Look past that bit of Maori-style “tatoo work” on Milo’s chin (washable marker), and you’ll see he’s learning another favorite Kiwi past-time. Home brew. This batch Jeremiah made is ginger beer, and it lives for its fermentation life behind the chair in the living room where Milo can monitor its bubbling activity. This particular batch might not be reproducible despite careful following of the recipe, because right at the end Milo dipped his markery hand in the otherwise-carefully-controlled yeast colony, no doubt adding a bit of “local”  fauna.

If you’ve never had small children under your care, you won’t understand the momentousness of this photo. Milo told us he had to poop, sat on the potty calmly and did his business with a minimum of fuss and mess…..though he did request a book, as you can see. This is after 29 months of poopy diapers–averaging one a day that makes a conservative estimate of 850 brown gooey stinky messes. (And I’m sure Nathan and Marguerite would say that’s very conservative, considering the diaper-soiling abilities of a new born!) “Mommy, happy?” Milo asks. Yes! Mommy is VERY happy!

We had such a good time out hiking last weekend that we planned another trip for this weekend, despite predictions of rain for Sunday. Mt Somers (the snowy one in the photo) is only about 1.5 hours from Christchurch, and on the drier side of the Southern Alps, so we hoped to avoid the snarly purple and red area on the rain radar, west of the divide.

Thumbs up PB&J! That sandwich definitely pegs us as Americans, no one else seems to have the peanut butter fetish. Milo actually walked quite a ways up the trail (including almost 100 stairs) from the car before climbing in the backpack.

We spent quite a bit of time scrambling around the banks of this beautiful stream. I kept thinking of my Dad, who loves pretty streams with lush greenery. This stream reminds me a bit of the Opalescent south of Flowed Lands in the Adirondacks.

The stream is in a valley that never sees sun in the winter and we hit lovely patches of snow from time to time. This bit of snow looked like it had grown furry hoar frost on top of it, it was all sparkly. As NY natives, we were happy! Some of the banks were icy, so we took it a bit slow.

See this bridge? It also made us happy! We weren’t sure if the stream was bridged or not and I was steeling myself for a cold wading crossing.

Check out this neat waterfall! The path goes behind it, and the vegetation above breaks up the water making this nice (cold!) shower below, as well as a lovely moist place for verdant mosses.

See that white patch of snow among the dark trees? Look closely and you can spot Pinnacles hut where we spent the night. It’s mostly used by rock climbers in the summer (“Pinnacles” is the name of the rock formation behind the hut, a climbers paradise).  We hadn’t looked at the map very carefully to realize how much climbing the day would entail, so the hut was a welcome sight that afternoon.

As we climbed up to the hut we got more snow, never enough to need snowshoes but enough to reflect that refreshing white light that to us means Winter Wonder.

The hut hadn’t been used for a few days so the fire was cold, but being a serviced hut there was a good stock pile of chopped firewood, some of it even dry. Milo thought helping Mommy start the fire was fantastic, and blew with gusto. Of course he didn’t always blow at the right time or in the right place….but that’s a learning curve. Maybe in a few years we’ll have him running up the trail and starting the fire so his slow old parents are welcomed to a warm hut.

Speaking of childhood learning curves, Milo made a big step forward on the potty training track this weekend. That cookie he’s triumphantly holding is the reward for pooping on the outhouse potty (seen in the background). He kept his diaper dry for the whole hike in, announced his need for the facilities soon after we arrived, then actually sat on the “long drop” potty and produced something within a reasonable amount of time. For those of you without children or whose potty training memories are a distant past, this constituted a major victory on the battle against diapers. Mommy even did three separate styles of “potty dance” (celebration dances that seem to really communicate to Milo how HAPPY Mommy is when he uses the potty). Just be glad I spared you the picture of the long drop potty and all its contents.

Yikes, what’s that?! Jeremiah brought his rifle along and went out in the late afternoon to see what he could see, and to my vast surprise he returned just after dark toting a big set of hindquarters slung over bloody shoulders. That man has the most remarkable success with hunting! We shared the hut with a father and 10-year-old son, not vegetarians but also definitely not hunters. The son’s comment was “Wow, I’ve never seen a real live deer before,” to which I had to reply that those hindquarters were certainly real but no longer live. They were good sports, but declined to share our fresh venison steak.

Here are our hut friends. It’s always fun to have company at a hut, and the German dad with his Filipino son made for good-humored interesting company. 

Trophy legs? No, we didn’t leave them on the sign to startle other hikers arriving at the hut.  Incidentally, meat is really heavy in the pack.  I could hardly pick up Jeremiah’s pack on the way out, and he estimated that the meat alone added 35 lbs to his normal load, which already includes almost all our gear except Milo.  And our freezer is already full of game, so why did he go through the effort?  I don’t really understand, but I’ll hypothesize that it’s something to do with family tradition coupled with a drive to be rugged and self-sufficient.  “Ug, me man!” 

In the morning while Jeremiah took care of his meat I took a walk up to the ridge above the hut, examining possum tracks and admiring mountain lichens as well as oogling the winter scenery on a lovely windless morning.

Here’s a little up-close look at the tiny alpine plants huddling among the rocks on the ridge. Why is the moss orange? I actually don’t know, but I’m curious. The scene looks like a photo of a coral reef.

A special hot drink at a cafe seems to be our standard after-hike winter treat, and today was no exception. This cute little place has been open since 1869, and the amount of traffic then get on a quiet Sunday afternoon out in the middle of nowhere (farming country) was startling. They make quality hot chocolate too.

Milo cracked his first joke the other day. Well ok, it’s a 2-year-old’s version of joke, but I laughed nonetheless. We were sitting eating breakfast with the milk jug and orange juice jug on the table. Milo was kicking his heals on his chair. “Me, kick!” Yes Milo, I hear you. “Mommy, kick?” No, I don’t really want to kick my chair. “Daddy, kick?” Nope, Daddy isn’t interested in kicking his chair either. Then Milo, with a big grin on his face, looking at the milk jug, says “Milk, kick?” I cracked up. Gratified, Milo tried again. “Juice, kick?”
Well ok, so it’s not a huge side-splitter, but his sense of humor is growing.

That’s right, there are baby seals in this stream. We drove back from Marlborough Monday and stopped mid-way near Kaikoura at Ohau bay, where a freshwater stream runs into the ocean. It’s the nursery for the many seal mama’s that are out fishing and gossiping on the rocks. All the seal pups come here to play where the Orca wales can’t eat them, hundreds of them splashing in the water and posing on the rocks. It’s even more dramatic than an Alaskan salmon run, if that’s possible.

Every 3-4 days the pups go back to the ocean, somehow locate Mommy seal, nurse, then make their way back up the stream.

They move like Amazonian mud fish, humping along on their fins and back flippers. They play in pools all along the stream, but their Mecca is a big pool with a waterfall, just a ten minute walk up from the ocean. It’s absolutely writhing with baby seals. They’re fabulous little fellows, cavorting about, playing with leaves, jumping over one another, playing king of the waterfall. And the wonderful thing is that they’re not shy. Dozens of tourists gawk at them all day long, and they just go about their astonishingly cute baby seal business.

It sleeted and pelted wet snow Tuesday night in Chirstchurch, but up in the Port Hills it snowed. Thursday was gorgeous sunny so Milo and I took a drive up Dyers Pass. I had been feeling pretty grumpy about winter and it’s associated goose bumps, but as soon as we saw snow it all changed–now I hope we can plan a weekend snowshoe trip somewhere in the mountains. Amazing what a bit of white will do for the spirits. Milo like it too, and it’s quite a novelty for him.  Plus, the day was calm and sunny and really quite warm for winter. 

We spent a few minutes chucking hunks of snow over the bank. “One, Two, Three, Boom!” Lyttelton Harbor is in the background.

Stamping on Mommy’s shadow is a new favorite activity for Milo. He giggles while I squeal and run away. Summit Rd is perfect for this–open and quiet.

“Under!” Milo declares. It took me a minute to compute, but he was the bridge and the water was going under him. Ah, the simple joys of a two year old!

Yup, this is our yard the same week, no snow down in Christchurch city. Milo was a good helper for raking leaves and squishing them down in the compost bin. Plus he’s a fun little companion, all the more so since he’s become so chatty. Still just single words strung together, but you get a window into what he’s thinking.

Milo spent a good 30 minutes this morning vigorously washing the inside of our windows that were dripping with condensation. Good little helper! Unfortunately, the dirt really only got smeared around, but if I armed him with a window spray and paper towels I bet we’d actually make significant progress. The slightly encouraging bit about this chilly damp morning was that the windows I sealed with a cheap kit sent from the U.S. (basically double sided tape and thin plastic) weren’t wet.

It rained Saturday. It rained Sunday. It rained Monday, today, and it’s predicted to rain the next two days following. Saturday Milo and Jeremiah went gutter-splashing for a little while to expend some energy. It’s no use trying to line-dry laundry with rain and 100% humidity, so with the stinky (literally!) laundry mounting I finally cranked up the fitful little drier we bought off Trademe. You don’t appreciate what you have until you loose it–and that includes static-dry winter air and a fully functional drier that can both heat and blow air simultaneously. When we first moved here and saw the common-place towel heaters in the bathrooms I thought it was a strange foo-foo weakness for folks who don’t even use central heating, but I’ve since come to realize that in chilly damp winter houses, towels never dry. The heated towel bars are actually a necessity to prevent moldy towels.

One of Jeremiah’s hunting buddies invited us down to spend a weekend at his aunt and uncle’s house 2 hours south of Christchurch, in Temuka. The guys planned to hunt some ducks and butcher a couple sheep while they we were down there, and I was pleased at the prospect of a hunting weekend for Jeremiah that didn’t involve me and Milo being left behind in Christchurch. On the way we made a stop at a hunting and fishing store in Ashburton, conveniently located next to a coffee shop. Milo chugged his chai tea and begged for more. At some point he’ll have to learn that expensive cafe drinks don’t grow on trees (so to speak).

Kevin, our friend Damien’s uncle, walked out into his farm-yard and picked up a rock. “We don’t have many of these around here, so when I see one in a field I save it–they come in handy.” I chuckled. A lack of rocks is a foreign concept to southern tier NY farmers who sometimes have more rocks than soil! Milo sure enjoyed rattling these little stones down the corrugated iron slope.

Here’s Damien’s aunt Shona and Anna walking with Milo to bag up some potatoes.                            When we arrived we approached Shona’s house through a carefully manicured garden and entered through beautifully-etched glass patio doors, but as soon as she opened her mouth I relaxed. Our spunky two-year-old was even more welcome in their lovely home than we were, and the first thing Shona did (even before she put the kettle on!) was to pull out the stash of kids’ toys and make Milo welcome. Walking in the muddy farm yard? “No worries, Milo can use the John Deere gum-boots to stamp in the puddles.” Had a potty accident? “No worries there either, it happens! Milo can take a bath and when we wash out his clothes, they’ll dry in front of the fire in no time.”  Shona was lovely and obviously enjoys children.  I never felt like I had to apologize for any of Milo’s antics, so my weekend was relaxing too!

Pull Milo! The hose was set up for rinsing ducks, but Milo enjoyed rearranging it a bit.

The farm grows potatoes (for chips) and carrots (for juicing), as well as raising sheep. Their tractors are all John Deere green, and Milo is just starting beginning the tractor-fascination phase of his life. He got to clamber up into this one with Kevin.

Look at the little guy, pleased as punch with his John Deere gum boots in the bargain!

Milo recognized Jeremiah coming down the lane with Damien, and he ran to him gleefully shouting “Daddy!” How gratifying!

Milo is definitely not squeamish. He’s just as pleased with a dead duck as a living one!  I’m sure I wasn’t like that as a kid, but I don’t think it’s a bad thing.  He patted the sheep before then got butchered, then quite cheerfully commented “meat!” to the hanging carcasses and “mess!” to the blood on the floor.  It’s beyond me how we as humans can be so tender and caring one moment (like Milo putting his teddy bear to sleep), and blatantly callous regarding animal’s lives the next.  I’ve certainly seen myself get less and less sympathetic to the animals with each one that goes into our freezer. 

Kevin says last weekend they shot about 100 ducks by the creek, but this weekend the guys just got three. They said the gorgeous sunny clear weather is actually not good for duck hunting (they go out to the ocean where they’re safe rather than hunkering down to shelter from wind and rain in the creek bed), but I’ll not complain about a sunny warm day! Besides, after seeing the process it takes to pluck a duck by hand, I can’t imagine processing 100.

Shona encouraged Milo to stomp through the puddles, and I realized that I’m probably a bit too concerned with him getting wet and muddy than I should be. Not that I think that it’s bad for him, but it does make more work for Mama….. Still, I have fond memories of puddle stomping at our White Street house when we were little, and I would want Milo to have the same enjoyment.

Guess what this green weed is blanketing acres of this paddock? Spinach. High quality hybrid spinach, to boot. The other crop Kevin and his son Simon grow are specialty vegetable seeds. New Zealand’s southern hemisphere location and Canterbury’s dry climate makes it ideal for producing Asian vegetable seeds for the following season in Japan (such as Bok Choi), spinach, and other veggie and grass seeds.  Apparently the harvester lost a lot of spinach seed and the whole field is now a carpet of perfect high-quality baby spinach. Kevin and Shona eat the stereotypical farmer diet–meat and potatoes–and Kevin is going to turn the sheep into the spinach.  I snagged a big bag first, but couldn’t convince them to try a baby spinach salad for supper.