PREAMBLE: Our hearts and deepest sympathies go out to everyone in
Exactly three weeks ago today, I was sitting in this very spot, feeling more positive and cheerful than I had in a long time. Summer was rolling along, not great but steady. The bank account was slowly creeping up and the bills were slowing going down. The Man’s copious pepper crop was starting to ripen, the orchard across the road was selling box lots of seconds suitable for preserves, and I was keeping a close eye on our very own apple, peach and crab-apple trees, hoping to beat the birds to their offerings.
Ironically, we had recently noticed lots of grapes on our ancient vine, and they, too, were beginning to ripen. During the five years we have lived here, we have never had a single grape from this plant, as the little waxeye birdies always beat us. But, since the September 4th earthquake, these poor little dears have all but disappeared from our yard, even leaving a half eaten suet on the bird tray.
So far, I had bottled poached pears and rather unsuccessfully made a peach jam, that was more akin to peach flavoured applesauce, but something that could certainly be used as the base for something else.
Poached Pears
I was finding these old fashioned tasks therapeutic in light of the September earthquake that hit us on top of a very poor economy. Plus, on that day, we had a large corporate lunch booked for later in the afternoon, the Ellerslie Flower show in two weeks (which brings heaps of people to the province) and the Rugby World Cup Games in another 6 months. Right, we can and we will persevere – we might just squeak through!!! I had even written the tile of this post down on a slip of paper and stuck it in the back pocket of my jeans...
So, here I was sitting placidly, paying bills and sneaking at peak at the Buzz. I had showered and dried my hair, as I was planning to go to the Hilltop just before 2:00 to help with the corporate booking that was promising to be quite lucrative. At 12:52, I began to hear and feel the all too familiar rumbling of yet another aftershock. “Sheesh – when will they stop? Hey, wait, when will THIS one stop?” I dashed to the doorway just as a few things started to crash from shelves and Bessie began barking. I huddled in the doorway, near tears, trembling like a leaf, cuddling my dog. I tried to pull myself together. I wanted to go outside but the gate was open and I knew Bess would dash onto the road, so I reluctantly left her inside while I quickly closed the gate. By the time I got back to the house, I had decided I needed to go to the Hilltop and be with my people. Just as I was changing into old jeans and throwing a bra in my handbag, the cellphone rang (the power had gone out during the crashing). I knew it was The Man – I said ‘I’m coming up!’
As I went around one of the first bends, a campervan was stopped right in the middle of the on-coming lane, and some young folks were pulling rocks from a small slip out of the middle of the road. But, seeing as how they were in the middle of the road around another down hill bend, it might not have been the wisest thing. Happily, when I got around that bend, another uphill traveller had stopped and was ready to slow down other down-hill drivers.
When I got to the Hilltop, brooms were out, dust pans were filled with broken quiche dishes and other crockery. The bar floor was sticky from the crashed Sambuca, and the chill room looked a lot like it did back in September. BUT, everyone was okay, if not quite rattled. Fortunately, and strangely, we had no customers in at the time the latest earthquake struck.
The Grand Old Dame (The Hilltop) can rock and roll with the best of them. One of her recently repaired cracks by the front door opened up, and all the new plaster upstairs is back at square one, but by and large, there appears to be no structural damage.
We came home and, as it was a lovely day, decided to work in the garden where we could listen to the car radio (we still had no power). As we listened, we realized the full devastation of this event. Frequently, the car would bounce on its tires with the aftershocks. Unlike September 4th, when everyone was tucked away safe in their beds, this new quake hit on a busy weekday right at the end of the lunch hour. The epicentre was much closer to the central business district and was pretty much right by the little hillside
For the first few days, we did not open the café. We would go up for a bit each day, clean up and try to work in the beer garden (after all, we did have a wedding scheduled for the following weekend, didn’t we?). We watched the road traffic and there was none, apart from what appeared to be locals relocating away from
We finally re-opened on the Friday, more for our own mental health than anything else. We needed to DO something. By this time, I had identified a few charities that I felt I could help. Cash donations were out of the question at this time, but we had inventory and we can cook. I found out the ‘The Christchurch Baking Army’ was a Facebook network supporting ‘Comfort for
We are still baking and donating, but things are starting to come more under control. Day by day we get more familiar with the ‘new normal’. We are back at work with reduced hours and staff, running at about 30 – 50% of what we could expect. The wedding, at least, has been rescheduled for this weekend. Sadly, the Flower Show and most other major events have been cancelled.
So, on Tuesdays, like today, we are off. The peaches are ripe and are our best crop ever. The grapes yielded 8 cups of juice!!! Even, The Man is making an awesome Sweet Chilli Jelly with a peach base (aka the failed peach jam), and bottling it!
Grape Jelly, and LOTS of it!
Somehow, doing these old fashioned things with the many gifts from our garden is still reassuring. Flo and Myrtle are still delivering their daily finest of eggs, having set up a new nest in the shed. Even though my slightly confident attitude of February 22 got knocked right off its shelf, we can, and we will persevere!
