Thursday, November 21, 2013


This lovely sunflower was 'snapped' by me earlier this year on a visit to my Mum in Kakanui.

Mum was also a florist and was often called upon to throw a bunch together for some reason or other. I was an endless source of despair and hilarity to her for my efforts of 'throwing a bunch together' was literally just that!

This wee fella is made by Mum (Beth) - she made the felt and spun the wool and then put him together. She has also left a legacy of patchwork blankets, all different colours and stitches to envelop and comfort her grandchildren.

Such a dear wee girl, and already a gardener! Miss you, Mum.

Wednesday, November 13, 2013

A massive curve ball

My absences from here have been growing longer. I have noticed that even if no-one else has!

The house situation is far from resolved and the lawyers are now slugging things out, things will eventually be done and we will (one day) be home again.

A recent event has completely knocked me sideways, head over heels, winded me beyond belief.

My precious adored Mum passed away suddenly following complications from a relatively straightforward surgery on her knee. Mum, as it turned out, had a dicky ticker. No-one knew, she never complained of any of the usual symptoms. The specialists at Dunedin Intensive Care Unit were brilliant but in the end (even after an 8 hour operation which saw her receive 5 by passes, plus another surgery to remove a blood clot from behind her heart) it was all too much for her.

She was the eldest of 2 children. Her father was a plumber and her mother worked as a printers assistant. Mum had a way with people which made everyone immediately at ease with her, she spun wool and dyed it and turned it into all kinds of magic; she made felt and did beaded jewellery. She could turn her hand to anything, and her garden is a delight. The sparrows, starlings and wee wax-eyes will do it hard without her there to feed them (to distract them from her vege plot she said). She delighted in the simple ordinary things in life which she somehow managed to make seem exciting and interesting. She had a naïve sense of humour which meant sometimes you had to spell the jokes out for her, which somehow made them even funnier. She was a familiar sight round the wee village she lived in, slowly getting about with her walking stick and a smile.

She was such a source of knowledge and joy to us all. We will miss her so much.

At her funeral I read The DashRest in peace Mum, thanks for everything. We love and miss you more than you will ever know.
And remember "give us a call when you get there so we know you got home safely".