The big old conservatory-style greenhouse at the Christchurch Botanical Gardens is re-opened, after three and a half years closure post earthquakes. We opened the door and a wall of humid warm air smelling like moss and soil ballooned out to meet us, alive with the promise of rampant growth and profuse greenery. Umm, just right. Brings me back to my Cornell conservatory days.

To my surprise and delight, Milo was almost as excited about the new place to explore as me. We never did identify the source of this giant trumpet flower, but it was sitting conveniently by the footpath and we enjoyed it.

I think I know plant families pretty well until I get anywhere near the tropics. The humbling reality is that there are hundreds of plant families (thousands of plants) that I’ve never even heard of.

The conservatory must have been heated even during the winters when it was closed, because those big philodendrons and bougainvillea weren’t put there any time recently. A bunch of the other plants are potted newcomers though, and I’ll be curious to see if it remains a neat and orderly coordinated display or if it goes the way of jungles and becomes…well…a jungle.  Ooh, lots of greenhouse visits in our future!

“Yeah, I’m cool.” Milo’s all kitted out in his new boots, new spider man sunglasses, and way-oversized walking pole. It was a beautiful Canterbury winter day. Sunny, 10 degrees C (50 F), and relatively still, so we did what we usually do under the circumstances–head out hiking.

I seriously didn’t expect Milo to walk very far, considering the whinge level we endure just to get to the neighborhood playground. But he was in the zone today. In the end he climbed up most of the way on his own two feet, energized by M&M’s and “purple mountain muscle” aka Jeremiah’s Clif shots.  That’s lake Coleridge in the background.

Happy kid! He was in the lead at this juncture.

Aw, family mug shot. Naomi is actually there, she’s sleeping on my back. Sitting up at the top munching sandwiches and gazing at the snow-crusted peaks I realized that there’s no where in New England where you can get so remote so fast. Peak Hill is an easy hike an hour and a half out of Christchurch, and on the most gorgeous weekend hiking day we saw only three other groups.

Peak hill was once an island in a sea of glacier ice. Now the braided rivers (they strike me as tangled more than braided) fill those valleys.

Yup, this is what parents like to see. The puppy got enough exercise.

I think it’s inevitable; every parent wants their kid to be like them. Or at least like the same things they like. That’s why I’m working on giving Milo a love of insects. While we were on a walk in Lancaster we saw this big mama parasitic wasp laying her eggs deep inside the maple tree, presumably into a larvae of some sort, judging from the exit holes in the trunk. It looked like a lot of work. She had three tubes pushed inside there, and was straining with the effort. I later looked it up and she is a huge ichneumonid wasp, probably after a woodwasp larvae which she found using her antennae to sense its vibrations deep in the tree. She drills a whole through solid wood, then lays her egg inside the other larvae (still living), and her baby eats the other from the inside out. Amazing. Gruesome. And Jeremiah is completely uninterested. I don’t get it!

I also like skunks. And porcupines. Slow, defensible creatures that never hurry and no one bothers to eat. A skunk was trying to take up residence under Omi’s house while we were there, and she was combating it by filling its hole with moth balls. We did a lot of talking about “melling dunks,” as Milo says. He can’t pronounce “s” followed by a consonant.  We “melled” it in the basement, “melled” it in the yard, and “melled” other ones while out driving.  One night we even saw it eating bird seed under the neighbor’s feeder.

Chocolate donuts with sprinkles. I USED to like these things, but this time the pleasure wasn’t as pure as I remember. I must be getting fussy in my old age.

Our trip back to the US was all about family. The main disadvantage of living in NZ is not the lack of retail shopping or the lousy housing options; it’s the distance from family. So here we are, soaking up the relatives.

Ah yes, Omi and Abi grinning with the baby at the Indiana Dunes.

Omi and Abi live just around the corner from Omi’s parents, so we dropped by regularly to shoot the breeze with the Great Grands.

Bubbles! Grandma sits by enjoying the noisy action.

A weekend trip to Lancaster PA gave us a chance to see another set of Great Grands, Mommom and Poppop (Abi’s parents). Poppop’s health has been precarious this past year, and I particularly wanted to bring the kids for them to meet. They have been a huge wonderful influence in our lives. Here’s a tribute to godly loving grandparents, and the tremendous blessing they are.

Naomi’s happy to sit with other people so long as Mommy isn’t within view….so here I am hiding while Mommom gives her a cuddle.

It’s pretty rare that all four of us sisters are in the same place at the same time. This time it happened in Lancaster PA where we all joined up to see Mommom and Poppop. Left to right: Kelsey, Susanna, Molly (Naomi), Rebecca.

Our cousin Bethany came up for the weekend too, meaning all the granddaughters had congregated. She’s self-reportedly no cook, but she can flip grilled veggies….just don’t ask her to shuck the corn!

Moriah joined us, Jeremiah’s youngest sister, rounding out the entourage of girls (well ok, I guess we’re all women now), and sharing the photos of her new wedding dress as well as the latest family news.

Back in Chicago, Rebecca good-naturedly provides the bottom layer of the kid sandwich. Her appetite for play almost never ran out, and she had scoped out all the playgrounds in a 5 mile radius before we arrived.

“I Winned!” Aunt Becky crows….or at least “I got the ball in!” Mini golf with Milo was a hoot, bringing back memories of Cape Cod fun as kids.

Here’s Omi in her element. I admittedly haven’t got much patience for kids’ shenanigans when it comes to bed time. I want to put them down in their bed, sing them one song, and exit. No last drinks of water. No prolonged bedtime stories. No whinging. Needless to say that takes a bit of training, and we haven’t gotten Naomi up to speed yet. Omi became the appointed bedtime walker, dosing her with a soporific combination of song and rhythm that even Naomi couldn’t resist.

Milo likes trains, and so does Abi. Fortunately, the house is just one row back from the busy train lines. Whenever the railroad crossing bell dinged Milo shouted “Train!” and hustled his favorite train vantage point. He liked to try and distinguish the roar of a commuter from the rattle of a freight train.  In a boy’s world you can never have too many trains, so they both enjoyed the elaborate model at the Chicago museum of Science and Technology.

Yes family, we love you!

America is Large. Big land, big cities, big houses, big coffees. We indulged in 99 cent Dunkin Donut coffees a few times….a gallon of coffee for $4. Until we lived in a small country, I hadn’t thought of the USA as particularly large, but it is.

Oh yes, and big cars. Full sized pick up trucks galore, and parking lots chocked full of these generously proportioned SUV’s — the Mama Cars in prosperous American suburbia.

Suburban Chicago looks like an arboretum. I’m not sure exactly why big trees are scorned in Christchurch, but the open grassy lawns and spreading limbs make for a pleasant shady neighborhood here. The absence of fences feels friendly.

The broad leaf forest feels friendly too. Wide fluttery leaves and sun dapples.  Despite the greater Chicago metropolitan area hosting 12 million people (the whole of NZ has 4 million), there seems to still be enough space for trees and forest preserves. 

We’re missing oak in this hardwood medley, but we have lots of maples, walnut, and black locust.

Cat tails aren’t particularly large, but they’re a friendly north American plant I was glad to see again.  If you had asked me a year ago to describe suburban Chicago summer I would not have said “Green,” but that’s my impression on this visit.  Green except for the poor ash trees, skeletons now that the emerald ash borer has established its residence. 

We’re deep in kid zone here at Omi and Abi’s house. Daily schedule: Wake up too early. Eat three breakfasts. Go on a balance-bike ride around the neighborhood. Visit a playground. Lunch. Nap. Swim in the backyard kiddy pool. Before we arrived Aunt Becky scoped out all the playgrounds in the vicinity. And this is suburban Chicago. There are a LOT of them.

Aunt Becky’s appetite for playground tag is insatiable–lucky Milo!

Naomi’s getting more coordinated by the day. Rapid crawling, standing, cruising along chairs and knees on wiggly legs, attempting reckless climbing.

There are little spray parks dotted around neighborhoods, spots where the city has colorful sprinklers and fountains expressly for kids.

Water umbrella!

Here we are, packed and ready to go. Two checked bags, two car seats, two carry-ons, two kids, one mommy. Jeremiah saw us off at Christchurch airport for our 3 week trip back to the states, visiting family.

Christchurch airport sports a whole herd of plastic duckies just waiting to be arranged into an obstacle course. Milo obliged and we exercised his legs in preparation for the upcoming flight.

Naomi, cheerful as always.

We’re all excited! Milo has actually made this trip before, but of course doesn’t remember, so it’s all a new adventure for him.

A new adventure liberally laced with treats! Milo enjoyed a last fluffy before departing Auckland airport.

Here we are, ready to tuck into the overnight flight to San Francisco.  The most amazing feat: No spillage of dinner, even with teetery airplane trays and Naomi’s waving hands in my lap.   These bassinet seats worked great for us; Naomi got a decent sleep, and even if I saw the clock every hour. We sat next to kid-friendly folks too, always a bonus.

Dawn finally came, and along with it San Francisco. Customs ended up being a non-issue, thankfully, and we consumed a smoothie and a very large (American medium) mocha while waiting to board our last plane to Chicago.

“Does he want to sit in the pilot’s seat?” We poked our head into the cockpit while boarding our last plane and were offered a neat photo op by the pilot.

Season swap complete! There’s a splash park near Omi and Abi’s house, and though the temperatures are only in the high 70s, it feels plenty hot to us.

Ready, Set, Go! Milo has found a playmate almost as tireless as himself in his Aunt Becky.

Naomi likes Perchik! My mom and dad have been taking care of my pet bunny since we left for NZ, and although a bit more docile with age, he’s plugging along well, shedding fur as strongly as ever! Naomi loved giving him big furry kisses which Perchik tolerated admirably.

First off, a picture of Naomi smiling. Naomi is always smiling. Or if she’s not, her needs are very simple–food, sleep, removal of Milo from her chest. This is in direct contrast to Milo’s needs as a three-and-a-half-year-old, which I haven’t quite figured out yet.

The day started out bright and early with Daddy-made eggs and oatmeal. Hot chocolate is packed as a treat for the hike.

On our way to Mt Oxford, one of the foothills of the Southern Alps closest to Christchurch, Milo announced that he wanted to go to the beach. “Well now, Milo, we can go to the beach another day, but today we’re going to the mountains.” Whinging starts. Jeremiah got the pleasure of carrying him, with the constant complaints in his ear. “I’m too hot!” Hat removed. Ten seconds later “I’m too cold!” “I want to go to the beach.” “I want to get down.” “I want hot chocolate.” A peanutbutter-and-jelly buys us a few minutes of quiet. 

We should acknowledge, for the record, that he did move under his own locomotion, for a few minutes. We were walking through a beautiful beech forest that cloaks the lower reaches of the Alps. Nerdy tip: These beeches are a different family than those we’re used to from NY (Fagaceae). Called “Nothofagaceae,” the family name means “bastard beech.” I guess the taxonomists are from the northern hemisphere. Nothofagaceae have tiny leaves and there are members in South America from the bygone days before continental drift.  Jeremiah wants to bottle the musty-sweet smell of the beech forest and sell it as a men’s cologne, he likes it that much.

Half way up the mountain the beech forest abruptly ended and the tussockland took over. All the grasses are decked out in their finest frozen water gems. On the south side (shady side) of the mountain it stayed below freezing all day.

A bit higher up the rain must have been freezing as it felt to build these sharp crystals along each grass stalk.

As we climbed up out of the shadow of the mountain the warmth of the sun abruptly greeted us.  You could feel it first on your hat, then face, then shoulders, then knees.  The mountain was outlined in a sparkling halo.

This is why we hike. You can see for miles up here, and looking north or west all you see is more wilderness.

Last time we hiked Mt Oxford (November 2012) there was new snow on the mountain, even though it was nearly summer. This time, in the dead of winter, the snow is still confined to higher up in the mountains.

We met another group of hikers at the top and Milo perked up–he likes people. He hasn’t got a shy bone in his body, and is happy to share with total strangers whatever happens to be forefront in his mind. Plus, one of the hikers retrieved his mitten that he dropped half way down, and over which he had been worrying. Two mouse mittens, Mommy’s warm puffy vest, and another shot of hot chocolate brought out the smiles.

Miss Naomi, for the record, was still smiling.  She actually got a bit cold on the way down but we didn’t know until we felt her hands at the car, since she didn’t make a peep.

Aw, family photo. With each family member that we add it’s exponentially more difficult to get everyone 1) looking at the camera and 2) smiling.  The Canterbury plains stretch out below us, and if the haze under those distant clouds wasn’t hiding it, you’d be able to see the sea.  Despite the Milo Whinge, it was a glorious winter day.

This weekend marks the winter solstice, shortest day of the year in the southern hemisphere. For some reason, Kiwis think winter starts June first, probably because it feels like winter as we’re huddling in the not-so-warm houses, hugging mugs of tea while the condensation drips down the window panes. But I prefer the solstice date because it seems more elegant and less arbitrary.

In honor of the “dead of winter,” I made Naomi a couple new pairs of thick wool tights. I wore the soles out of my beloved Smartwool socks but hadn’t had the heart to toss them since the rest of the sock still seemed perfectly serviceable. Good thing, because now they’ve got a new life on an 8-month-old’s legs.

To be fair, Christchurch winters aren’t really dead, and we get some glorious days that are even beach-worthy, especially if your companions are Brits who consider anything better than a downpour to be beach weather.

To find snow, you have to drive over to the mountains. Here’s the view from Foggy Peak in the foothills of the Southern Alps looking back over the Canterbury plain to the bump of the Banks Penninsula.

Here’s what you see if you look the other direction, southwest, towards Arthur’s Pass. What a stunning day. We could see wind on the lake down below, but hardly a breath stirred on Foggy Peak.

My hiking companion, a colleague from work, laughed herself silly over my snow shoes. Look at that shiny hard surface–snow shoes would be the quick ticket down the mountain, and it wouldn’t be a comfortable ride. We wore Microspikes. They worked like a charm, but we still watched our steps carefully as the bits of loosen ice skittered down the hill below us.

There must have been a good dousing with freezing rain at some point during the past week to get this thick buildup on the tussock grass.

Yup, not a kid hike this one. Thanks for having the kiddos for the day, Jeremiah!

Jeremiah spent the day with the kids. Milo’s request was to ride the bus, so they took a ride into center city to check out the rebuild progress. Much of the area still looks like a war zone, but I think it’s turned a corner. Buildings are starting to go UP now, where before all the work was leveling the munted ones. 

Oh my, is that a tower crane and a boom crane in the same photo? Not to mention that big hammer thing. All the heavy machinery a little boy (or grown man) could want. A new building is going up.

Some of the empty lots have temporary art pieces to improve the space until it’s used for something else. I like these ones, and so did Milo.  Those spikes up top look like they’re meant to prevent giant pigeons from perching there. 

“Can you put this picture on blog?” Milo queried as we drove out to Lake Clearwater last Saturday morning. He wanted to post all his photos of smudgy car windows with blurred fields beyond, but we told him he’d have to be a little selective, and this one of Naomi’s tongue-out grin was my favorite. We’re just starting to see the potential for a two-kid family, where one child amuses the other and they’re happier together than separated. Well….sometimes.

“Baches,” the Kiwi term for a water-side shack, started being built next to Lake Clearwater sometime in the 1930s. This was one of the originals. It’s a no-frills cabin, improved little by little over the years through the lumps and bumps of hovely additions. There’s a sink with a tap but the rainwater connection tank hasn’t been hooked to it yet. The old coal range looks nice but fills the place with smoke. There’s a girls’ outhouse and one for the boys out back, as well as a new “bathroom unit” that will someday be connected to a septic tank and a water source. If the weather was cruddy it wouldn’t be that cozy a spot to hole up with a book, but it provides a decent place to lay your head after a day outdoors in the Canterbury high country.

One of the newest improvements is a wire looped across the ceiling….if we had brought light bulbs and a car battery we could have had electric lighting. Our friends Damien and Anna know the owners of the bach, so we got to go as their guests for the weekend.

Triple-deckers! This tiny bach packs in beds for 10 people. Sleeping in one put me in mind of submarine berths.

Milo woke up before the crack of dawn and accompanied Damien out looking for rabbits. No bunnies stirring, but a beautiful sunrise, disturbed only by Milo plunking rocks into the lake.

Jeremiah and Damien spent a few hours Saturday looking for chamois, but saw neither hide nor hair of them. This Canterbury high country is naked, I wouldn’t live their either if I were a chamois. No trees, and the tussock grass does little to hide the scars of geological history. You can see the wide valley carved out by an ancient glacier and the deep gravel deposits etched by old river paths. This time I noticed the jumbled lumpy gravel hummocks that spew out of the clefts of the mountains where the brittle rock dribbles down with each storm, as well as the smoother alluvial fans near the valley base.

Before we left we drove a bit further up the road to Potts Station by the Rangitata River. Mt Sunday is the low hill in the foreground where Lord of the Rings (capital of Rohan, King Theoden’s realm) was filmed.

Damien and Mimo (Italian friend) spotted some spawning salmon in this fast-moving creek, but we didn’t try to catch any. I’m not sure where they actually lay their eggs, we don’t know of any lakes in the headwaters. That water is MOVING, it’s hard to imagine swimming upstream any distance, let alone all the way from the ocean.  I wonder how long it takes them.