Whatever the weather
This is the fifth in an occasional series of musings from reporter Carly Thomas on her chaotic journey since buying a grand old country house and garden in rural Manawatu.
The weather, whatever is wrong with the weather, and a skywards wondering if the rain will ever stop – that pretty much sums up life in Kiwitea at the moment. It’s all we talk about around here. It’s a constant conversation tailender and the word on the street is it’s the worst – insert a swear word of your choosing – winter ever.
My paddocks could house alligators, wart hogs and any other mud-loving creature. Grass is a far and distant memory and my three horses have been balloted out like wartime children to kind neighbours. Monkey pony has been snuck into the school paddock and instructed to hide behind a tree.
One pair of red bands didn’t cut it this year. Extra artillery was brought in and the swarm of boots congregate like a drunken army at the front door. I have given up trying to restore order – all hell has broken loose at Nancy’s house.
The kids think it’s wonderful. The kids find it hilarious and giggle snortingly as I sink knee-deep in mud just to hang the washing out. They can hardly contain themselves when Sam says it’s like a volcano eruption of chocolate pudding.
I’m not usually one to complain. I have always harped on about loving winter, but this one is just silly. This winter has gone too far.
Gardening has become extreme. I look out the window, see a hopeful slither of blue sky and sprint out the door. I become a frantic starter of many tasks, but finisher of none, because the inevitable rain shows up like a gatecrashing guest that no-one likes.
The other day, I decided to go all Bear Grylls and stay out no matter what was thrown at me. I tackled the wisteria, waded through the weeding and fumbled around in the fuschia while the kids pulled faces at me from inside.
And the wisteria retaliated. It whipped me in the face and I chopped it like a mad woman to barely an inch of its life. I yelled and I screamed and I might of shed some angry tears. I definitely swore.
And then I had a cup of tea, made the kids go outside to run around the house while I talked to the cat about the weather. He agreed, in all of his nine lives this is the worst winter in the history of all time.