Little House on the Prairie

At Chartwell we’re rather far from the prairie. Or any other flat rolling country grassland, for that matter. As implied by the name Reikorangi Valley, hills, ravines and valleys are more our surroundings. But, if you can picture an isolated farmhouse in the middle of nowhere with smoke rising lazily from the chimney, then you will understand the picture I’m trying to paint.

(Above): This is Sprott Farmhouse, Alabama from many a yesteryear, when such forested areas were occupied by cotton fields – without smoke rising from the chimney stack. It is really more like the picture I’m trying to paint. But I digress. English literature lecturer would rap one over the knuckle for wandering off the subject…

In New Zealand, winter officially occupies the months of June, July, and August, although the country is not known as Aotearoa (‘the land of the long white cloud’) for its cuteness – the weather is very changeable, whatever the season…

With this in mind, you will understand that our leak-raking and gathering is petering off, as the numbers of remaining autumn leaves starts to dwindle. Winter is definitely on its way to us, when you feel the temperature of the long wet grass through thick rubber gumboots.

(Above): The piles of leaves are becoming progressively smaller as the trees convert to nudism for the Winter.

 

(Above): The trees through the pergola in The Snake are of the last to start undressing. The trellis seen at the far end marks the eastern boundary of the North Wing extension.

(Above): This weekend Clayton conducted a dress rehearsal of the kitchen fire to check the fire-worthiness of the different classes of firewood in the wood-shed and to evaluate the draught and condition  of the chimney flue (in case it needs sweeping). All went well, with the dogs promptly settling in to enjoy the radiant heat for the night.

So many of us associate the acrid city smell of wood and garbage smoke with the poor urban and rural settlements where any and all combustibles are set alight for cooking and heating. What we don’t remember are some of the aromas I experienced on Sunday evening: the rich aromas (as opposed to smells of burning rubbish) of pine, macrocarpa, eucalyptus and wattle – each with its own burning pattern and fire temperature range – and own distinctive aroma.

Inside the kitchen/ dining-room there was a cosy ambience with the orange of the flames flickering about. I guess that this will be most appreciated on the cold winter’s days still to come. Then I took a slow walk outside to enjoy the rich wood aromas, as the smoke gently wafted from the chimney and out into the pines, before dark set in.

It was simply quite invigorating. Stand still and close you eyes for a while and imagine…  its much like being near a House on the Prairie. 

A few steps towards the orchard part of the garden, and a brief gusty breeze rustled through the apple trees, like the hand of an invisible giant shaking the tree-tops. Platoons of dozens of variegated leaves came wafting down to the green carpet underfoot. Hmmm. The consolation is that leaf raking will soon be a chore of the past until next autumn.

But even a task as mundane as leak raking can be quite therapeutic, if you allow it.