize, didn't I? But truly, I've been horrified at the amount of stuff we've been shipping off to the thrift stores, charity shops for my UK readers, op shops (as in 'opportunity') for those in New Zealand. Now I have to tell you that, before we left South Africa I went through our home three times. It looks as if I'll have to do the same thing again.

I guess the thing is that although we enter this earthly world with nothing, and leave it with nothing, in between we.... accumulate. There must be a bell curve to this, or some other diagram. It's easy to see why we have more things when we're in the young family stage and teenager stage and young adult stage. I still have books from when our children were young, and still find it causes me a pang to get rid of the old favourites. Luckily a few of them can go to the grandsons. The rest, I hope, will bring enjoyable reading to some other, unknown, children.

And now, dear readers, I'm off to create some of that 'enjoyable reading'. I hope!

I'm glad I'm not an art director.

We're selling our house. And yes, the 'stager' came and gave us a consultation. Actually, a very lovely lady and she made excellent suggestions. The only trouble is, I'm now feeling like an old Flanders And Swann song, 'We're terribly House and Garden at number 7B'. Years ago we saw their witty show in London (whatever happened to witty? Do we find it anywhere today? Just asking...)

I tried to find this song on youtube, but you can only listen to it here, at around the 6 mark
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dCdshepGguI. The first ditty was certainly apt during the years we lived in London, so you might enjoy giving that a listen as well.

Anyhow, the punch line of the first mentioned song is: 'We actually live at number 7A, In the house next door!'

Not that we live with our neighbours, friendly though they are. It's simply that our house looks as if no-one lives here and that feels kind of weird. Also, I kind of resent putting energy into making everything look 'just so', and the weird thing is, the more I do it, the more details I notice that need attending to. Fiddling can take up quite a bit of time, but let's hope that'll all be worth it in the end.

Excuse me now, I'm off to straighten, maybe even comb, the fringe of that rug over there...

With a little help from a stranger

We're spring cleaning, also with a view to putting our house on the market. Now, usually we buy eco-friendly products, but after six years our white kitchen cupboards were in need of something stronger. So my husband set off for the supermarket to see what he could find.
In the cleaning products aisle he came upon a woman. She had opened a washing product and was holding the plastic bottle under her nose.
"Whatever you do, don't drink that!" My husband joked.
So she explained she was simply checking the scent.
He wandered a bit further and stood staring at the confusion of bottles. She came back.
"Can I help you? You look lost?"
"You're right about that."
Well, she advised on the right kind of sponge to use, one that wouldn't scratch. Then she plucked a product off the shelves.
"This is what you need," she said, and opened it and thrust the bottle under my husband's nose.
He recoiled and exhorted, "Whatever you do, don't squeeze!"
They had a good chuckle.
Anyhow, her recommendations worked a charm. Thanks lady!

The drawbacks of being in the third age (for a writer!)

At the moment I'm busy writing a novella to publish soon after I get my two new contemporary, chicklitty romances up as ebooks. For this post, the key word is 'contemporary' because it's important for my writing vocabulary to stay current. This is not so easy to achieve, simply because I don't hang out with many twenty and thirty year olds!

My big dilemma right now is an adjective I have close to the beginning of my story... a vital place because that's where I want to draw readers in and not put them off. So I describe a bar as 'trendy'. But now I'm agonizing and asking advice as to whether this works or not. I was going to substitute 'popular', but that conveys a crowded venue and I'm not sure that's right for the situation.

In general, I delight in overhearing new vernacular expressions and terms. The best times were where when I used to ride the bus in Brighton. My ears would be flapping! I suppose there's a deeper explanation of the fact that language is constantly changing and this is, surely, proof that we as human beings are constantly evolving. Let's just pray we're going in the right direction!

Benefit and blessing of being in the third age

These days, most days, I enjoy the luxury of waking up slowly. That is, I don't have to spring out of bed and get ready for the day job. In fact, I find my writing day can be inspired by thoughts and insights that come to me after I've enjoyed my early-morning cup of tea -- courtesy of my beloved husband.

But apart from musings, sometimes songs and music come to mind. For instance, when I was still half asleep this morning, I got 'Beyond the blue horizon'. And yes, the dawn sky was indeed blue, with a touch of pink to blush it up a bit.

Later, as I gazed out the window at the bare branches of the maple tree, what floated into my mind was 'The Rustle of Spring' by Christian Sinding... although I hadn't registered that the branches were swaying slightly.

Take a listen:

Daniel Sabbah plays Sinding Rustle of spring - YouTube

www.youtube.com/watch?v=-StHeHGyakY‎

Where that came from, I have no idea. It zoomed me back into my childhood. In those days, many of our friends had pianos, and this was a popular piece to play. I'm sure my cousin Pam used to play it for me so I could dance around, improvising. It was a popular piece for ballet. I saw it at an eistedfodd I took part in once. No, I didn't win. I did, however, enjoying being a 'firefly', and specially loved my short tutu, orange, and shot through with gold threads!

So I'm wondering, is it just me? And where and why do these bits of music come into my mind?

Visiting the big city

As they say on the answering services, I'm away from my desk until next week. So, as a place-keeper, here's a pic of what I was up to on Monday night. Thanks to the organizers of NightOutWithAuthors.blogspot.ca

See you next week, Tuesday or Wednesday when I'm settled down enough to catch some thoughts!

p.s. Last words on our stay in New Zealand

We were fortunate enough to have five days 'off-duty' from the family. So we hired a car and drove to visit a friend in the beautiful country north of Auckland not too far from where her pioneer ancestors arrived from England. Then we drove to the Coromandel peninsula and spent another couple of nights with a friend in Whitianga. Here's an idea of the kind of scenery we saw. You can be sure we feasted our eyes and soaked up its beauty.

Kiwi vernacular sounds quite a bit like our South African accents, seeing as they too do the flattened 'e'. However, they have one idiomatic quirk that I'd like to mention, and that is, they cut off their similes. And so, for instance, instead of saying 'sweet as (whatever)', they simply say 'sweet as'. I rather like this leaving it open, because you can escape the cliche of thinking 'sugar' or 'pie' and let your imagination run rip.

Personally I can say that I found the countryside as beautiful as paradise.

And that's it for the moment, folks.

Living Off the Grid: Summing up

So what was it like, actually, living off the grid? In some ways, a bit of a pain. See, you had to be conscious of how much hot water you used, how much electricity. And this meant being aware of the weather. It brought an awareness of dependence on the elements.

And I'd say neither of the above is a bad thing.

On the other hand, living off the grid brought a sense of freedom. The atmosphere seemed purer, as if there was something gentle, more peaceful about it. (Did I mention non-exploitative?) Also quiet, inside and out, seeing as a gas fridge makes only a little noise.

We lived with the sound of the occasional passing car or truck, the occasional chain saw cutting down a tree; and the song of the birds, mainly the tui (yes, that's what their call sounds like) and the pesky pheasants -- non-indigenous and destructive to plants, especially veggie gardens. At night we heard the morepork, the small New Zealand owl named for its call.

This is probably my last Kiwi post, so I'll finish off with a kind of silly poem. I hope you'll enjoy it. You can check the photo in my previous post to get the location reference, and look below for a photo.

"You'll find the secateurs in the shed," she said,

the abundance and peripheral variety of blooms having given me a yen

to make a vase --

not really an arrangement

tho. Something more in the modern style.

I wandered around the cavernous space,

looking on tool shelves, and counters and hooks,

unseeing of secateurs  until...

aha! I spied a white-handled pair,

some rusty-looking snips

with pointy tips

right there

waiting on the counter.

The spring was somewhat stiff

but still

those scissors cut the soft-stemmed calla lilies

white and green

that I wanted for my vase.

My floristry was interrupted

by other tasks.

So I set the scissors aside in the kitchen

for later.

And later Kate said,

"Mum, those are for cutting goat toe-nails!"

(I should have noted the shape of the blades and maybe remembered their long-gone goats!)

Living Off the Grid #3: And now a few words about other appliances.

This post begins with... toast! Have you ever survived for months without it? I did, in the days when I lived in residence at the University of Cape Town. When I returned to Johannesburg in the vacs, it was such a treat to have toast again.

So, although there was no electric toaster in our New Zealand dwelling, we did manage. And here's what our 'appliance' looked like:

You place this perforated tin thingy over the gas flame, rest the piece of bread in the bottom ridge, turn it over when it's suitably toasted, and voila!

We had wonderful organic bread while we were away. We got it on a Friday at the weekly open-air market held by our grandsons' local Waldorf school. But the first week, my instructions weren't specific and I discovered there were several types of loaves on offer. Having bought a few, I thought of asking the grandsons which to buy. They replied, 'the one with the yellow label'. So I went back to the young guy who was selling so I could exchange them. He was amused because I'd bought all the kinds except the one with the yellow label!

The other appliances we were missing were washer and dryer. Usually the family takes the laundry to the local laundrette for wash and fold. But I decided to save a few bucks by going there to do it myself. Not such a hardship when the beach was only a five minute walk away. Here's a photo, taken in the evening, so imagine more sunshine! In the background you can glimpse Mount Maunganui which has a sacred significance for the local Maoris and is a popular tourist attraction too.

p.s. the bread we bought each week was called 'Maunganui gold'.

To tide you over...

What next about living off the grid? Oh, the suspense!

To tide you over till tomorrow, here's a vase I made, all picked from the property. Such a lovely thing to do and it took me right back to my childhood when this was part of a Saturday ritual.

I made this, actually, for the first Sunday in Advent. And yes, during our visit we used the stove for warmth at least twice.

Living Off the Grid #2: Salon Honda

So to start with I made two mistaken assumptions:

1) that I would be able to use a hair dryer while we were staying with the family

2) that my North American appliance would work in New Zealand.

Shock, horror when I discovered no and no. What to do? To translate roughly from a great South African saying, 'A farmer makes a plan'. Hair gets dry in the air, for sure, but what to do about the style, seeing as I couldn't do a 'blow out'? (i.e. what used to be known as a 'blow dry').

Okay. I headed to the dollar store and bought some self-stick rollers. I figured an investment of $8 was altogether justified.

After showing me the gondola where the packets were hanging, the cheerful and helpful owner took my money at the till and said, "We sell a surprising number of these!"

Go figure...

Now the air dry was a problem. The weather at the beginning of November was cool. So I decided to head for Salon Isuzu. Equipped with Eleanor Catton's Booker-prize winning 'The Luminaries' and my special glasses for reading in sunlight, I climbed in and sat in the warmth.

I even had a coffee, courtesy of my thoughtful husband. But it wasn't such a good idea, the one time I left the mug in the van!

Later in our visit the days grew warmer so I was able to graduate to the terrace outside the studio. And here I am, in all my rollered glory!

I'm wearing my sweater like a bib in order to protect against the sun.

Lastly, to give you some idea of the results, here's a pic taken when we went to visit a friend. The style is not perfect, but good enough. And 'good enough' is fine for me!

Living Off the Grid #1

Here is the foot of the stairs that I walked down every morning while in New Zealand. Our son-in-law, Ken Smith, is a sculptor. He built the studio, steps and cottage all by himself. I hope you'll get a sense of how pleasing the staircase is. The sculpture at the bottom is a bonus.

Yes, I was quite happy to run up and down these many times a day! An easy way to keep fit.

So what does living off the grid feel like? For me, there was a gentleness about it, perhaps a feeling of being less exploitative. Certainly I became even more aware then usual of the weather -- especially as we relied on the rain for the house and garden water supply.

The North and South islands that make up New Zealand attract clouds. (already mentioned, I know.) So the constant questions were: Will there be enough rain to keep the storage tanks filled, and will we get enough sunshine today to provide for our hot water 'needs'? The answer to both was... mostly. Okay, you don't have to shower absolutely every day, but it is best to have hot water for washing up.  So then we'd have to boil a kettle on the gas stove. And every day, remember to turn the pump on and then off so that the hot water circulated between the studio and the cottage.

Too many dry and sunny days made us more aware of how much water we were using and how much we ran the tap. Having lived with water shortages in South Africa, I used to be good with that. But over the years in North America I've slipped into the habit of letting taps run (for rinsing plates and so on) without much thought. Early on in our visit, my elder grandson was doing the drying of dishes while I washed. He politely leaned over and shut off the tap. That was my wake-up call, and I quickly put the plug in the other side of the double sink.

Fortunately, we didn't run out.

Here's our younger grandson keeping the flowers alive. This bed was overflowing with flowers by the time we left.

One totally scary aspect of living off the grid -- the electricity wasn't strong enough for me to use a hair dryer. Yikes! I'll show and tell you how I managed ze hair when I blog on Monday. Enjoy the weekend!

From Southern Hemisphere to Northern

We (my husband and I) have been back home for almost two weeks. Today for the first time, when I surfaced from sleep, I wasn't surprised to see snow outside my window instead of this:

I took the photo at our daughter's home on the North Island of New Zealand, where we stayed from the end of October (no Halloween!!!), all of November and most of December. Over the next few posts I'll be sharing some of my experiences in that breathtakingly beautiful part of the world.

Our daughter and her family live 'off the grid', on a windy road, almost at the crest of a hill. Every morning when I stepped out of our studio 'apartment', I looked down over the valley and across to the waters of the Bay of Plenty. It was quite something, living at bird level, and the skies too with their drifting clouds made for wonderful observation possibilities.

So I'll share some stories about what it's like to live off the grid. In the photo above you can see the solar panels which provide hot water. The electricity comes from another set on the roof of the main cottage.

Yesterday

Only after I'd posted yesterday did I realize how appropriate the subject of gifts was, seeing as the 6th January is the Three Kings Day. Epiphany.

When I went on facebook I discovered something very different. That was, that the 6th January has been deemed the most depressing day in the year!! Huh? Who said? And in any case, I thought that was supposed to be in February sometime.

I discovered that it was some kind of alcoholic drinks board that made the proclamation. Sad, really. And if you did happen to be in a bad space, would it be helpful to know this was a depressing day, or would that simply make things worse?

So that's it for today. Just a short post to put in my two cents.

Presents

'What did you get for Christmas?
This was an important question when I was a child, and a good opening conversational gambit.

Presents, I guess, come in various categories: the fun, the useful, the entertaining, and of course the 'what on earth am I going to do with this?' kind. Fortunately, I receive very few of those. If any.

This year my husband and I were on our own for Christmas and we didn't exchange gifts. However, we agreed to buy ourselves a new toaster. One morning last week, off he went to run some errands. And he returns triumphantly with said new toaster. Fine. You know how it is. Go into a store, remember that this is what we need, take a look at what's on offer and buy what seems most suitable.  Whereas me, I would have done some research, price-wise and design wise before making a choice. But I guess that's the gender difference, isn't it?

Still, it's not totally true when I say that we didn't get any gifts, because (also last week) a friend arrived with a shiny bag filled with three different treats: tiny chocolates, a box of special tea and some Weleda rose body products for me. How truly delightful!

Some people, it seems to me, are simply brilliant at gift buying and giving. But me, I largely lack the skill, with the exception of the occasional flash of inspiration or stroke of good shopping luck.
I suppose we've all felt that sense of gratification and gladness when a present hits the right note -- often one of surprise, certainly one of delight.

So what's the secret? I suspect the answer is quite complex. Once you've decided on a budget or, if it's a craft, a time investment, maybe it goes something like this: observe the person you wish to give a present to, think about them and get a glimpse into his or her soul. Then keep your feelers alert and search both outwardly and inwardly for what this person would like.

Words, words, words

Well hello there! Yes, I'm back, literally as well as digitally. It's almost a week since I returned from two and a half months (!!) of far-flung travels. More about those later, as I'm still picking up the threads of my life. Long-distance travel, especially when it's between hemispheres, always turns me upside down for a while. But you might find my experiences of living off the grid quite fun.

Reading emails and a few blogs while I was away got me to thinking about how our language is changing, and I'm wondering if it's time to simply accept that we're going to simplify. No use rolling the eyes, or getting even a little bit irritated when, for instance, the writer neglects to differentiate between the various uses of '2'.

I mean, to, two and too. So you might read, 'will you be there to?' Well, I knew what was meant, didn't I? And typing makes it easy to make mistakes. I do it to. Although a sentence such as, 'Are you going to town to?' will probably always look wrong to me.

The question is, does it matter?

I'm not sure.

The other one we see a lot of, is of course 'your' instead of 'you're' as an abbreviation of 'you are'. Having recently acquired a smart phone, I've discovered that getting a correctly typed message onto the screen is actually quite difficult.

Then there are those circular emails that show us the human brain can decipher a message even when the words have mixed up letters.

Hmmm. Okay. We'll see how things go. I just hope I can stop myself from going digital and always writing 2 and 4 instead of to, two and too, and for, four, as I've been tending to do when writing notes to myself.

Bad Brenda!