s e v e n i s a j o u r n e y

This week took an unexpected turn. Back at the end of January our neighbor John took a 10-ton digger and knocked down the kennels. He said he would come back to take away the debris once he finished another job. Tuesday afternoon he turned up to drop off his 2.5-ton digger, as starting Wednesday the debris was going away! He also mentioned that he would be able to finally finish the work on our septic system. Way back last year (two days after Christmas 2003, no less) we had a sewerage problem. With John’s help we got a temporary fix in place. Now, finally, we would have a permenant solution. I just needed to finish digging the 25 meter long trench which would hold the new soakage field. Commence frantic shoveling all of Wednesday.

Thursday morning he was back to haul away more loads of rubble (he got 8 loads on Wedneday, another 6 went out Thursday), but first he used his digger to clear away the side of the septic tank and reveal the outflow pipe. Horrible discovery, our assumption of the level of the outflow pipe was wrong, by nearly 2 feet. The trench I had dug was too high up the hill-slope, and useless. So Thursday I spent 11 fun-filled hours digging a NEW 25-meter long trench. Friday morning I only had to put in another 3 or so hours of digging to finish the trench off, though by then I was a bit sore and exhausted.

We discovered that the old soakage field had been completely buried under 2 meters of fill when they leveled out the hill for the catery and kennels. This was about 15 years ago! It didn’t help that the old field was the old 1970′s-style field-tile piping. That stuffed-the field, and killed the system circa 1990. We also discovered the joy of a tank that had been backed-up and uncleaned for 15 years. Thankfully Mr Dawson came by and pumped it out that day. Yay! I had fun standing there chatting with him while a mighty suction hose did it’s work. Then he had to head down to Lower Hut to clean up lots of Gorilla poo… I mean clear the porta-loos on the movie set.

So, for the first time in more than a decade this property has a functional and legal sewerage system. That is a wonderful thing.

In total 56 cubic meters of rubble went away to the clean-fill tip. Expensive, but the site is wonderful, flat and clear. Now we can put a proper shed in its place! Plus, I have gained valuable digging experience. When the alien invasion comes, I will be able to dig my hole faster than most. What I would use that hole for is another matter.

Work has been sucking up too much of my non-work time lately….

But I have to say I am ejoying the heck out of HAVING A SUMMER. FOR THE FIRST TIME SINCE 2002. Ahhhh… With this summer coming so late, I was seriously thinking I might never wear short sleeves again. But never fear — we’ve now had several weeks of stunning weather in a row, the grass is all brown and dry, and I have the dorky patchy sunburn/tan patterns that one gets when one isn’t really paying attention.

Last Saturday was the start of the Chinese New Year celebrations. Wellington’s sister city in China is, of course, Beijing, and Beijing knows how to throw a party.

Got some more shots around the waterfront while we were there, including some of the Global Challenge yachts, and one of the thousands of jellyfish that had moved into the harbor in recent weeks. I and the little cabal of folks I walk to work with had been watching the progress of the fuss around the yachts in increments each morning, from the building of the new docks outside Shed 5 to the appearance, in groups of threes and fours over several successive mornings of the boats themselves, then the general bustle of them getting cleaned up and patched and painted and ready for the next leg of the race (they’re going around the word backwards — against the prevailing winds).

We hooked up with Stephanie at the parade and then trooped back to Frank Kitts to watch some of the performances. Many of these were school kids, but some were professional Chinese acrobats, sponsored by Beijing. They were worth cramming ourselves into the three square feet we found of unoccupied shade, but eventually, our legs and butts cramped up and we drove out to Newtown for some yummy yummy Italian pizza at the Mediterranean Food Warehouse Cafe. One of Stephanie’s friends’ flats on Mt. Vic had an uninterrupted view of Beijing’s *other* present, which was three bargeloads of serious-ass fireworks. Oh yeah. A Chinese New Year fireworks display by the people who *invented* fireworks. All I can say is, “Wow.”

Plus, the dislay itself was enhanced by some wacky meteorological effects, namely, the fact that it was almost completely still. Wellington itself had just had three days of some serious fog, which seemed to burn off almost everywhere except where the lightest of Southerlies pushed it up into the harbor channel and — rather inconveniently for the people trying to get into town for the rugby Sevens — the airport. (Thursday morning was especially thick, and we were treated to the crew teams ghosting in and out of the gold and silver wall of fog on a harbor flat as a pool.) There was no fog for the fireworks, but the air was so still that the smoke they generated just hung there, almost obscuring the show from some angles, and from others adding the extra dimension of the explosions lighting up the cloud from within.

Afterwards, Stephanie came out to our place for a sort of mini farmstay (I hope she wasn’t expecting a slumber party, ’cause we all fell right into bed). The next day was hot and sunny and hot (how hot ? I think it was maybe 28/83), so we first moved the alpacas down the the stream paddock in the front, where they tucked greedily into the clover and rolled around in the rushes. Jim, whose flared-nostrilled panting had prompted us to take them down there in the first place, splashed right into the stream. I wasn’t long behind him. Yum.

Leftover cold pizza for lunch, then the fun bit. We’d read that alpacas like playing in sprinkler hoses when they’re hot, and we have a photo of Jim cushed up with camelid dignity in an inflatable kiddie pool, but Id’d always assumed that they had to sort of work themselves up to it first. That they’d initially be frightened of the hose and the strange sensation, and have to get used to it. Nope. When we took them back up from the stream paddock, we paused in the little yard by the house and turned the hose on. They “got it” immediately, jostling for position in front of the hose as I sprayed their legs and bellies. Galadriel, the little black girl, positively blissed out, her head and eyelids at half-mast as the water plastered her short, fine fluff to her legs. Must try to get pcs before the summer is out.