Balance - and reflections on deep sea oil

In the last few years I have noticed the frequent appearance of constructions on beaches here made of slender branches of drift wood, balanced carefully.  Does this happen in other parts of the world too?  The ones made of driftwood are ephemeral, easily dislodged by the wind.  A more robust version of this phenomenon appeared at Owhiro Bay recently.

Three stones piled and balanced carefully on a tree stump on the stony beach - put together by hands unknown.  A rather special little sculpture. 

I reckon it is lots of fun to try and balance things, especially when it is challenging.  But when I see these constructions I see more than playfulness.  They could be a call for balance.  And we really are facing a challenge to be balanced in the way we care for the natural environment.  Even the vast sea is under threat from our activities. 

Our government gave the green light to exploratory drilling for deep sea oil in the waters around New Zealand.  So much for vision and future focus!  The Anadarko Texan oildriller is right now heading to a site in the Tasman Sea, off the west coast of the North Island near Raglan.  The Oil Free Seas flotilla of small yachts ( http://oilfreeseasflotilla.org.nz/ ) is occupying the site and tomorrow a "Banners on the Beach for Oil Free Seas" day is being held along the coastline to support the flotilla and protest this risky and inherently damaging venture. 

It isn't just that there is a risk of an oil spill - some modelling suggests that if something goes wrong, oil could contaminate beaches along much of the North Island's west coast.  Even if it isn't a Deepwater Horizon type gusher, a slow leak could cause incredible harm.  And goodness knows how they imagine they will manage an oil spill out on the open ocean, given the trouble they had with the grounded Rena.  I think they just cross their fingers and call it risk management.  All this in order to get more fossil fuels to burn, and accelerate global warming.  So it's two ways of damaging the precious ocean. 

The banners on the beach will read "Stop Deep Sea Oil."  I think we must try to find some sanity.  Our lack of balance in how we treat the environment means the changes we fear are already afoot.  Warming and increased weather extremes are already here.

So whoever makes these constructions and whatever their motivation, thank you for the pleasure of your imagination and flair, and for reminding us about the importance of balance.  And I think we are up to the challenge.  It could be a great adventure to find balance in how we treat this good earth.

The Endeavour - a David Austin rose

David Austin is an English rose breeder who has produced roses with the wonderful combination of a loose and romantic old rose form, strong perfume and recurrent flowering typical of modern roses.  The Endeavour rose was named after the Royal Navy research vessel commanded by James Cook on a voyage from 1769 to 1771 which included exploration along New Zealand and Australian coastlines.  Although this is described as a voyage of "discovery" both were already inhabited.  Interesting. 

Rose naming is also curious - what quality led to this name for this rose?

Glistening raindrops gilding (actually they look more like little crystals to me than gold) a beautiful fully open Endeavour rose.  The rich pink glows in the morning light and the rose has a delicious fruity/spicy scent. The bush is now in its first full flush of flowers - a late spring delight.

Low tide at Island Bay beach and an oystercatcher's catch

Low tide at Island Bay and the rocks were exposed, the seaweeds on them looking gorgeous.

Then my attention was caught by another favourite of mine - one of the beach's resident variable oystercatchers (toreapango, or Haematopus unicolor).  I love their bright orange beaks and eyes and their confident busy-ness.

This one had been peep peep peeping at some gulls, as if asserting its space on the rocks, then it went off foraging.  On rocks a little way out it had its beak down in the seaweed.  Then I saw it on the sand.

Success!  An oystercatcher with an oyster.

Crunch!

And off to find more goodies. 

They eat a lot as revealed in this interview -  http://www.doc.govt.nz/conservation/native-animals/birds/interviews-about-new-zealand-birds/oystercatcher/  and of course despite their name they eat a lot of tasty morsels, not just oysters.

Oystercatchers are wading birds found in coastal regions world-wide, and the different species are very alike.  The variable oystercatcher is endemic to New Zealand - it is just found here.  Although the population has increased since it was estimated to be around 3,500 in 1994, it is still rare.  This bird is one of a pair who live on this part of the beach.  They will be nesting now.  Each year a chick is produced.  It grows up and departs but the parents stay, and we get to enjoy them.

A fishing boat returns to Taputeranga Marine Reserve (?!)

Fishing was an important factor in the development of the Island Bay community.  In the early 1900s Shetland Islanders, no strangers to rough seas and harsh weather conditions, arrived in Wellington.  Island Bay, close to the fishing grounds in the Cook Strait, was a good base for the Shetlanders who took up fishing.  Many immigrants from southern Italy had settled here too, and also fished from Island Bay.  There are a number of Island Bay fishing families - generations have been involved.  People recall how you used to be able to get fresh fish on the beach when the fishing boats returned with their catch.

So there was quite a lot of debate about establishing a marine reserve in this area and concern about the impact on the fisher people.  No fish are to be taken from the reserve.  But we still see the fishing boats come in, the seagulls wheeling above them.  How can this be?

At sunset, with the South Island (Te Waipounamu) in silhouette, a fishing boat returns past an arm of Taputeranga and some rocky outcrops into the shelter of Island Bay. 

When the Taputeranga Marine Reserve was established, provision was made for the existing moorings in Island Bay to remain.  So the fishing boats are able to travel out beyond the marine reserve boundaries, but return to the shelter of the island Taputeranga for mooring.  And the Island Bay connection to the sea is enhanced by the increasing richness of the sea life protected by the reserve.  It's all good!

A special south coast sight - Kelvin Helmholtz waves

Wellington's slogan is "Absolutely Positively Wellington."  Another commonly applied adjective is "windy."  Some days it can be hard to find anything positive about our wind, but a big advantage of living in a very windy place is the constantly changing vista of clouds and dramatic skies.  And we get to see some rare cloud formations - like these Kelvin Helmholtz waves.

Looking like large breakers in the sea these waves in the sky are named for the phenomenon - the Kelvin Helmholtz instability - which causes their formation.  As I understand it this cloud pattern arises when there is interaction at the junction of a layer of cold air below and warm air above, moving at different speeds, plus vertical wind shear and the right conditions of moisture.  They are generally short-lived and these ones were forming and breaking as I tried to get a photo. 

While these waves are not perfectly formed like some examples on the Cloud Appreciation Society website  https://cloudappreciationsociety.org/?s=kelvin+helmholtz+waves they are a rare sight, and I was delighted to catch them while coming home along the south coast.

Apple blossom - on my brave little Autento

I have learned not to get too upset by Wellington's ferocious equinoxial winds - what's the point, the wind isn't going to respond!  And I live in a very exposed spot.  We get gales (defined as an average wind speed of 62-74km/h) regularly both from the north and the south.  But this is where I am and I want to be able to grow happy plants - what to do?  The first step is to notice what actually grows in your location.  Here in Island Bay I saw apple trees that seemed to be doing quite well.  So apples were worth a try - on dwarfing stock so the plants don't get too tall and thus more exposed to wind. 

I have two modern apples - Autento (Delcoros) and Tentation (Delblush) from Delbard, a French nursery that was already of interest to me because of beautiful roses they have bred.  Like roses, modern apples are bred with disease resistance in mind - the use of pesticides and fungicides is being limited as we become more aware of the problems they cause.  And plants in my garden have to manage without being sprayed - I prefer organic practices if at all possible, and it is just being realistic about my way of doing things - I am not particularly interventionist.  Using older varieties which have proven their disease resistance over time is another way of ensuring we can have safe gardening practices, and there are really great people who have collected heritage varieties so that they are not lost to us. 

Autento has been a great success despite inauspicious beginnings - scaffolding fell on the plant breaking off branches on one side.  And the wind hasn't let up just because it had a hard start.

But spring brings blossom -

the pretty pink buds and blush flowers of Autento blossom framed by the soft fresh green new leaves -

with the promise of delicious apples - crisp and tangy, a good strong apple flavour, and they store well.

It is still a small crop from this tree, but there are many layers of pleasure from growing it.  A suprise is that it reminds me of how lucky we are to get such generous supplies of tasty apples from local growers.  I enjoy the particular flavour and quality of the Autento apples.  And  I am able to enjoy many different aspects of the life of this plant including its beauty and resilience - not least the amazing capacity of trees to heal themselves when branches are lost. 

I love my brave little tree!

A fresh crown - unfurling fronds of Blechnum discolor

Who cares about the weather if you are sheltered on the forest floor?  Blechnum discolor is a native fern found there in a number of different plant communities and locations within New Zealand.

Different Maori names are cited by different sources - kiokio, piupiu or petipeti, and it is also called the crown fern.  The pale fronds that are unfolding, fresh spring growth, are sterile.  Spore bearing fertile fronds are very dark and look spindly and shrivelled. The old ones here are not easy to see. 

This fern can be the dominant plant on the forest floor, making a rather enchanting covering of crown-shaped clumps.  At Otari Native Botanic garden where I took this photo there are several areas where they are growing in this way.  As they mature the plants can develop woody trunks up to 30 cm tall, like little tree ferns.  It may sound strange, but to me they have a perky quality, little characters holding their own amidst the big trees.

And then shine -

Relief - after the rain there is light...

A dramatic glow over Island Bay -  bright light breaking through the mist and creating a double rainbow.  The rainclouds were still so dense you couldn't see the Orongorongos across the water from Island Bay.  A tiny white dot in the sky is an airplane taking off contrasting with the dark of the clouds.  

Less than an hour later, as evening falls, a different light.

The pink of sunset colours the sea and the soft cumulus clouds.  The dark rainclouds and mist recede over the Orongorongos, now visible.  Shadows are muting the beach and hillside, but a ferry leaving Wellington is brightly lit in the much more focused and fading light.

Rain!

It's been raining...

The sparkle of raindrops on rose leaves,

and on the delicate leaves of fennel - drooping gracefully under the weight of tiny droplets lined along each leaflet.

Storm stripped Phormium leaves - muka revealed - and when is a flax a flax

Equinoxial winds continue to blow.  People can feel besieged by the weather, irritable, restless.  Tender spring growth suffers, plants are bruised and battered.  But some of the damage is curiously attractive.  The long strappy leaves of Phormium (harakeke, New Zealand flax) growing along the waterfront near Te Papa have been stripped by the pummelling of severe gales.  Long pale strands of fibre hang from the leaves like a cascade of silver.  This fibre, revealed when the fleshy part of the leaves is scraped away, is called muka in Maori.

The muka is strong and flexible.  It is the reason for Phormium being called New Zealand flax, even though the plant Linum usitatissimum which is traditionally called flax and used to make linen is very very different - it is an annual with slender stems, pretty blue flowers and little grey-green leaves, and grows about a metre high.  The strong fibres come from the stems and it is also the source of linseed oil. 

Just to complicate things, we have a native Linum too, Linum monogynum.  I have never seen Linum usitatissimum in the flesh, but the similarity is clear from the descriptions.  Our Linum is a little delicate looking thing compared to Phormium.  As far as I am aware it has not been used as a source of fibre, but confusingly, I have seen it called flax too. 

Described as a subshrub or a short-lived herbaceous perennial it grows about half a metre high.  The white flowers continue from spring to summer and it seeds a lot - I always have little seedlings popping up to replace the ageing plants.  Despite its rather fragile appearance it grows well in poor coastal conditions and can be used in sand dune restoration. 

And despite all the battering, this year along the south coast there are so many flowering spikes on the Phormium plants they are looking like a little forest.  Impressive!