The pohutukawa and its friends

This is the pohutukawa tree in our backyard. As many of you might remember, pohutukawa honey is my favorite kind. They call it the 'whitest' honey in the world because of its very light color.  (note one of the sidebar stories) 

This tree is a sweet treat even before the bees work their magic on its nectar. Jeanne reminded me, while I was taking pictures for this post, that it produces so much nectar that if you are standing beneath the tree at this time of year, you might actually get dripped on. 

Take a closer look at this flower.

It's composed of multiple red stamens, each with its little yellow anther, which carries the pollen, on the end. At the base, you can see the cup-like structure that holds the pollen.  

Here is a closer look with the stamens around one of the 'cups' removed.  

I took this picture on Thanksgiving day and I noticed that every cup I saw was empty of nectar. The one in this picture had just a little bit along one side.  I tried to taste it and I think I tasted a hint of sweetness. I should have tried to taste the nectar as soon as they started to bloom.  

Birds love this tree. For about the last week, I've been sitting on our deck with my camera ready, watching hordes of them feasting on its goodness. 

Getting these pictures wasn't easy. The birds are small and naturally fast, and I think this nectar works on them much as energy drinks work on teenagers. The birds literally rocket around the yard.   

It's a good thing cameras are digital these days, because I'd go broke buying enough film to get the pictures I have. I've been deleting about 90% of the shots I took. I could show you dozens of pictures of parts of birds. Or of the tree where a bird had just been.  

The good ones I've put together for you.  I hope you enjoy seeing who has come to the banquet that New Zealand's 'Christmas Tree' provides.  

A female bell bird we think. The Maori name is korimako

This is a silver eye.

Plain old English sparrow

Now let's zoom in even closer to see another visitor.  

Getting these bee shots was really tricky. The red stamens are hard for the camera to focus on. They're not solid like flower petals are. They're hundreds of thin filaments that are in constant motion from the wind. 

Finally, my last shot is of a blackbird visiting. It's the first of it's species I've seen in our tree and it didn't stay long, never giving me a decent look. I took this photo through a kitchen window on a cloudy morning so the colors are not as intense.

I do like how the spots on the bird's back and rump seem to reflect the yellow anthers on the stamens.  And notice how the feathers on the back of its head almost look like wavy hair. 

And since you can't see its face in the picture above, I'll add another shot so you can. The one below shows you its profile as it stands on the lawn. Actually, the bird on the lawn came by a couple days later, and in bright sunshine.  

I said early in this post that the pohutukawa is called the 'Christmas Tree.' That's because it blooms during the Christmas season. This year, our tree is early. I took the picture of the tree that starts this post on Thanksgiving day!  And it is showing more blooms than it has ever done before. A record book year.          -djf

UPDATE:

While I was talking with Mary on the phone this morning, a parrot, or more exactly, an eastern rosella, landed in our pohutukawa.  What a thrill!  Here it is...

(Thanks to Dory for identifying the bird) 

Figs 'n Fish

With the success of my fig-wrapped pigs in a blanket, Jeanne felt, I think, inspired to try the leaves with fish. She wanted to go further with the lemon flavoring idea though than the figs could provide. She wanted to also wrap and flavor the fish with lemon grass.

Here then, are the photos she took of her preparations. 

Lemon grass grown in her garden.

You've got to peel off the tough outer layers.

That is deep sea cod on the top and tarakihi on the bottom of the butcher paper. 

Besides the fig leaves and the short pieces of lemon grass, Jeanne used garlic chives and broad beans to wrap with the fish.

The assembly line

In the steamer and ready to go. 

The finished product. 

She unwrapped all the steamed pieces and served them over rice and freshly-picked-from-her-garden asparagus. 

She also fried up some fish separately.

It was delicious. She had plenty of real lemon as you see, but I thought of that more as a garnish. The fish really picked up plenty of flavors from the plants they were wrapped in, and with. I chose not to change them by drizzling on additional lemon juice.

Nice job, Hon!  -djf 

Michigan's white-tailed deer hunting season is upon us.

I'm taking a very short break from my posts about our lives in New Zealand. We old guys like to relive the old days once in a while. 

I loved hunting as much for the quiet and solitude in the woods that it gave me (maybe more)  than I did for the harvesting of venison. I had wonderful years out there.  

Thanks to Lee, I have a DVD of some of the videos I taped while hunting. That is a treasure beyond words. It even shows the time a snowy owl sat down for a while on a branch just feet from my blind.  I was thrilled. 

I hadn't thought of this poem that I wrote back in 2010 for a long time. When I did again recently I realized that it was almost November 15th, the beginning of deer season, the perfect time to haul it out and reminisce.

Our lives are made up of many parts. This poem represents one part.

When I realized back then that I wanted to write something to commemorate the hunts Fred and I had shared, I knew I wanted it to be some sort of ballad. I started by reviewing The Cremation of Sam McGee, by Robert W. Service and went on to read a few other poems he had written.  I wanted to get the right 'tone' set in my head.  My poem didn't turn out quite like any of Service's, but it turned out well enough to satisfy me.  Here it is.  

The Ballad of "Fred the Great." 

Minnesota was the home of hunter "Fred the Great."
And many were the travels that he took beyond that state.
He went in search of Cervidae of every sort to shoot
And while hunting them he wore blaze orange, his favorite hunting suit.


But hunting had to wait sometimes, a job had to be done,
And though his arms grew weary and his eyes red from the sun,
Fred had to work, as most men do, to make his ends all meet,
He also worked to earn the POINTS that made his life so sweet.


Fred picked up cars and trucks and such, that fate had just struck down.
He'd load them up, two at a time, and haul them back to town.
All heads would turn when Fred pulled in, to see what he had brought.
He might just have that perfect truck or A.T.V. they sought.


His lovely wife had a gift for humorous oratory,
But her exploits are not told here, they're in another story.
She didn't care to share Fred's hunts, she preferred to set him loose.
All that she asked: that he be kind to her stuffed friend the MOOSE.


When leaves began to turn and fall, Fred's blood would start to boil.
He'd start again to plan his hunt, this time to Gourley soil.
He knew a Packer fan up there with hunting land so green,
It grew the finest white-tailed deer that Fred had ever seen.


Tall cedars fell to build Fred's blind, the "Butcher Shop" its name.
Fred sat among the tree tops there, on patient watch for game.
Lesser men would hesitate to shoot the gun Fred shot.
Their bodies would be black and blue but hunter Fred's was not.


A deer he shot dropped like a rock, his aim: extraordinary.
He shot just 3 or 4 each day, no more than he could carry.
He shared his game with all his friends and at least on one occasion,
He shared his blind and gun to boot with nephew, rookie Jason.


Fred continues to this day to roam those hunting lands.
He guards the acres that he hikes from drunken, poaching bands.
He stops now and again to rest, to drink a barley brew,
And talk to lesser hunters, as all the great ones do.


If you're up north of Packer Land, where mighty white-tails roam,
You may hear legends told of Fred by those who call it home.
They'll tell their stories quietly, with words of wit and awe,
About the hunting skill he showed, of wonders that they saw.


You may even catch a glimpse of Fred, he's fond of steak and beer,
As he heads to town for such a meal at Jill's, not far from here.
He'll have his lady on his arm, you'll spot her, she's first rate,
And friends and family near him, this hunter, "Fred the Great." 

Fred and McKenzie have moved on in life like Jeanne and I have. Michigan white-tails are no longer on his agenda. His thoughts are now turning to elk, and other western states' big game. Who knows what ballads still remain to be written?          -djf

This was my hunting blind.

It was 'the hunting 40 blind.'

This one we named the 'Notch.'

This was the 'Door.' I harvested my last buck out of this one. 

And last, but not least, the famous 'Butcher Shop.'  -djf

Wandering in Newmarket

-We interrupt the regularly scheduled post to bring you an important message... 

I think that I'll preface this post with a couple of quotes. 

The first quote (which I'll get to in a minute) was taken from a book, but I don't want you to think of it in the context of that story.  I prefer to think of this conversation as taking place between a couple of people from our world and in our own time. Plug in whatever names you choose instead of those of the characters mentioned. It won't change the the message one iota.  

I'm worried about the state of our country. I think that Truth has been, and will continue to be, twisted to suit the designs of some leaders. And the battle for the lead positions in the country has become increasingly bitter with time and of late, has become to me, unbelievable. 

As I write this, I can't help but dread what the future holds. I don't worry for myself.  I've already retired and am mostly out of the game. In the not too distant future, I'll retire from life altogether and be free of any and all earthly craziness. I worry instead for those of my family who have many years ahead of them. 

This quote, however, gives me a certain amount of comfort.

“I wish it need not have happened in my time," said Frodo.
"So do I," said Gandalf, "and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring

I love my family (and friends) and want them to persevere. My message to them would be against relying on their government to tell them what is right. They need to look instead into their own hearts and souls and remember that eternity is their ultimate destination. That they need to resist getting bogged down in whatever quicksand they'll encounter along their paths.   

My second quote today also gives me comfort. I think it speaks to me because I am getting older and have almost made it.  I also like it for it's upbeat feeling. Finally, I like it because it hints at the belief, that I share, of eternity. 

“It's only life. We all get through it.  -Dean Koontz, Odd Hours

One last thought...

Can you imagine what a shock it will be to many of our leaders when they finally arrive in eternity? I believe that each of us will understand perfect truth in that moment. What would it be like to have to acknowledge the degree to which you have knowingly misled millions, tens of millions, hundreds of millions, of people?  I'm glad to be a nobody.   

-And now, back to our regular scheduled post...

I've taken you to Newmarket several times. There's a lot to be said for it, and seen in it. Today, we are going to walk along Remuera Road that runs from the center of Newmarket up the hill to, guess where?  Remuera! That's right.  

This was a very pleasant walk, especially after I turned around near Remuera and worked my way back down the hill I had just climbed.   

Leaving the train station along the corridor over the tracks.

 On the sidewalk outside the station.

 A historic church

 How would you like to live in that massive house beneath Mt. Hobson?  I would love to see inside it.  

Another church   (I really didn't need to tell you that now, did I?) 

I won't state the obvious.  

Palms in the foreground and a volcanic island a few miles off shore. Wow. 

It's at times like these that I marvel that I'm really here and living among such sights. 

 One of the Newmarket Police Departments. 

 On my way back, I had to walk right past No. 1 Chicken, so...

 $7 buys a cup of delightful crunchy chicken bites. I brought at least half of them home. 

I walked a little bit out of my way to look again at the wood-paved parking lot.  I really like this place. I hope they never tear it up.    -djf

I remember pigs in a blanket, aka stuffed cabbage, aka cabbage rolls.

I spend at least a part of many days sitting on our deck. It's a little quieter place these days since Covid has reduced the number of flights arriving in Auckland to practically zero. But there are still birds to watch, and the occasional cat goes by as well. They generally seem to be watching the birds even more avidly than I am.  

Mostly though, I spend my time watching the trees sway in the wind.  It's a peaceful way to spend half an hour and if I have a cup of tea, or other sippable close by, it's all the more enjoyable. When the moon starts climbing the sky during my deck watch, I feel like I hit the daily double.  

I was watching the leaves sway recently, specifically my fig leaves, when I was struck by a thought.  Gee, I wonder if fig leaves are edible?  It was the work of a few moments on the computer and I found that they are. 

They are used mainly for wrapping around various foods; fish is a popular choice and I read that they impart a lemony flavor.  

I've got to give it a try. 

I've snipped off the a portion of the leaf that would be tough. This also allows the sap to flow out in my rinse water. 

These leaves have been boiled for about 15 minutes and are very pliable. That is fig leaf tea in the glass. It's much tastier than oak leaf tea but that's not saying much. It's not something I plan to add to my list of teas.  

To each, according to its size goes a mixture of mince, onions, cooked rice and seasonings.  

Nicely wrapped 

Set firmly into the pot. Diced Tomatoes in juice will be added over all of it. 

Dinnertime, above and below. 

They worked out. The leaves themselves have become very tender, but their texture is a bit coarse, especially the leaf midrib. They have imparted a lemon-like, though not sour, taste to the meat/rice mixture. They are definitely edible, but not as good as cabbage leaves would be. 

I ate one and a half fairly large leaves and had no digestive problems at all, despite what I said about them being coarse.

I don't intend to add them to our diets, but I'm very pleased to have tried them. I now consider them a known entity that could definitely be a part of a 'hard-times' menu.  Yet another wild food added to my list.         -djf

A quick chuckle:

Fig Newton: The force required to accelerate a fig 39.37 inches/sec/sec.

Joe Hart