Cats and ducks

 

One day last week a group of us watched the aerial warfare as two young male wild ducks fought it out for the position of Top Duck in the life of a lovely lady duck for the coming season.  Mother Duck wasn't at all interested in watching the battle, just carried on poking around in the long grass for fresh nibbles.  

Around the same time there was consternation in the village when a freshly hatched wild duckling was found abandoned.  It's at times like that Facebook comes into its own.  A quick post on the township page and an experienced wild duckling rear-er was found and the baby is thriving.

The Facebook post idea worked for me at the weekend when I became concerned about a unidentified cat that was obviously hungry and distressed and was crying loudly near my home.  Residents in the village are permitted to have one cat (no dogs allowed) and everyone knows the cats by name, where they live and so on.  My cat is not friendly towards other cats but most of them get along well together.  My Alleycat has human friends she likes to approach when they are nearby, others she runs and hides from.  I'd seen the visitor at the weekend from time to time at a distance and thought it must live nearby.  Anyway, because I was concerned about it, I put a post on Facebook and soon discovered it does indeed live nearby, the family had been away at a funeral, the cat was not happy about that although it was being fed.

I can sympathise (se? ze?) with that.  During the week I've been feeding Brodie, a neighbour's cat.  He's been well fed and I linger to talk with him but each day he's looked more and more miserable.  And the day he followed me back home Alleycat hissed at him.

Back to the ducks. I love seeing and watching them but have never been able to get close enough to get a photo.  They are wild and flighty.  Then on Sunday night I had the closest encounter I've ever had with a wild duck.  It was just after dark and as I was lowering the kitchen blind I saw a large, dark shape on my neighbour's lawn, just outside my window.  I thought, "That looks like a duck!"   I peered with my glasses on and my glasses off but wasn't sure.  I quietly went outside and approached the shape just as my neighbour was stepping out his door and doing the same thing.  He quietly said, "What is it?  It looks like a duck!"  I slowly crept closer and closer and it turned its head to look at me.  Yes, it was a huge male  Muscovy duck.  Alleycat had followed me outside and was even more interested in our visitor than Jack and I were,  then Brodie came along from another direction and the duck obviously was tired of all the attention and with a loud flapping of wings, took off.

Thanks to Facebook I can show you what the duck looked like.  He was a pet who had escaped.  I hope he found his way back home.

 Photo thanks to Tyson Cook, Facebook.

Chicken drama queen

I've spent a lot of time quietly at home lately.  The cold I came down with after Georgia's 21st party proved hard to shake and developed into a chest infection.  Antibiotics beat the cold and almost beat me at the same time, I had an allergic reaction.  When that was overcome I had 3 or 4 days of good health before another cold caught up with me.  Arrgghhh!

Usually I listen to the radio during the day but have lost interest in that.  I'm just generally rather lethargic and tired most of the time.  I find if anything annoys me I am quite grumpy.  And I find it really annoying that I can do nothing about the thing that annoys me most right now.

We have an open area at the back of the retirement village where residents can have a large vegetable garden if they wish and one of the residents keeps a few hens.  I love hearing them clucking away to each other.  It's such a peaceful sound.

One of the chooks has turned into a drama queen.  She lays her daily egg around the same time each day and you wouldn't believe the fuss she makes.  She squawks over and over and over again.  Sometimes it seems like it will never stop.  I mutter all sorts of obscenities to her and end up feeling quite foolish for getting into such a state about a cackling chicken.

Other residents complain about a barking dog belonging to a neighbour but I live closer than most to that dog and that doesn't worry me at all.  Except for feeling sorry for the poor thing.  He barks all day but is quiet as soon as the family's children get home from school.  He's bored.

But for some reason I can't cope with a noisy chicken!

 

21st

It's been a week already since we celebrated my grand-daughter, Georgia's 21st birthday.  For a couple of days afterwards I thought I was just tired from the late, late night and all that dancing.  But no, I had caught a cold.  I don't seem able to shake them off as quickly as I used to.  

I was not very impressed with my timing but it turns out listening to broadcasts of Olympic events on the radio while snuggled up in bed, can be more enjoyable than I expected.  And if I drifted off back to sleep before the event was finished?  I just took that as a sign that I needed the sleep.

Wish I had some photos of the party to share but I was in the few that were taken and they haven't been shared as yet.  The young these days seem to like their photos to be selfies.  Maybe so they can edit/enhance the result?  To be fair, I didn't notice many selfies being taken either.  Everyone looked to be too busy dancing.  

I took a number of videos as requested by my younger daughter who was unable to travel because of recent knee surgery.  This is the only photo. 

But I did get a photo of the cake.

 

Not for the first time, I've been impressed by this group of young people.  Georgia and her boyfriend have a wonderful set of friends.  They are always so friendly and respectful.  I couldn't just sit quietly and watch the partying without one of them popping themselves down beside me to ask if I was OK, did I need anything and then staying for a chat.  I was so touched by one young man who told me he had cried during my speech, he missed his grandmother so much and he then spent about 20 minutes telling me all about her.  How special is that?

The party was at the lodge in the forest that I managed for a number of years.  It was so good being back there, checking out the improvements. I loved waking in the night (when the music finally stopped) hearing the call of moreporks (owls) in the bush surrounding the lodge and then the dawn chorus.  I do miss that place.

The next morning, two early-birds were out for a stroll.

A bright spot

 Some child may have been upset to see their balloon sitting high in the tree but it made my day.

 

My excuse

I feel I have more than writer's block.  It feels more like a strangulation.  I even Googled to see if there is such a thing as writer's strangulation.  No, there doesn't appear to be any such thing and just reading the descriptions of strangulation had me giving up on that idea very quickly.

However, I do fit the number one reason listed for writer's block - lack of inspiration.  I've only ever blogged about my day to day life which has never been very exciting although I've always been contented with it.  Excitement is over rated in my book.  I avoid having my heart race these days.  Trouble is, I now feel there are limits on what's acceptable for me to post about as my tales of daily life may infringe on the privacy of others in my retirement village.  And so far, I've failed to find any other inspiration.

My family, perhaps?  They are all happy and busy.  My oldest son and his wife are restoring the old kauri villa where I lived before moving to the village.  Danny is back coaching the local rugby union team and my daughter and I support him and the team by attending most of their games.  

Said daughter will be back at work full time again soon after suffering a bad break to her leg.  I was busy for a while playing chauffeur to and from hospital appointments.  New Zealand has very good accident compensation (ACC) but it took a while to kick in.  The scheme covers everyone in NZ who is injured in an accident by paying for a wide range of treatment and medical costs from GP visits to specialist fees, x-rays, hospital emergency services.  Once all the services she needed were organised, she was provided with a car and driver to take her to appointments and to and from work.  A physiotherapist still visits her at home and her limp is improving each time I see her.

My second son, Bernie has also been in the wars.  He has a herniated disc in his back ad has been in a lot of pain.  I find it hard to cope emotionally when one of my kids is suffering in any way and are a long way from home.  I do not do well with helplessness.

In this case I was very concerned as Bernie has an extremely high tolerance to pain and I worried that if he said he was in pain, the injury must have been quite serious.  He's slowly improving but has been finding sitting around for so long to be difficult to deal with.

Did I just say all my family are happy and well.  Thankfully, the happy part is true and they don't have health problems as such.  Most of their difficulties are structural.  My youngest daughter is currently enjoying a week or so of sunshine in Queensland and will return in time for knee surgery in a few days.  It's the same operation Bernie had a few years ago.

Add to that mix of woes, I recently had a rotator cuff tear which slowed me down a lot but thankfully I discovered I could still do line dancing with my arm hanging by my side.  A good osteopath is a blessing!  As is a line dancing group of a similar age who understand each other's limitations.

And here's my youngest blessing, little Emilia all dressed up for a feast day in Brasil.  I tell myself it's not long till Christmas when I will see her again.

Here's May

I love this time of year.

Having said that I just looked out the window and see a dark cloud approaching - and I have sheets drying on the line.  Could happen at any time of the year.

Already 10 days into May.  Days are a little cooler, nights are a little cold, this morning was the coldest morning of the year so far, with threats of power outages,  but I did my bit towards conserving power by staying snuggled up in bed until the sunshine did its job of adding warmth to the day.  It seems there will be more power cuts this winter.

Here's what has been making me smile lately.  A little owl I crocheted for my great-grandaughter waiting for her to visit.  I smile every time I look at it, I think I'll make another one for myself.

 And little granddaughter, Emilia's artwork.  I'm so happy all her people look happy and loved.

Seasonal change

Autumn is definitely here.  All too often we seem to go from summer straight to winter but I like this lingering of summer during the day with just a hint of winter in the mornings and at night.

Alleycat seems to like the weather, too.  She's spending more time than usual snuggled up sleeping.  It may not be the weather, it could simply be that she is now more settled living here.  She has finally got the other village cats to understand that she is not their friend and that they are not welcome near her or her home.  She has a small area around our unit where she obviously feels comfortable, where she knows the residents.  She still scarpers the minute she sees or hears a male but she has some nice (human) lady friends. 

In her own way it's taken her a while to find her place in a new environment.  Maybe she's been people watching the same as I've been doing. 

 

I've always been a people watcher, I have an innate human curiosity to understand how people tick, I've wasted many a long hour idly observing people.  And living in a retirement village is the ideal place for someone like me who likes to watch others' behaviours, mannerisms and interactions. 

 

Here we have a community of people who are strangers when they arrive and may have little in common and who now live at reasonably close quarters.  In this village the residents coordinate voluntary social activities to encourage neighbourly bonds, such as group outings, hobby groups and interest groups.  Fertile grounds for personalities to come out to play. 

I have relatively strong instincts when it comes to people and have learnt to trust them, especially when I meet someone for the first time.  So it's been interesting, after living here for about 9 months to reflect on how well my instincts served me when I first moved in.

I'm happy to say the ones who instantly attracted me are now my group of friends.  We are all getting to know each other better, little by little learning each other's life stories, becoming familiar with each other's families.  It's been an enjoyable process, unlike anything else I've experienced.

 

And I haven't seen anything that has changed my opinion about the other residents.  The ones I was instantly wary of, I'm still wary of.  The ones that interested me then, I still find interesting, they are on the 'long term' observation list. 

One of the things that has kept me out of blogland recently is this nearly finished shawl to keep me warm in winter.  The idea was to use up all the bits of wool from finished projects over the years.   I'd better get on with it, winter could arrive any old time now.  

 

The engagement

The room chosen for the happy occasion was really lovely in the early evening light but proved difficult for me to get any decent photos.  Mind you, that's my fault.  I'm falling out of love with my camera.  Between my not so sharp eyesight and dodgy memory I have trouble with settings, etc.  I think I'll stick to the phone. 

Amyway, this is the room.

 

Photo courtesy of Symonds Court

The happy occasion was the engagement of my oldest grandson, My Michael and his lovely, Rose.  They are such a lovely couple.  Love them to bits.

Here they are pouring drinks for their guests.

I'd like to add , "In other news" but there is none.

Tennis

Home again, home again jiggety jig.

Only for one night, then away for the weekend to celebrate my grandson's engagement.  Only an occasion as important as that would get me on the road again so soon.

Aiden is keen on tennis, a sport I played a lot when his age.  I took him to a coaching session and since then have been reflecting on how different things were back in the day.  No-one taught us how to play any sport but I was lucky to live next door to tennis courts where all the youngsters in the street played.  Best playground ever!  We watched the older kids who were good players and tried to do what they did.  Peter Wilson was my tennis idol; my friend, Marie wanted to emulate her brother, John.  Oh, I can still remember the two of us sitting on the sideline, breathless with anticipation, when Peter played John.

Marie and I, and two boys from our class were the school tennis team and played in a schools competition around Brisbane.  Every Saturday we'd either be at the school courts or finding our way around Brisbane by train or bus to play.  I don't think the parents of any of us ever saw us play except for us just playing for fun on the courts next door. Mum might have glanced out the kitchen window occasionally but usually when she did it was to see if I was playing and tell me to come and do some chore or other when that game finished.

The older kids were patient with the younger ones and we knew we were improving when an older child invited you to play with them.  Names long forgotten have been popping into my head since I started thinking back on it all.  There was never any formal draws of who we played with or against but somehow we sorted it out.  We didn't appreciate it then but I think Forrest Street may have been a very special place to be a child.

As always when in Taranaki, I tried several times to get a great photo of the mountain.  This one was a quick click before I went inside to get my camera.

I'm falling out of love with my camera.  I struggle with finding the correct setting, sometimes my memory is the problem, at other times it's my eyesight.  I think I'll just stick with the phone.  

This shot is taken with my camera.  I like the phone shot better.

 

A short summer

Gosh, it's been an age since I last posted.   

Autumn will be here in a couple of weeks, this has surely been the shortest summer that I can remember.

I've never before fallen victim to a summer illness and I hope to never do so again.  Since the end of December I've had nearly 2 weeks of being well, the rest of it is a bit of a blur.  My doctor's diagnosis?  A really nasty virus that we don't have a name for right now.  When I haven't been coughing and aching, I've been sleeping.  Apparently, I am "blessed" that I've been able to sleep so much.  All I can say is anyone who doesn't have the natural sleeping abilities I've been given must be awfully tired.

But to look on the bright side I live in a caring community and have had a steady stream of visitors just popping their head around the door to see if I need anything.  And I'm now responding nicely to the third round of antibiotics which although can have some not so nice side effects, have been quite magical as far as I'm concerned.  I even have my voice back and although it is not totally reliable, most of the time it works.

In the midst of my misery (yeah, I know, just slightly over-dramatic!) a dear friend was killed in a tragic car accident, a couple of days before my birthday.  I will miss him.

I'm thankful that I've improved in time to have a trip to Taranaki to spend some time with my grandson while his parents are away.  His father will be in Canada to spend time with his father who is celebrating his 80th birthday and his mother will be on a quick trip to Melbourne.

Roll on autumn, my favourite time of year, when the weather if the most settled, long sunny days and cooler nights.  I'm ready.

A week without her

I was too emotional a week ago to write about my sadness when she left. But now I can look back at the time little Emilia was here with gratitude and joy.  

I've always been a bit dotty about my grand-children and it seems I get more so as I age.  Along with the rest of the family, I'd long ago given up hope of my younger son settling down and having children.  Then, just before he turned 50 he stumbled into fatherhood and he's the first to admit it's the best thing that ever happened to him.  He's been the primary caregiver and is an amazing father.  Emilia is now three and a half and is a bright, happy, confident and outgoing child who is fluent in both her native Portuguese and English and is growing confident in Italian as her mother has Italian heritage.  It amazes me how she can switch so easily from one language to another.  I've had no previous experience with bi-lingual children and their ability to absorb learning.  It's impressive.

Like her father, she is a water baby.  She just loves the beach.

with her two aunts

Emilia with my younger daughter meeting Franklin.  Franklin originally belonged to Georgia and when she went to boarding school, she gave him to my grandson, Aiden.  He's 15 or 16 years old.  The turtle that is, Aiden will be 13 in a few days.

Dad and daughter taking it easy after a hard day climbing mountains.

The duck

A 14th anniversary may not sound very important but this one is to me, mainly because I actually remembered it.  But the thing is I remember it today but by the time it actually arrives on 23rd I will no doubt have forgotten it again.

It's my blogging anniversary I'm talking about.  It's hard to believe it's been that long and that in that time I've posted 1429 posts.  That's a pretty good average considering how infrequently I think of something to post these days.

Regardless of how seldom I post I will continue to do so as my blog is such a good diary of those years, it holds so many happy memories for me, especially of those early years when I spent hours playing with my grand-daughter, Georgia, who will be 21 this year.  We spent so many happy hours together in my kitchen, it's no surprise she still works with food and made me a very yummy chocolate log for Christmas.  Others might think what a funny gift but for both of us it held so much significance.  And then we both had the pleasure of sharing it with the rest of the family.

Below is my first post, a story about little Georgia.

Georgia stood on one leg, hips akimbo, peering at the structure before her. She tapped the toes of one foot , as her head descended almost to her chest and she leaned forward, a frown growing on her face. Her dark eyes grew even darker and her lips, pressed tightly together now, were hardly visible.

Finally she muttered, “Something is wrong here! Where has that duck gone? It was there yesterday. I put it to bed. It needs lots of sleep before our trip.”

Suddenly Georgia collapsed into a heap, tears streaming down her cheeks. “He’s gone to Brazil without me!” she wailed.

 
Georgia’s granny left her job digging for worms in the garden. “What’s up, Georgie Pie? I have the worms for your duck now. Look, they are lovely fat juicy ones! Come, come now. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Doofus has gone to Brazil without me!” Georgia repeated.

“No, no, I’m sure he hasn’t. He’s a lovely duck, he wouldn’t do that. Who would feed him worms?”

“I don’t know! But he’s gone!” sniffled Georgia.

“I’m sure he hasn’t”, replied Granny. “Let’s look carefully. Is he under the bed? No! Maybe he is in the cupboard. No! Is he sitting in a chair? No! Come on, Georgia, help me look for him. That’s a good girl!”

Finally, when nearly every object inside the big box had been moved aside, looked under and returned to it’s correct spot, Georgia yelped with delight as she spotted her golden duck nestled cosily under Love Heart Bear. With her 5 year old fingers she carefully picked up the little duck and placed him in the palm of her other hand. She stroked it gently, gave it a fairy kiss, curled her fingers around it tightly, lifted her arm and flung the duck into the air. The duck landed heavily on the other side of the garden. “Nope”, announced Georgia, “He can’t fly yet. When he can we will go to Brazil!”

 

A few of my followers go back a long way and may remember Georgia.  Here she is now with her boyfriend.  She still has that lovely shy (and just a little bit cheeky) smile.

 

 

Christmas

One of my brothers, after every family gathering, would ask the question, "Who had the most fun?"  Nine times out of 10 the answer would be one of the youngest children.

When I asked myself this question after our family Christmas get together, Emilia was definitely the answer.  She had arrived in the country on Christmas Day and we'd allowed a few days for her and her parents to get over their jet lag before setting the date for "our" Christmas.  As my family grows with grandchildren now having partners, that allowed them to spend time with their "others halves" families, too.  I didn't care how long it took to find a time when we could all be together, the wait was worth it.

 

 My 4 generations.  So proud.

It was just wonderful having all my family together.  They all get along so well together, they make my heart sing. 

 

My 4 children relaxing in a quiet corner after lunch

But first it was all hands on deck to prepare the meal to which everyone had contributed.  As the saying goes, many hands make light work and somehow with not a lot of planning, it all comes together.  Someone said, "Freeze" and the kitchen staff at the time, me with my daughter-in-law and daughter complied.  Even my son who was handing something in through the servery window, looks to be complying although he hadn't heard the order.

 

Lexis, my 8 year old great-grand-daughter with 3 year grand-daughter, Emilia.  Lexis had presented Emilia with a pretty party dress that no longer fits her.

 

Then, after gifts had been given and received, the sitting room tidied, and everyone had moved outside to the patio to enjoy a very pleasant summer's day, my daughter walked back inside to this sight. She must have been exhausted after all the excitement.

 

I know how she felt.  Two days later I came down with a heavy cold which I am still fighting.  No New Year celebrations for me.  I am missing out on Emilia time so am taking very good care of myself in order to get back into grand-mothering fitness.