An Angel In The Wild: 2023

It's really quite difficult to begin mid-way through a story, a life, a sentence and have it make sense, but I can't go back and explain it all thoroughly, so I can only hope that some of it comes out in the wash- fresh and bright and sensible. It's been 45 years....45 years since we met all the way back in Miramar Baptist church in Wellington, one November weekend in 1978. I was 17 and I lived in the Dental Nurses Hostel up in Kelburn in Wellington and I had walked across the city to get there. Rob lived in Auckland and at home still, and he was working as a telephone linesman for the NZPO, P&T, Maintenance Branch (Post & Telegraph- obviously hadn't rebranded yet!). Just how we came together in that moment is extraordinary and remarkable in every way and cannot ever be undone. But it has cost us everything and we are not sorry!

There are so many things I wish that someone told you when you are growing up- preparing for life: stuff like when you meet someone and fall in love you don't just come together as deliriously happy lovers, destined to live happily ever after, you also bring (both of you) a whole genetic, trauma and energetic family lineage along for the ride; a river of one kind, or another, that you cannot reframe or delete. You get what you get! Rob eventually remembered & connected with the fact that he was born in Kenya, Nairobi to British parents and that he came to New Zealand on the last voyage of the ocean liner the TSMV Wanganella, when he was 7 years old- with his parents, older brother Roy and grandmother 'Nang/Nangy'.

I knew that my mother made a damned good suicide attempt when I was 6, having been told that she had to go, by my father- I saw the ambulance take her away one lunch time. Having survived, she never came home again, but I had no emotional connection to that experience for a very long time afterwards. The deep trauma wound was there though sitting in my nervous system biding it's time, before making it's presence felt in dramatic ways in those early years as a young mother- "The body tells the story". So why didn't anyone ever talk to me about losing my mother- not my father's loss and guilt, mine!

Most people: our families and a multitude of church people gave our marriage six months in December of 1980. Well that was helpful and supportive, wasn't it.

It's taken 45 years to understand that we were always intended to be "Holy Outsiders". Ours was going to be a wildly different path to that of our families and their ways; and that path that we followed- along the hedgerows, fringes and margins had no name, no signpost. What we didn't realise was that for all these years we'd been finding our way back "home" by creating beauty, grace and Englishness in every part of our lives; and we'd done it together. There's a thing that Maori call your Turangawaewae- your place to stand- but where, oh where was ours? "May I have a bit of earth? To plant seeds in- to make them grow- to see them come alive," said Mary, in the Secret Garden. Tenacious little miracle seeds in our genes did indeed sprout in time and grew in to Englishness and began to manifest in intriguing ways: we realised that we really didn't like wine, but we both loved apple cider, we both came to adore Cath Kidston and spent years ordering her Modern Vintage homewares from England and filling our lives with practical goodness that made us feel deeply nourished and grounded. And then we added British Country Living magazines, ham, picnics and wanders in the countryside and finding old churches along country back roads. We both learnt to sew, to forage and to make do and mend. Only one of us learnt to cook, but the other one learnt to build. Oh, and we fell in love with old roses like Souvenir de la Malmaison and Dog roses we found in spring along roadsides.

And all the while the difficulties and divides with in our families grew worse.

My father got married a lot and caused a great deal of chaos in the process. I was never enough and never forgiven for not being in Parliament to listen to his maiden speech in 1990, and for not joining the election campaign with boundless enthusiasm, support and commitment- David was 6 months old at the time and the other two children still small. Rob, was just plain unworthy of inclusion in a family seeking success and social esteem and that has never changed.

The Reeves family story developed in to a giant religious, narcissistic, catastrophe and it makes me sick just to think of all the disaster and terrible things that have happened through the decades."Oh Catherine surely you exaggerate!"- well try this as an example: Rob's elder brother Roy (Fred) left home at 16 & went to sea, in time he married a sex worker whom he met in port at Whyalla, South Australia. Linda had an 8 year old son Dallas, who was a troubled handful at the time of the meeting. Soon after the marriage Linda's German father died of a sudden heart attack at 54, soon after that, her mother walked in to a river and drowned herself. Linda suffered persistent health issues including cancer and morbid obesity throughout her life- she died in her late 50s, having already lost her son to a drug and alcohol overdose when he was 23. Roy worked for a shipping company his whole life and saved a million dollars to retire on but just as he gave up his life at sea he developed melanoma and suffered a collapse while in New Zealand while being actively "saved", yet again, by his doting mother. Four days later, at the age of 64, he was dead.

Let me tell you now- love does not heal all things!

Rob's mother hated me from the moment that I arrived on that first visit to Sunray Avenue- I was 18. I never imagined that I would spend my adult life with a vicious, destructive nemesis, but I have. It wasn't until my sister-in-law told me that they had all been "taught to hate me" that I knew it was for real. Being a Scapegoat is no picnic. And somehow Felicia's scriptures of superiority and her relentless prayers wove a web of evil, deception and betrayal. Add pathological lying in to the mix and you've got a truly sinister and destructive malevolence going on. And of course, there's always money mixed in to the brew. At age 94.5 she continues in her mission- all for Jesus, while swearing she will never give Rob her cell phone number and simultaneously complaining that he is ignoring her.

So you could understand that all this has left us feeling pretty worn out and disgusted.

The week before our anniversary we discovered that our daughter had acquired a Phd, which would have been amazing, had she wanted to tell us. It so wasn't what we anticipated life would turn out like for our family way back when I was breast feeding our babies & loving them in to life. We never, ever imagined that one day we would lose our children to this evil vortex too.

So what remains: an indefatigable, unquenchable love and a story that matters.

When we moved to Hawke's Bay we knew that we wanted to live in Hastings, but we didn't entirely know why. We bought a house in Nelson street with the intention of creating a family home and establishing stability in our lives as best we could, but our children were never happy here. It's been 35 years and not one year has been peaceful and "good", the weird stuff has never let up- not day or night.

As I wrote on facebook recently "Yet here we are- we’ve stuck it out these 45 years & loved each other through unbelievable opposition, relational persecution & shame.

"We have finally emerged in to a place of simply being our true selves & done (doing every day) the work to heal & resolve our own traumas & issues despite the bullshit; just as we have also made & held space for each other & practised the art of unlearning the destructive patterns so that we might transform chaos in to peace. There’s been a lot of forgiving & letting go too. I’m sure you can imagine.

As we have planted a garden & connected to the land around us & cultivated curiosity & kindness & goodness in our world, we have also found the medicine we needed to heal our lives.

We have created our own Turangawaewae; our place to stand.

It’s a unique, sacred & beautiful place.

And we are so incredibly grateful to have found such enduring love, friendship & loyalty after all."

So looking ahead to our anniversary I came across The Gospel Hall on Airbnb and since we'd never been out to Kereru we decided to go and stay at the beginning of December.

It's so easy to forget just how big Hawke's Bay is- so much land! We weren't entirely sure what we would find to do out there, but we needn't have worried- as always all we had to do was to show up; be present.

Kereru is about an hour from home but since the cyclone caused a lot of damage in the gorge and that still isn't repaired, we had to take the alternative route out through Bridge Pa

down Salisbury road. Well it was only a few minutes along and already the land came to meet us. Stop!! I cried (yet again) St John's Wort!! Hypericum perforatum, the Sunshine Herb, the one that appears around the summer solstice and is one of our most beloved and reliable, yet elusive herbal allies, glowed at me from the roadside.

The yellow of St John's Wort really is like sunshine.

And you know- that was it. We never saw another plant of SJW on our journey.

From here we were gradually climbing towards the Ruahine ranges.

So interesting that even a short gain in altitude can alter the seasonal timetable. The Elders in town were just finishing flowering when we left.

There's not a great deal of Elderflower around Hawke's Bay either and certainly not much growing wild so it was lovely to find this tree.

The open spaces and vistas of each area are always unique, often in the subtlest of ways.

From here the flowering Manuka began.

A lot of windy gravel road to get there but so interesting along the way.

Having bought this 4 acre property only 3/4 years ago Denise and Rick had a sudden inspiration to move the old Open Brethren Gospel Hall from St Aubyn street in town, all the way out to Kereru.

Perfect, a crucifix orchid!

And they have done a grand job of creating a unique and special space.

A well filled space too!

With rather a lot of seats to choose from. Lovely to have the Kent fire in case it gets chilly.

I found a fascinating cake recipe over at Gather Victoria made with dried fruits soaked in brandy, polenta, ground almonds and chopped apple. Although it's a traditional European cake created with winter in mind, it also makes a perfect celebration cake for our summer- or a wedding anniversary!

It has an unusual texture and is really quite delicious. I love that it is made with Polenta and ground almonds, rather than just wheat flour.

Early December is a grand time to pick flowers from our garden for a celebration and adding our own tablecloths helped to lighten the space. We visited the Linden trees in Frimley park as we left town, found St John's Wort and Red Clover on the way.

Glowing.

In the early 1930s my Nan spent a year in England receiving medical treatment, in that time she embroidered this gorgeous tablecloth. What a treasure it is.

Just out the gate there's a road...

Both sides were lined with Red Clover in abundance.

And paddocks full of Nodding Thistles.

We met a friendly farm hand as we set off up the road and he said we'd get to the river if we kept walking. So we did...

The days were moody and heavy and vibrant. All around us there was open space and verdant pasture.

The Manuka flowers are so pretty

and lovely infused in olive oil for making balms.

Oh look- a truly spontaneous and authentic wild flower mound.

This delicate little Silene gallica comes in several colours and is also known as Catchfly.

It was so interesting to see the substrata opened up by the cyclone back in February, revealing the reddish earth again- much like we found up Tutira way. At home our garden soil is simply dirt colour.

And back "home" we went to sit in the Gospel Hall foyer to drink cider in celebration of our enduring love.

The entrance door is unusually wide- as you might expect.

Another of our antique linen tablecloths set the scene nicely.

What an extraordinary feat- carting a whole church building safely out to the country!

We even managed a little evening sunshine,

These magazines are such a wonderful resource for us, often prompting a read-a-loud episode and inspiring intelligent conversation.

And we're forever learning things and discovering places we never knew about before. Quite a contrast the old churches of England versus the churches we have in New Zealand.

The following day we headed down the road and spotted a Mountain tree daisy along the way.

They are a native plant and so pretty scattered along the hillsides.

You can look & look online or at maps before you visit somewhere new but you really have no idea what the lie of the land is actually like until you get there. Kereru is amazing - lots of gorges and rivers set against the counterpoint of wide open spaces.

And there are Rimu trees- most unusual to see them in Hawke's Bay.

Beautiful trees indeed.

I love the colour and grace of Rimu (native).

Here's the Ruahine range in the background. Back in August they were still covered in snow! We decided to follow Mangleton road and see where it took us.

What an astonishing sight to see a paddockful of deer- breed for their velvet.

A lot of creeping buttercup in the pasture after all the rain.

Our destination was Sentry Box hut. There are some good walks in the forest park here and various huts that you can stay in- that's if you feel like hiking for hours and hours.

And this is it- a bit of a walk in from here and there's your hut, or not since the paddock really was full of very large bulls! We decided to pick up two sacks of pine cones instead and a bag or two of pine needle and 'cowsh' litter that we thought our blueberries might appreciate back home.

It's so heartening to spot Kotare (Kingfisher) everywhere we go around Hawke's Bay.

And every now and then we come across plants we've never met before. This one has been identified as a native Sencio rufiglandulosus (Puhaureroa)

We noticed that there'd been lots of earth moving activity down this steep road and wondered if there'd been a holiday camp down by the river at one time.

Since there was no gate or any signs saying that we should keep out, and we were intrigued to know what was going on here, we parked up the top and wandered on down.

Most of the Totara trees still standing.

Such an amazing space, where the river has clearly flowed right on through during the cyclone.

But unlike the Esk Valley, Puketapu, Puketitiri and the Dartmoor valley (& so much more) this land appears to still be in tact- with a little help from some grunty machinery.

These sedimentary layers make me think of a sliced mushroom- most especially the Birch Boletes we get on our lawn.

The water was just beautiful. There were various fishermen along the river, some doing well with their catch.

And the man in the moon was watching over this spot.

Then, we were just climbing up the steep bank when next minute a big grunty machine came down the driveway. Up we popped thinking shit are we in trouble & smiling at the nice man. Kent was a super good sort & stopped to chat & tell us he was thinking of leasing the spot for a campground (indeed) & he didn't shoot us for trespassing after all. Next minute another car came down the track & we asked if it was his partner- nah don't know who that is & out popped Spencer who was also looking to have a shifty at the river. Apparently he'd farmed for 17 years out there- first house on the right after the bridge. Well now we had a right party going on in the middle of nowhere didn't we. Then Kent got to showing us the scars from his time in the burns unit where he met his father-in-law (who had worse burns by 2 %) & on & on it went. What a hoot. And that's when I thought- our friend Deb would bloody love this!

Tui is a rescue dog and such a honey.

Fresh eggs were a lovely treat to find in the kitchen. Denise put them there, not the chickens themselves!

After hearing a little about the 'Two Sisters' from Denise, I started skimming through the book Kereru Station: Two Sister's Leagacy. I say skim as there wasn't enough time to read the whole thing in two days. At first the story was merely interesting, but then quite suddenly the tale sprang to life and ran away on us. I am still trying to catch my breath as we begin to grasp the legacy that the Williams and Nelson families have left us here in our province and how that has impacted us personally living in Nelson street in Hastings in 2023!.

Little did we know that in making simple plans of celebration this weekend we would arrive at a crossroads of understanding concerning our own heritage trail. A trail, a pathway because really- heritage is a journey and a mystery and sometimes even a destiny.

I don't think you can rightfully make the choice when you're young, but there comes a time when you can justify choosing to graft yourself in to a Tree of Life and cut the diseased parts of the root stock away; and then grow on- resilient and fruitful.

Interestingly the historical air seems clear out here- there are no Maori claims, wars or land traumas and you can feel it. At first I was entirely confused as it seems that a large proportion of early English immigrants to Hawke's Bay had the name William, Williams or Nelson attached to them and/or married one. I should also mention that much of what they did when they got here, their travel, land purchases and house building was financed through family legacy. William Williams didn't just swan around on a pittance being a missionary & preaching to the poor- he came with money, as it was his son James Nelson Williams that he sent off to Hawke's Bay to try his hand at farming in 1857 and so the 7034 acres of Kereru Station was purchased from the Crown and bank rolled by dad. Fortunately James made a good go of things and soon enough the loan was paid off and the farm sold on.

My friend Robyn is a genealogist and very kindly found this chart for me which shows you why it's all so confusing- all that muddle of William and Nelson! However- at the bottom are Winifred and Frank and they had two daughters in 1894 & 1897 respectively, who were born at home in Eversley in Hastings. Those two girls were Ruth and Gwen- the two sisters of the legacy.

After the war the two sisters decided to buy back Kereru station that their grandfather had once owned. Imagine these roads in the 1800s, in 1946 and 4 years ago getting that Gospel Hall over this very bridge, intact!

And then on up this road.

But no matter which century you're travelling these roads you know exactly why you're doing it- because it's a special place.

I adored seeing the banks covered in Ox-eye daisy. I kept having little flashes of Heidi, her grandfather and all the mountain flowers and the joy.

The Knowledge Bank

"Miss Edna Burbury and Miss Ruth Nelson had been inspired by Rudolf Steiner’s educational writings, and by what they had seen on a visit to the Waldorf School in Stuttgart. They determined that New Zealand children should have the benefit of a Waldorf education. However, it was not until 1950 that the opportunity arose to establish a private primary school in Hastings.

In 1949 Miss Erica Hoby, who had been the Head Mistress of ‘Queenswood’, decided to sell the school and retire. Miss Burbury and Miss Nelson saw this as an opportunity to be grasped. At the time it was not possible to establish an alternative education system in New Zealand, although it was possible (upon approval) to alter the curriculum.

Queenswood school- Nelson street Hastings.

The Knowledge Bank.

By this time there was a well-established group of anthroposophists in Havelock North and members were supportive of the idea of taking on ‘Queenswood’ for the future, and with generous gifts by Ruth Nelson, Edna Burbury and others, the money was raised for its purchase." credit Taikura school

Edna Burbury was Ruth's "companion"- they spent the rest of their lives together.

And there is so much more of their story to tell.

Heading home from our few days away we became more and more enchanted with this place.

We managed to find our way down here..

I was actually trying to capture a red lady bird on the lucerne stem, but evidently the camera liked my husband better.

We discovered a wide open space just off the road to Big Hill Station that we'd love to go back to.

Viper's Bugloss- Echium vulgare.

Parentucellia viscosa, Tarweed

Rosa canina- Dog rose

It began to rain as we headed home but we couldn't wait to get to the Foxglove patch we'd seen along the edge of a pine forest. The enchantment of Foxglove flowers never wains nor grows old.

It was this same delight that I first encountered when David was little and I was in my early 30s and we wandered down the road to the Steiner school fete. I have been every year (almost) since and I always take my camera to capture the childlike wonder and the magic.

So when I realised that Gwen, Ruth and Edna all sort to bring this childhood magic to New Zealand children,

I began to sense an astonishing thread that was weaving us 'home', back to Nelson street.

All these years we have been grateful that the Steiner community resides in our street.

Ruth Nelson's Kereru Station trust continues to support the "Taikura" Steiner school to this day.

And we live just down the road in a house surrounded by a magical garden and utter enchantment- well except for bloody Watties! Even yesterday afternoon I had wandered down the road to pick some of the Queen Anne's lace flowers I had sown in the empty section and take a photo of Eversley (the place I thought Ruth & Gwen had been born) and when I got back I found a "Lola" & wee boy on our porch helping themselves to avocados and leaving their money under the mat. I returned the $5 and gave them more, Then we wandered all around the garden together in wonder. Will's (just down the road), mum will have some fun memories to take back to Waiheke with her.

I think perhaps our Turangawaewae is spontaneously colouring itself in! Our threads are unique- made of childlike English innocence and a sweet mix of Rongoā mātauranga- Maori knowledge of health and medicine, well-being, connection and presence.

I am so glad that we stayed long enough in this house to understand. This house built by Pat Murtagh's grandfather and sold to us by Dave Paku that sits on Nelson street- and up round the bend seamlessly becomes Williams street.