I no longer write not so often. Actually when I was young i used...

I no longer write not so often. Actually when I was young i used to write songs. the words were fine the music most probably not. I do have a book about my garden that I started which included a story about my great grandfather. here's a bit of it

It’s hard to distinguish the cause of this garden madness but I suspect that my childhood has something to do with it. There was the weight of my great grandfather’s legacy. A botanist in New Zealand during the latter part of the 19^th century and early twentieth century, we grew up with legends of his exploits and love of plants. These legends were always painted, as legends are, in a romantic light. Thomas met his wife as her piano tutor. I am not even sure whether that was true but it’s the story I remember and I like it. I used to imagine a house filled with music in an era when Auckland was shaping itself and its early residents were creating their version of a genteel life.

though he was much older than her they fell in love and married. Gentile marrying Jew in the early days of New Zealand he robbed the Jewish community of an eligible and attractive young woman. Maybe ever the botanist he chose her because of her name – Rose. He had found his flower and so began multiple generations of gardens and gardeners.

Their honeymoon was taken on the government ship “Hinemoa” as it searched for ship-wrecked sailors at the Three Kings Islands. We were treated to stories of Rose landing on South West Island, with its steep high cliffs and surging seas. We were regaled with stories of the jump from the ship down to the cliff tops, and the return climb to the ship, encumbered by long petticoats and skirts. I could never quite reconcile the size of the ship and high cliffs but the romance of it allowed me to sweep away the rational questions. As a child maybe I never even noticed. I merely liked the idea of two newlyweds embarking on their lives together by doing something as exotic as this. No ordinary turn of the century Honeymoon.

I used to wonder whether Rose had been entranced by these adventures and had happily accompanied her husband on the occasional field trip or whether she had been a mere passenger in his life. I suspect, however, that she was no passenger. She looked like a strong determined woman in other photos and must have set her mind to marrying this man for she did so against the wishes of her family. In that respect she was little different from others of her generation and as a result I have the benefit of a culturally rich and diverse extended family.

Years later my great grandfather and his wife left Auckland for Rarotonga in the steamer “Ovalau” arrivingaround one week later where they collected and recorded the different species of flowering plants and ferns found in Rarotonga. A photo shows her standing on the veranda of some local dignitary with semi naked women around her - an interesting diversion for a Victorian gentlewoman.

Here was a woman who wore petticoats and carried a parasol and could look as elegant and graceful as any, but who was prepared to adventure and whose life with her much older husband was shaped by his scientific mind and desire to understand and explore. I liked that and I suspect my whole family did. There is certainly evidence of that family influence in each of us.