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Photo by Geoff Walker

Dear Readers,

I can hardly believe it, but I’m having to backtrack on a bold declaration made in a previous column. Early this year I declared full of certainty that while Jas the puppy could bark and jump and beg, she would never, ever make me play. I backed up this emphatic statement by saying that I’m 13 years old, which puts me in my 70s in dog years, well past the time of playing just for fun.

Obviously I jump up and down with excitement when it’s food time, when my boss gets home, when my boss takes me for a walk or when I find her in the garden. But these situations don’t qualify as playing.

Playing is what Jas the puppy does. It involves jumping, spinning and dancing for no reason whatsoever. Why, I used to wonder, does Jas think dropping into what you humans call the ‘soliciting play’ position will make me play? Just in case you’re not clear, soliciting play when done by dogs involves poking the front legs forward, dropping the chest on the ground (which happens when the front legs are thrust forward) and poking one’s backside in the air

This ingratiating position also involves vigorous tail wagging, although this barely rates a mention as vigorous tail wagging is automatic for dogs when we’re pleased. On the odd occasion I’ve felt pleased and have tried not to wag my tail, it’s been an epic fail. That tail of mine has a mind of its own.

Anyway, on the fated day when I played for no reason whatsoever, I’d followed my boss Rae into the paddock when she went to give the horse a snack. Already, I was acting strangely because I often only follow her part way to the horse.

You can’t kid me that this counts as a walk. A walk is when she devotes her attention to me and I follow her. Walks are mostly along the beach and moving bulls. They used to include paddocks, but I’m now suspicious when she goes into the big paddock by the house because she might just be going to visit or catch the horse. Last week, I was suspicious as usual, then I realised my boss was off to gather mushrooms. I had to run to catch up.

Anyway, on this day she’d fed the horse and was walking home when this unearthly desire to play overcame me. It was as if I’d been taken over by the character of Jas the puppy who was standing nearby. I jumped, I lunged, I spun around and I dropped into that ingratiating solicit play position and begged my boss to play. She grinned and I thought she was going to laugh at me but she jumped and frisked and lunged and ruffled by furry neck and together we played in the paddock. Golly, it was fun.

For once Jas didn’t play at all. This silly and thrilling moment was just for me and my boss. Then the feeling passed and even though my boss patted me on the head and told me she loved me, it hasn’t happened since.

It was, I’ve decided, a moment that may never be repeated. Note my use of the word ‘may’. Once I’d have said never but now I’ve learned never to say never. Oh, perhaps I’ll amend that because I know myself too well – I’ve learned almost never to say never.

Your friend, Floss.

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Special notebook – made with love and Batley House skirting board

It was surely a world first. A bloke who contacted me to buy a copy of my book asked for a hunk of the house as well.

“Sure,” I replied. “I’ll see what I can find.” Dave suggested weather board, but a scavenge in the wood heap in the back paddock turned up something I thought would be even better. As I inspected the piece of skirting from the bathroom, back when it was white and that old-fashioned pale green, I wished for the creativity to do something clever with it. A small hole added to its rustic charm. The farmer says it accommodated a water pipe.

I posted it with a copy of ‘Love at the End of the Road’ and, soon afterwards, Dave reported that the gift had been a success. He knew this because when Vicky received my book and the notebook he’d made using the wood as a cover, she was overcome with emotion. The reason for her tears – Vicky lived here in the 1960s and 70s when children from families in strife stayed at Batley House which had started its life a century earlier as a home, boarding house and store.

A few weeks later, Dave, Vicky and her sister Michele visited. Twice they’d been to Batley, but had been hesitant about returning to their former home. This time, here they were in our living room remembering not just what the house had been like back then, but what their lives had been like.

When they arrived in 1967, Vicky had a special honour. Lance and Olive Field, who had foster children and cared for children from troubled homes during school holidays, drew the line at babies – except for Vicky. She and her four siblings were wards of the state. Their father was in prison and their mother wasn’t coping. Of course, they had to be together.

“We loved it here,” said Michele as they remembered being called to meals by a bell and siren, the massive vegetable garden and the loving care and guidance provided by Lance and Olive. There had been excitement chasing possums in the night, and thrills sliding down the bank in front of the house on a wet plastic sheet. One boy, going rather too fast, flew high and landed on the road. The children loved to swim. One day Lance had screamed, “Get out of the water.” The kids, not used to hearing his voice raised, obeyed – and just as well. A five-metre shark cruised along nearby.

Lance and Olive showed the children nothing but kindness. The only time he got angry was when he put a stop to the mischievous kids’ attempt to dig up the grave on the hill behind the house.

“We thought it was a Maori princess,” recalls Michele. It’s the grave of Grace Masefield, a daughter of the first settlers who died in 1874.

Batley House was the only place the five children stayed together. In other homes, Vicky, Michele, their two sisters and brother were separated and sometimes endured harsh conditions.

“We felt privileged to come here,” they said. “We didn’t have a home. When we thought of a home, this is where we’d think of.”

And now, almost half a century later, Vicky’s notebook is a permanent reminder of the place she and her siblings call home, the place where they were cared for and loved.

Love at the End of the Road is now an ebook: /Rae-Roadley/e/B013Q6NKWY

Continue reading »]]> Valentine’s Day is a big deal for me. I especially loved my Feb 14 celebratory champers after my first visit to Batley when Rex presented me with a hibiscus. Charmer that he is, he’s continued the tradition to this day.

Valentine’s Day 2012 was also a biggie – I sent a “Yay, you’ve done it!” email to my writer friend Jenn J McLeod who’d just had this to say:

“Yep! I have accepted an offer from Simon & Schuster (Australia) for the first two novels in my Seasons Collection.

I jotted down the names of the people/novels that have inspired me along the way. You are on that list so I wanted you to be amongst the first to share my excitement.”

Jenn’s novel House for all Seasons (number five on Neilsen’s debut novel bestseller list for 2013) has had many happy readers hanging out for the next book in the series – Simmering Season due out April 1.

Here’s the blurb: Back in Calingarry Crossing to sell the family pub, Maggie Lindeman has no idea a perfect storm is heading her way until her past and present collide with the unexpected.

Maggie once had a crush on Dan Ireland, now a work-weary police crash investigator, still hell-bent on punishing himself for his misspent youth. Dan has ample reason for not going home to Calingarry Crossing for the school reunion, but one very good reason why he should.

Maggie is dealing with a restless seventeen-year-old son, a father with dementia, a fame-obsessed musician husband, a dwindling bank account and a country pub that just won’t sell.

The last thing she needs is a surprise houseguest for the summer. Fiona Bailey-Blair, daughter of an old friend and spoilt with everything but the truth, whips up a maelstrom of gossip when she blows into town.

This storm season, when a school reunion brings home more than memories, Maggie Lindeman will discover  …  there’s no keeping a lid on some secrets.

And here’s Jenn to tell us her story:

Hi Jenn, first question, okay, questions: When did you start writing and when did you first dream of having a novel published?

I tend to restrict my ‘real writing’ tenure to the years following 2008, which is when I took a more business-like approach: applying myself, learning my craft and setting goals, etc

Did I always want to become an author? No! I wanted to be a singer/actress. As it turns out, my writing process satisfies the latent drama queen in me. I am a ‘method writer’. (I become my character and act out scenes and dialogue when I write. Quite hilarious to watch, so I am told.) I knew from a young age I had stories I wanted to tell. What I didn’t know was now hard getting published would be, or what it involved, or that people (friends and family) would not really understand the pull or dedication required. Had I know how stressful and isolating, I may never have tried. I guess ignorance was bliss.

Rae, can I just clarify something you said above? You didn’t just ‘inspire’ me. Your patience and generosity all those times I sent my “best efforts” for you to critique meant so much to me. Remember when I couldn’t grasp past tense? Then you threw past perfect into the mix and my head exploded! But you made me want to learn and be a better writer. I will love you forever, for that.

Wow! Thanks for the kind words. Umm . . . what’s past perfect tense?

Can you tell us a little about your life? Here’s a hint to get you started:  “Woof woof.”

Yes, I am an old dog, Rae. Thanks for pointing that out!

Oh, you mean my B&B, purpose-built for people traveling with their dogs? You know I am a dedicated dog person and a Floss fan (of the dog – not the dental – variety). Creating canine characters for my novels happens to be a bonus to this writing gig. Jackpot the Jack Russell from House for all Seasons even makes a cameo in Simmering Season, along with his mate, Achilles (who, btw, does not heel!)

But, yes, when not writing I am making B&B beds and mopping furry floors. Very glamorous, this writing life.

In case you’re wondering – Floss is my dog, a long-haired border collie.

Jenn, you write books, are busy on social media, have an amazing blog, contribute to other writers and speak at conferences – do you have more hours in the day than the rest of us – or what?

I wish! What I miss is reading time. I was once told “to be a good writer, one must be a good reader”. Too true – then and still. But, just as important these days is connecting with readers and the internet makes it possible and easy. Even though it can be time-consuming, publishers expect their authors to be online and actively engaging with readers. (Another steep learning curve for an old dog who, not too long ago, thought a chat room was a sleazy online pick-up joint.) I guess you can teach an old dog new tricks – woof!

Online, I strive to be like the authors I enjoy following – bloggers who (like you, Rae – and Floss!) evoke discussion,make me think  and most importantly, make me smile. I love blogging because I get to support other authors. I once heard someone say, “No author ever hurt their career by being generous to another author”. I live by that.

House for all Seasons has a cast of fabulous characters – and, boy, do you put them through the hoops. What inspired this novel – and Simmering Season?

House for all Seasons started with the simple premise of four parts with four characters – each one as different as the seasons. The original storyline had a male character (the vet).

The seasons inspire all my stories. What better analogy than the seasons for a story about growth and change? I love the contrast, and contrast makes for great characters and conflict. And I do bring plenty of conflict to Simmering Season’s poor Maggie.

A sweltering small town during storm season,

A school reunion that brings home more than memories,

And an unexpected houseguest who’ll blow the lid off a lifetime of secrets for local publican—Maggie Lindeman.

What’s coming next – is there a third book in the series? And what about after that?

Simon & Schuster have now contracted four novels, so my dream of having a ‘Seasons Collection’ will come true in 2016 when Book 4 comes out.

April 2015 will see Book 3 (Season of Shadow & Light) released, but there are two chapters in the back of Simmering Season to give readers a taste. I am moving away from Calingarry Crossing (the setting for books 1 and 2) to a new town with a different cast of quirky and colourful characters for me to traumatise.

Let’s finish on a high note – tell us a highlight or two in your life as a published author.

1. Emails from readers. Nothing better than a personal note from a reader to say my story touched them in some way.
2. The surreal sense of celebrity that only comes from living in a small town, when strangers come up to you in the supermarket and say, “You’re that author! I loved your book.”

How can readers get your book – will it be on New Zealand bookshelves – and when?

April 1 is the official release date for Aust/NZ.

Simmering Season will be available in print in bookshops, from e-tailers and in e-book.  I already have some lovely NZ readers who connect with me via Facebook and Twitter. Will be venturing into Pinterest and Google+ this year too.

There is no stopping this old dog!

Woof right back atchya, Rae and Flossy!

Connect

Facebook:        www.facebook.com/JennJMcLeod.Books

Twitter:            @jennjmcleod

Website:          www.jennjmcleod.com (where people can follow my blog or sign up for my ‘Odd and Newsy Newsletter’ – irregular book news and giveaways.)

You can read a sample chapter of Simmering Season here – and view the book trailer

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Floss, a vet’s dream (broken leg, infected foot, devoured a chocolate cake, spayed) being smooched by Cheetah, a budget cat so far, neutered with a quick snip – fingers crossed he’ll keep well and safe.

If you surrendered to a loved one who wanted a pet for Christmas it’s not too late to supplement your gift. Yep – I’m talking money. When animals break or get sick they need to be repaired unlike other gifts which can be returned or trashed.

Animals are for life – or that’s the idea – although I do know of two dogs and a cat that went to new homes when their owners couldn’t cope.

Over the years, some of our pets have notched up big veterinary bills.

Lilac had hyperthyroidism (she went to heaven in May). The symptoms were odd – she stopped hissing at the dogs, was no longer hostile to the cats. When picked up, she’d unfailingly slump, purring, on anyone’s shoulder. She’d always thrown up hair balls, but not food, and her fur seemed sticky, like she’d been in paspalum.

The clever vet’s guess was confirmed by a blood test.  Lilac gobbled tablets for the rest of her days – we chose not to shell out $600 for radiation treatment  – but regular blood tests meant regular outgoings.

Tara the cat’s decaying teeth made her breath smell like a Chernobyl drain – until a vet did dental work. Dot the cat is allergic to fleas – and perhaps something else, still undefined – while miniscule mites gnaw Floss’s skin (dogs are even more costly than cats) unless I use a special flea and mite killer.

The ills of the farmer’s dog Mo (now deceased) sent her to four-figure vet bill class. She had a growth removed from a mammary gland and snapped something in her leg that required surgery. Kate still suffers occasional pain following a hip op after she got run over, while Floss got skittled as a puppy, had an infected foot and scoffed too much chocolate cake. Chocolate can kill dogs, and the cocoa in cakes delivers a vicious punch. The loss of the cake paled in comparison to the cost of the Sunday treatment to make Floss puke.

So if you gave a pet for Christmas perhaps you could add a savings account. And if you got given an animal, it might be wise to drop hints about its running costs.

Happy 2014 and a big, warm thank you for reading my blog.

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This brown scum that thrives in our wet winters is called Nostoc Commune

Anticipating cultured conversation after a local theatre performance, we retired to the bar for a night cap. But as this is a rural area, talk was all about an entirely different type of culture – a strange gooey, gunky and shiny brown growth.

I’d first spotted it while being a marshal for the Rally of New Zealand. After poking it with the toe of my boot, I decided it resembled seaweed or pond scum – except it was flourishing in roadside gravel. A while later, there it was again – gleaming (in a rare spot of sunshine) on our drive.

That night after the play, I was in the company of many seasoned farmers – who had all spotted its recent arrival, but knew nothing about it.

“I’ll do the research,” I said, “and let you know.”

Northland Regional Council’s biodiversity specialist double-checked with NIWA’s algal experts who confirmed it’s Nostoc commune, commonly called Blue Green Algae.

A mind-dizzying visit to Wikipedia and thereabouts taught me it’s a type of cyanobacterium (blue bacteria) which can live in salt and fresh water, soil and, as we know for a fact, bare rock.

As well as finding out spirulina belongs to the extended family and that there are countless types with long and scientific names, I also know this: “They are Gram positive prokaryotes. They are photosynthetic and have pigments like chlorophyll a, carotenoids, along with phycobilins. They have autotrophic mode of nutrition.” And on and on. Knew you’d be fascinated.

The Nostoc thriving in Kaipara may be the strain known as fallen star or star jelly. It can fix nitrogen, reclaim soil and is so hardy that, after lying dormant for ages, it grows again when exposed to water.

You can, apparently, kill it with various things: salt, vinegar, copper sulphate, dairy alkali cleaner XY12 (full strength or one part to two of water) or possibly glyphosate or algae killer.

As some strains of cyanobacteria are highly toxic, I’d recommend you do more research before you use Nostoc as a food supplement which is what they do in China.

Several people have since told me they reckon it grows where glyphosate (better known by the brand name Roundup) has been sprayed. More research is underway. Stay tuned.