Whitianga - Coromandel Peninsula

There are two places in New Zealand I love the most. One is home, Katikati. The other is where I was nearly born and raised – Whitianga.
Instead, in my youth, we endured a two day epic journey from Wellington, slipping and sliding inside a tiny car with their over tightly packed leather seats complete with the car windows drawn up. Father was always smoking. Repeatedly, we climbed in low gear, up and over the mountainous ridges civilised only by gravel roads. Every major other, and Christmas holiday, the trek up country began. A night’s stop in Hamilton at my dour, Presbyterian war veteran Grandparents' home did not sweeten the venture even if the strawberries may have helped (stolen by me from their garden and caught in the act on camera.) God Bless long legs!

Whitianga. Sea air, Phoenix Palm Boulevard, diesel sea trawler fuel, putt putt ferry between the wharf and Cook’s Beach ferry Landing, sand, moonlight on the water, dolphins in the harbour, the girls, in the pool, my Mum and Dad relaxing with us ... Such precious memories.

2010 Labour Weekend. We went with Roger’s friends and their better ‘halves’ annual weekend away trip. Magic views from our apartment, glorious weather, bought a fresh fish off the wharf, were given a bag of fresh mussels. What a fantastic locale to do; ‘The Lost Springs’ thermal attraction, Driving Creek Railway in Coromandel, Cook’s Beach and many other places. We ate too much and boys do tell terrible jokes!

Suffice to say we enjoyed the place so much we booked the same room, same weekend again for 2011. I wish my Mum and Dad could see it now. The roads are so much better but I fear the fishing is much worse.

Peacock’s Paradise

Another garden story but it is spring!
On the steps a girl and her grandfather feed the birds at the Katikati Bird Gardens. The girl is mine and over twenty years later, she still distrusts the white ducks.

The Bird Gardens are only a minute’s drive from home and I thought we would take Bob out for a Devonshire Tea. I heard the owner telling the Rotary club group that they have been open for 36 years now. For our family, that means memories of Nan pushing Holly in the pushchair, Gran pulling the girls in the garden trolley and two girls riding their bikes with Mum in the school holidays. The most memorable recalling the little fiend who had pushed Holly into the pond. Dad then hauling her out and wrapping her sodden, sobbing, self in a car rug.

Today at least two pious peacocks were shimmering in their displays to the rather indifferent pea hens. The telephone (imitator) bird was quieter than usual but the more vocal birds were full of spring’s delights.

However, like on our farm it appears wee ducklings have suffered at the perils of hawks, stouts and possibly stray cats.

An elegant country garden

A true gardener is a passionate collector of plants and knows their habits; when they are at their best and the colour combinations that enhance each element.

This morning, Holly and I were privileged to wander around our neighbour’s exquisite collection of trees, shrubs and flowers that encircle her country home. The chosen plants have been considered before planting and the garden plan was commissioned from one of New Zealand’s most respected gardeners. Trish Waugh, has won Gold at the prestigious Chelsea garden award.

What I love about Jean’s garden is its colour and form, all year round, but is best seen in the spring light. Jean praised the ‘ajuga’ for looking stately as the bluebells had faded in their glory.

She lovingly held the long leafed delicate maple and we all marvelled at the rhododendron blooms.

 Bevan, her husband, was mowing their carpet like lawn. This is a true garden with heart and soul.

Wild Goose love story

After the world’s largest storm we had last week, a white bedraggled goose appeared on the farm. One of the large white ‘Enid Blyton’ storybook type. It has shredded ribbon wings and looks untidy. It has taken on the role of looking after a lone mother duck and four ducklings. Honky will flap what were wings and usher the duck away from the drive and swim in the stream with it and honk at pukekos that get too close. It is quite the minder.

While I was watching the goose; I heard bumblebees. Thousands of fluffy bees are crawling over all the blossoms in the garden. After so much wild weather, we have appreciated a few delightful warm days and the birds and bees have too.