Incoming plane, incoming rain

It’s been a very wet winter here in Aotearoa/New Zealand, and we’ve seen some spectacular skies over Wellington’s south coast. I think the heavy blueness of this one matches the mood of the season.

A graphically named “atmospheric river” recently dumped a lot of water on us. It caused major floods, more and worse landslides and general misery and harm. The size of the deluge was amplified by an ongoing marine heatwave event around Aotearoa/New Zealand which has broken records this year, and, I understand, added moisture to the atmosphere. More rain. This rising temperature of our ocean isn’t just bad for life in the ocean, it’s also bad for us landlubbers.

I’m sorry wee plane - people love to travel, but you’re a symbol of the way we humans are ruining our future and trashing the environment.

(What the Carbon Almanac says - “If the world’s plane flights were a country they would be in the top 10 of climate-change polluting nations.” https://thecarbonalmanac.org/carbon-is-taking-off-when-can-it-land/ )

I can see you little tauhou (aka silvereye or wax-eye)

Seen through glass (double glazing to be accurate) - not darkly, but somewhat blurry. A commotion of little birds swept down into a karo tree near my window. Their little white eye rings meant that even I could identify them. I know them as wax-eyes, the Maori name is tauhou, and silvereye is the most used name for them. Their scientific name is Zosterops lateralis.

I had to photograph them through the window. This meant fuzzy pictures. Still, I haven’t been so close with a camera before, and this little portrait pleases me. Alas, they flitted away very quickly when they sensed me at the window.

They’re birds of the south-west Pacific, apparently ”self-introduced” to New Zealand - not a native bird, but treated as one. So how did such small birds (a bit smaller than sparrows) manage to get here across the ocean? They migrate over long distances in Australia and it’s thought that they may have been swept along in our direction by stormy winds in the 1800’s. They were first described here in 1832.

So their Maori name refers to this - I have read that tauhou means “stranger” or “new arrival.”

Like us, they’re omnivores. They’ll eat insects, berries, nectar, and - one thing that can make them unpopular with humans - fruit. So they’re little helpers for gardeners when it comes to their taste for aphids, but apparently for some growers they’re little pests who feast on their fruit. I haven’t noticed this on our fruit trees (blackbirds are another thing!) - for me it’s all pleasure when I see little gangs of wax-eyes come visiting.

Small Wonders - Sprouting Broad Beans

I had some broad beans that were several years past their “plant-by” date. They were old seeds - were they alive, could they sprout? Just add water?

I put them between moist paper towels and waited.

Sprouting broad bean (Vicia faba, also known as faba or fava bean) on moist paper towel.

Alive! There is something rather miraculous about the sprouting of seeds - especially in this case, rather dried up beans.

Planted gently…

Still alive! The wonder of the tiny leaves emerging through the soil. What a thrill!

Emerging broad bean seedling, breaking through the dark soil.

Not quite the creature from the black swamp, but there is something primeval about the emerging leaflets - the surge of life, the source of the life we all depend on. There’s a world of wonder in nature’s most basic things.

And I’m struck by how much we tend to overlook the world of plants all around us - to the point where plants are treated as some kind of background green-ness. Yet we are utterly dependent on plants - we can’t afford to take their wellbeing for granted.

Perfuming the bush - Toropapa - a modest shrub with a beautiful fragrance

In the bush, it‘s as if toropapa is hiding in plain sight - the appearance of its foliage blends in with the plants around it. But follow your nose when it’s flowering, and you’ll find this small shrub. There are five species, with variation in the shape of the glossy green leaves. The one pictured was labelled Alseuosmia quercifolia (the leaves didn’t look much like oak leaves to me, but the shape of oak leaves does vary too, depending on the species.)

Alseuosmia apparently means “perfume of the grove.” While the flowering of toropapa is said to be erratic, when they do appear the clusters of small (up to 4cm) cream to pink trumpet shaped flowers really do the job. They have a lovely perfume - it can seem to fill the air. And toropapa can flower for months through winter and into spring in a good year. Lovely.

The sweet flowers of the toropapa, found flowering at Otari Native Botanic Garden in Wellington

Toropapa has bright red berries, described as sweet tasting (and therefore edible!) But whether they have viable seed is related to the presence of plenty of nectar feeding birds, who presumably pollinate the flowers while drinking the nectar from the flowers. And alas, in many areas there is little viable seed because the numbers of these birds has plummeted. We haven’t just lost their song.

Toropapa, or karapapa - another Maori name for it, grows in places that are shaded and cool and moist but not water-logged. If these conditions are provided, it can be grown as a rather shy but lovely garden plant.

Farewell to Alfie, a great Sheltie companion

I guess most people think that the companion dog in their lives is pretty special, if not the best ever. But without doubt we were very very fortunate to have Alfie. He was a Shetland Sheepdog - chosen because they are intelligent, loyal, easily trained, great family dogs - and we had no prior dog experience. He was with us for 14 years and died just last week.

Alfie the Sheltie keeping a characteristic eye on everything at Island Bay beach, as the sun was setting.

The close bond that developed between our human ancestors and the wolf ancestors of the modern dog had benefits for both sides. Dogs can work for us - we benefit from the amazing sensitivity of their noses and ears, their alertness and their drives to perform particular tasks. Alfie showed his herding dog genes in his watchfulness - scanning the environment, barking to alert us to the arrival of potential predators, and in his actual herding habits - lacking sheep he would confuse retrieving dogs by following them, watching them collect the object they were after, and then ensuring they returned to the person who threw it for them. Some retrieving dogs clearly thought that he was after their stick or ball - no, he was not interested in that, he just wanted to make sure they went where they were meant to go.

The so-called “nonworking” breeds also work wonders for us. We have responsibilities to care for them, and in turn they offer a degree of acceptance and apparent non-judgement which can be in stark contrast to many of the damaging human to human interactions that are on show all around us. Living with a dog means being able to learn about their ways of reacting and being. Maybe we also find a bit of humility - we humans behave as if we are superior to other animals, but being close to other species helps us to gain perspective about the complexity of life and relationships that other species enjoy.

Most of all, he was fun, friendly, smart, energetic, upbeat, determined, protective of our cats, interested in the world, and apparently happy to see us every time. (He was also very generous in shedding his floof.) What a gift to have had him in our lives!

Late winter magnolia flowers - beauty prevails. Maybe caring for the planet can too.

It’s late winter here and it’s cold, wet and windy. But elsewhere things are on fire. We humans are having a devastating impact. In the rapidly warming Arctic there are widespread fires on an unprecedented scale. They are releasing huge quantities of the very greenhouse gases which we are responsible for and which are causing the conditions that make fires more likely. And fires in the Amazon appear to be caused deliberately - to displace the indigenous peoples who live in and care for the forest, to prevent the implementation of conservation projects, and to enrich the people who take over the land. Vicious circles, greed, indifference, failures to act and brutal actions. So ugly.

Late winter magnolia flowers look so pretty against the sky - but they are growing on the edge of a hill, exposed to battering by gales. Still they thrive.

When I see the magnolia flowers open up in the heavy weather, I am almost shocked by their beauty and resilience. How can they stay so lovely? I see that they might bruise, but they seem to hold on regardless.

So, you might ask, what’s that got to do with the climate ghastliness which is becoming impossible to deny?

We are faced with the enormity of the damage already in place. We are faced by obstinate attitudes of “business as usual” - continued and accelerated coal and oil extraction and use. We see deliberate refusal to acknowledge the seriousness of the situation or to act to change the trajectory we are on. All this could be overwhelming, like the gales that batter the magnolia plants. I know that recently I’ve been feeling very disheartened.

But then I see the magnolias on the windblown hillside and I realise the importance of tenacity. People who care about stopping the accelerating climate damage which endangers life on earth can be like the magnolias which hold on and open up and show the beauty of their flowering. There is beauty in tenacity, in holding on, in caring for life here on Earth, and doing better.

Little glimpses of gold - late winter jonquils and a puckish way to reduce plastic use

The end of winter always seems to be the hardest part of it here - worse weather, more illnesses, soil heavy with all the rain - not much opportunity to be outside for a bit of garden therapy. But popping up amongst the lush green weeds there are clusters of bright faces - Narcissus tazetta? or jonquilla? - jonquils for short. Bold little clusters of golden flowers, buffeted by the gales, but here to announce that spring will be here. Don’t give up, they say!

Jonquils - slightly wind battered but resolutely cheerful.

And there are other cold fronts upon us - the damage to our planet from human activity is stark - pollution, extinctions, climate change. So what’s this?

Well, NZ Consumer published a report on shampoo bars - how people rate them compared to liquid shampoo. Quite well, it turns out. So I thought I’d try one.

Puckish - merry, impish. Puck - a rubber disk used in ice hockey. Like a little golden hockey puck - it just looks cheerful to me. It’s a shampoo bar (“Godiva” from Lush. ) And it takes us a wee step away from plastic - so easy, and it was nice to use.

When we face big problems it’s good to remember how every little thing can have an impact - scent and bright flowers to cheer us up, fewer plastic bottles so a little less of the burden of once-used plastic for us to deal with. Little golden things.

A southerly front over the south coast - winter's dramas continue

The days are getting longer and spring is just around the corner, but winter still puts on a good show for us.  A southerly front brings a biting cold wind, heavy rain, and a reminder that there is just a great stretch of open ocean between us and Antarctica.  Brrrrrrr!

A cold southerly front heads across Island Bay, misty rain over the water and dramatic clouds darkening the sky.  A wonderful sight as long as you're under cover!

Gorgeous greens at the beginning of the Routeburn

The Routeburn track is one of New Zealand's so-called Great Walks (aka tramping tracks), but you don't have to go far at all to enjoy the wonderful greens of the beech forest - there is an easy nature walk at the beginning of the track.

Crossing the first swingbridge over the Route Burn, itself a lovely aqua colour, you see the banks covered with the greens of ferns, grasses, mosses, tree seedlings, some lichens.

Soft mosses cover almost everything, and the fine green foliage of the beech trees creates a very dreamy peaceful atmosphere.

A profusion of mosses, filmy ferns, and the dangling little white flowers of Luzuriaga parviflora - a native plant new to me but found throughout the country in cool wet mountain forests.

Lots of trickling water and little rivulets.

Ferns were the predominant ground cover in the somewhat drier areas.

But mostly it was moist and mossy, a perfect environment for filmy ferns - I was delighted to see such extensive groups of these tiny delicate treasures.

Mosses were covering one half of this large rock, filmy ferns were most prominent on the other half.  Unfortunately I didn't have a suitable lens to take close-ups of the filmy ferns, mosses etc.  Next time!

Closer to the river the forest was more open.

Looking back at the terrain that the Routeburn track enters you can see that there was no shortage of moisture - with mist, rain, and a recent summer snowfall in the mountains.

And as we left, the weather was closing in - a reminder of why you have to be well prepared whenever you head into the mountains - even if you are just doing a short easy walk.

New Year - crimson pohutukawa, golden pingao, capricious weather

It's a New Year but here in Wellington we continue to enjoy the same old weather patterns - southerly then northerly winds and gales, dull then sunny days, flat grey then vibrant blue skies, calm seas then large swells and crashing waves.  Never boring, but often frustrating. 

The crimson flowers of pohutukawa (Metrosideros excelsa, New Zealand Christmas tree) seem to light up on sunny days - seen here at Island Bay, the view across to Baring Head.

And golden pingao (Ficinia spiralis, pīkao, or golden sand sedge) seems to light up a leaden grey day - here on the rocky shore at Te Raekaihau Point on Wellington's south coast.

With our weather being so reliably changeable and capricious, the beauty of plants is reliable in a rather more welcome way.