Helen Lehndorf

Tag: writing

  • what’s occurring? June to October

    The Bruise Palette beside the bed in my friend Kushla’s beautiful house. I nicked this off her Insta.

    Hello!

    I am resisting the temptation to apologise/explain for the gap between updates here because I know literally no one minds.

    Instead, let’s crack in: here’s some recent book news and life stuff…

    (Technically I wrote two other books in that 15 years but I’m not gonna argue with Hamesh when he uses the word ‘radiant’ to describe my book.)

    Somehow The Bruise Palette, has been out for six months already!

    Here are the adventures it has had so far…

    Hamesh Wyatt reviewed it for the Otago Daily Times (which I think might be the last newspaper which still reviews poetry?)

    There was a review on Radio New Zealand’s Nine to Noon by Lucy Black.

    Lucy also reviewed it for her excellent bookstagram Two Books Black.

    In August, I read poems with dear friends Maria McMillan, Helen Heath and Airini Beautrais in the dear St Peter’s Village Hall in Paekakariki.

    Among the audience were some terrific poets including Dinah Hawken, Tusiata Avia, Hinemoana Baker, Rob Hack, Apirana Taylor and several other greats. I tried not to visibly quake in my plimsolls reading to such formidable talent. I coped by staring into the middle distance lest my eyes settle on another face of NZ poetry royalty. Paekakariki seems to be a hot-bed of artistic talent.

    An article about the Paekakriki reading by Dani Deluka.

    The poster I made for the reading with no help from AI.

    In September, there was an overnighter up to New Plymouth to read with Airini again and Mikaela Nyman . The reading was great fun and we attracted a writerly audience who seemed very interested in ideas around writing craft. It was an intellectually satisfying conversation…& David Hill came along!

    (An aside: For the Paekakariki reading, Airini had sprained her foot and was on crutches. For the New Plymouth reading, she was off her crutches but I had pulled a calf muscle and was limping. Poetry is a dangerous business, it would seem.)

    Another no-AI poster, this time made by Mikaela and Airini:

    If you enjoy literary podcasts, the lovely pip adam recently interviewed me on her podcast ‘better off read’.

    We talked about grief, the place poems come from, our shared love for the reality TV show ‘Alone’ (Pip calls it ‘competency porn’) and how nature is more punk than metal:

    & here’s an event still to come (and more posters made without AI) both posters for an upcoming lunchtime reading at Unity Books Wellington. Airini made the first. I made the second.

    Do come along if you are near by and free.

    Other things lately…

    A lovely gift from my parents:

    Another birthday rolled around and F and I went to the same place we went last year. Just after my birthday last year a whole lot of hard, weird shit happened so I don’t really feel like I got to experience being 53. I was in a kind of free-fall. But time doesn’t care and now I’m 54, like Andy Warhol’s studio.

    Here’s the hut from a nearby hill:

    I got book vouchers for my birthday and (above) is what I chose to spend them on. Old-me would have saved the vouchers to use for Christmas shopping for other people. New-me indulged.

    So far I have read the Hustvedt (heartbreaking, clever, she writes about what the ‘us’ in a couple is rather than she and her deceased husband as individuals, and the loss of that ‘us’) and I’ve started the Robert Lord diaries. I think I was hoping to find he might be NZ’s answer to Derek Jarman (in terms of diary-writing) and he isn’t so far…but I’m only part way in. There’s still time.

    I spent a good chunk of August’s writing time applying for three big things. Applying for big literary things takes so much time. It’s like applying for a job with extra levels of humiliation.

    I’ve already heard back that I didn’t get two of them. One to go.

    I think I made the mistake of falling for the illusion of continued success. I got a couple of things last year and so I thought, way hey! here we go!

    But no, a couple of successes doesn’t guarantee you ‘go’ anywhere. Still, each application means my CVs, etc, are all up to date & that’s a mercy.

    Speaking of literary things from last year, I published the diary from one of the residencies. It’s a bit of gloomy read because I got horribly sick that week.

    But if you are interested in creative process, the tensions of care work versus creative work, the non-linearity of time, zen philosophy, the making of something from nothing…there might be something of interest?

    (Or maybe you just need a good dose of schadenfreude? It might scratch that itch, too.)

    I think that’s all my news?

    Of course there’s been a lot happening in the garden (seed starting! getting the backyard shipshape for summer lolling around) and the kitchen, too (making ferments from the last of the winter crops, enjoying warm potato salads made with little new potatoes – except swap the green beans for new season asparagus.)

    I’ve been starting all kinds of tomatoes: yellow pear, money maker, sweet 100s, and the delightfully named ‘Olga’s Round Golden Chicken Egg’ from here.

    Yes! It’s time for tomato dreaming.

    To sign-off, three good tomato-related things I’ve enjoyed lately:

    Lucy Dacus wrote a tomato song! – truly uplifting tune and video:

    “Life is just a series of close calls.

    One day, one will come to end them all.

    But before then, I’ve got some ideas.”

    From Orion Magazine ‘The Tomato Cure’, a beautiful essay about the ‘quiet medicine of small jobs’.

    & I love a tea towel printed with a recipe – this one by Ruby Seeto is just $10 from Wallace Cotton and $6 from the sale of each tea towel is donated directly to the Starship Foundation, to benefit the young patients and families of Starship Children’s Hospital.

    It would be great for lining a picnic basket, I reckon:

    Here’s to longer days and the smell of sun-warmed tomatoes,

    x Helen

  • Making the most of 24 hours in Carterton

    (Sign in Paul Melser’s yard. It looks convincingly like a NZ street sign but Paul’s wife told me an artist friend made it for them.)

    I intended to write this last November after appearing at Wairarapa Word but a week after this event I suddenly lost my dear friend, a close family member got very ill and everything ‘normal’ was dropped.

    I thought I’d write about it now, though, because it was a delightful dash down to Carterton and I also want to publicly acknowledge Wairarapa Word for their kind invitation.

    I was very excited to be a double-bill with the inimitable force of nature that is Jo Randerson under the title:

    Jo’s latest book ‘Secret Art Powers’ is a must for any creative person. It’s full of inspiration, pep talks and courage and is a big boost to the spirits if you’re flagging. I read it before the event which made me all the more excited to be working alongside Jo.

    While Carterton is close enough to Palmerston North that we could have ‘down and back-ed’ the journey, I booked us an Air BnB for the night so we could do a few touristy things as well.

    There had been a massive storm shortly before Fraser and I drove down for the event and all the way along the road were giant wind-blown trees, their massive roots in the air. There were many farm workers out, chainsawing the felled trees, there were many post-storm burn-ups happening. It gave the trip quite a spooky feeling.

    I love studio pottery and it is what we mostly use as dinnerware in the kitchen so we always stop in at Paul Melser Pottery just south of Masterton if the studio is open.

    I love his studio shop with it’s glass walls. Peace washes over me there.

    I forgot to take a picture of our purchases -we got a wonky cup and a bowl- but here’s a glimpse of Paul’s shop. It’s a little off the beaten track but definitely worth the trip:

    Once we arrived at Carterton, we popped into Aunt Ginger’s Cafe which a Wairarapa friend recommended. It’s a very good spot. Hearty, flavourful food and a great vibe with vintage kitchen ephemera providing a feast for the eyes:

    (Above: cute details from Aunt Ginger’s Cafe in Carterton.)

    Apparently Carterton has a long association with daffodils and has an annual daffodil festival. This pretty street art reflects that.

    I was starting to get the impression that everything Carterton is sweet and characterful and the little Air BnB carried on that impression. It was a dear tiny cottage and a fun place to lay our heads for the night.

    The next morning we looked up somewhere to get a dose of forest and found a nearby reserve which has a short loop track which we took slowly, sitting along the way to enjoy the manifold native birds.

    Below: l love the font on the (1980s?) sign for the reserve:

    Thank you, John Fensham, for your thoughtful gift to nature lovers.

    Above: My travel companion having a sit amongst the trees.

    After our bush wander, it was time to lunch and then Wairarapa Word.

    Meeting Jo was wonderful and we soon realised we had a similar energy and way of spontaneous riffing. We fed on one another’s rebel spirits and the talk ended up being feisty, energetic call-to-action. Wairarapa Word director Madeleine Slavick must have spotted something simpatico in Jo and I. Afterwards, I felt it had been a good pairing.

    Above: Afterwards, Madeleine took this photograph for us. How lovely, hey?

    Here’s a photo of Jo and I with Madeleine and some of the lovely audience members.

    (Above: front left is Jo, then me in the green pants, then local legend, Helen Dew (more on her later) and Madeleine is behind Helen Dew wearing black.)

    Afterwards, Wairarapa Word took Jo and I out for Turkish food before we headed home. Sitting next to me was a wonderfully opinionated and eccentric man with a long white beard. I had a feeling from the way he conducted himself he must be some kind of artist and as our conversation carried on it transpired he was Burton Silver! aka, a very fun dinner companion.

    Madeleine has written a fantastic book about her hometown of Carterton featuring short snapshot like stories and her beautiful photography. It’s a sardonic, moving and insightful book which really captures small town New Zealand life.

    I came away with a warm impression of Carterton and it’s residents. It also reinforced my firm belief that you don’t have to travel far to have an adventure.

    Big belated thank you to Madeleine and the Wairarapa Word committee, to Almo’s Books for selling books at the event, and to Jo Randerson for a heartfelt and incendiary riffing!

  • A book launch is a celebration, a blessing, a kind of jettison…

    (Here she is in her vivid purple and orange glory.)

    Writing books is largely a solitary endeavour.

    As writers we plug away alone, wrangling over words and hoping that we’ll end up with something publishable. This is why book launches can be so emotional for the writer – that small printed artefact represents so much labour, hoping, dreaming, imagining, and work, work, work. & Usually it is work that no one is asking for, no one is cheerleading, no one is paying for…it is a strange, intense relationship between the writer and the page which demands commitment, self-belief and no small measure of grit. As such, it is important to celebrate the effort and acknowledge that all that labour has turned into a physical artefact separate from the writer and is about to go off and have its own adventures in the world. It is also a kind of jettison…in that the project needs to be released from the writer’s mind so that space can be cleared for new projects.

    My local community really bought the support last Friday. The Bruise Palette is all launched and she and I are feeling very loved up.

    If you’re interested in strange NZ poetry, you can buy a copy here.

    My dear friend Carly Thomas was a warm and funny MC for proceedings. I gave a speech and read some poems and I managed not to cry during my speech this time…unlike during the A Forager’s Life launch when I lost it and cried so hard I had to get partner Fraser to come up and help me sputter out the rest.

    (Me and Carly on the night.)

    I did start to weep, however, when my beloved friend Abi Symes Button played their song ‘Human Lungs’ for us; a special acoustic version.

    Here’s the recorded version:

    (Me and Abi – before all the tears.)

    Then I had my first sighting of the book in a bookshop! The Bruce McKenzie Books window display. Long live our independent booksellers who so warmly support local authors. When the major bookselling chains barely stock any NZ writing (boo!)…the support from indie bookshops means so very much to NZ writers. The staff at Bruce McKenzie have been a huge support to us with this project; they took care of pre-sales for us and made everything so easy.

    The first time I spot my books in a bookshop window is always such a thrill.

    Working with a small press on this book has been enormous, collaborative fun.

    A little favour:

    If you read The Bruise Palette and use Goodreads or Storygraph, please consider rating/reviewing it over there. It really helps get the book more exposure.

    TBP on Goodreads

    TBP on Storygraph

    x x x

    Publisher and designer Anthony Behrens and I looking like proud book parents. Publisher Toni Edmeades couldn’t make the launch. We missed you, Toni!

    Bouquets : garden beauty from Carly and purple mini-cabbages from Cheleigh.

    The next day, I felt a kind of happy, bone-deep tiredness…as if I’d run a marathon…because I (kind of) had.

    We finished a full and lovely launch weekend with a full moon burn in the backyard:

    Now, I’m busy drumming up a few events around the north island through the year. More on those as they get confirmed.

    Books are group projects and I am very lucky to have some special, caring, clever people around me. Thanks so much to everyone who has supported me either during the making of this book or since the publication.

    Much love. x

  • Return after rupture + some news

    I haven’t updated here in a long while because

    *deep breath*

    last spring, within weeks of each other, I found out a close family member had cancer and was facing a daunting treatment regime and then my oldest and most beloved friend died very suddenly. If that wasn’t hard enough, he left me all of his possessions so I had to fly to Auckland to organise, sort and pack up his house.

    It has been a very difficult time.

    I decided I would take a break from updating here for the rest of last year, then that turned into the summer, then I thought maybe I’ll do an update at Easter...and now it’s mid-May.

    Thanks to a wee bit of time, various healing modalities, some therapy and a lot of crying…I am just now beginning to feel a little less sad and overwhelmed and ready to be world-facing again.

    Life is complicated and hard and raw and intense and beautiful.

    So…Hello! It feels nice to be here saying hi again.

    If you have any ‘grief’ media to reccomend, please do so in the comments. I’ve been hoovering up Clover Stroud’s ‘grief’ books and have just started ‘A Matter of Life and Death’ by Irvin and Marilyn Yalom. Books really help me process things.

    I think that’s all I can say about the last six months for now.

    (Me and my dear friend in 1998. We have been friends since we were 14 and no one ‘got me’ like he did. I’ve lost so much shared history and quirky friend-intimacy things with his passing.)

    Now to the happier news, an exciting thing happening recently, is that at the end of May my next book is coming out with Firestarter Press.

    This time it is a volume of poetry, The Bruise Palette. It is a almost entirely Manawatū production: the writing, the cover art, the design, the publisher, the book trailer film maker, the advance praise artists are all from Palmerston North. We would have gotten it printed here also if we could but we don’t have a local printery so it is going to be printed a little South of here in the Wairarapa.

    Me & some friends made a short and sweet book-trailer for it:

    Here is the cover; the painting is by my friend Kirsty Porter.

    Screenshot

    & Today it became available for pre-order, via Bruce McKenzie Books, my local independent bookshop.

    We’re doing a couple of weeks of pre-orders to see if we can get the book into the top 20 Nielsen bestseller list for the week of publication (because it doesn’t have much chance after that. Poetry doesn’t much populate bestseller lists.) It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t work…it’s just fun to have a go…like betting on a horse.

    There’s much to say about this book and life and everything! but given it’s been a while…I’ll sign off here.

    (If you pre-order a book, you’re an absolute gem and I send you air-kisses and warmest wishes.)

    I’ll be back again soon. Thanks for reading. x

  • 53 thoughts

    Hello. I know it’s Friday but instead of a ‘Slow-Small Media for the Weekend’ I want to share something else today.

    I’ve had a challenging couple of weeks so my usual ‘lovely things detection service’ have been a bit on hiatus.

    I hope to find my sea-legs and return to usual services next Friday but for now…

    …almost a month ago I turned 53. Not a very special age. Not very young but not very old either. Not a ‘big zero’ birthday. Just a middle-aged-woman kind of birthday.

    F and I went off-grid for two nights to a beautiful bush hut for a dip into nature and quiet. Trickling streams and ruru calls at night. It was lovely.

    My birthday fell on a Saturday this year and the sun came out for the day after weeks of very stormy and cold spring weather. The sun felt like such a big birthday present that day.

    Fraser went off for a walk and I poured a huge cup of tea and opened up my journal. I love using lists as a way into writing in my journal so I decided to set myself the (gentle) challenge of writing 53 thoughts for my birthday. At the outset, I didn’t have any sense of what might come…I just wrote quickly – hoping to get to 53 before Fraser returned.

    (Above: the hut had a kaitiaki with paua shell eyes.)

    I’ve decided to share the birthday list with you …not because it is especially edifying writing but because it is a snapshot of how wobbly and tender 53 feels; maybe it will be of some solace to you if you’re feeling wobbly and tender, too?

    Some of it will probably read like naff pop-psychology or hippy aphorisms. What can I say? Those things are inside me and it’s what poured out on the day. At the time of writing it was just from me to me.

    (I’m copying this from my journal. As I transcribe, I may ‘redact’ a few if they feel too specifically personal or mention my family)

    53 Birthday Thoughts

    1. Despite my challenges I am so grateful for my life.
    2. There is beauty to be found in each day. The task is to find it and attend to it.
    3. *redacted*
    4. *redacted*
    5. I forgive myself. I was doing the best at the time…or at least I was surviving.
    6. I forgive people who have hurt my heart. Not all friendships/associations are meant to last …people come and go. People are mysterious. I am mysterious. I have disappointed people. People have disappointed me. It is the way of things. Let go…..let go…. let go…
    7. Be more like a river.
    8. Be a river.
    9. We’re here to love. That’s it.
    10. No act of love is ever wasted.
    11. Try to adopt more of a ‘maybe’ attitude like the Chinese Farmer.
    12. Love is the bridge…even if long, slow and not resolved in this lifetime.
    13. I read somewhere about midlife, ‘Get better or get bitter.’ I want to get better.

    (Above: my unglamorous, sticking-plastered hand touching moss in the forest on that trip.)

    14. In a similar vein, if at midlife you have ‘ripened on the vine’ and you choose to become wine (sweet) or vinegar (sour).

    I choose wine.

    15. ‘It will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end.’

    -John Lennon

    16. I tied a red thread around my wrist in August to remind me to stay awake to my life. It’s still there… although now faded and looking a bit manky.

    (oh my gosh 53 things is so many)

    17. Is there any sweeter experience than sitting still enough that a bird swoops past you, low and swift, and you can feel the fan of air from it’s wing’s beating? (The swallows nesting in the porch here just did that to me.)

    18. The 1990s (most of my twenties) feels a long time ago now. It didn’t used to.

    19. I just found a dried and beautiful cicada wing.

    20. The love in this hut is tangible. The energy of the family who built it having lots of good times over lots of years. (est. 1988)

    21. My soundtrack right now is rushing water, magpies and tui.

    22. We decided to bring just enough food so all weekend we are eating foil-wrapped potatoes cooked in ashes with lots of butter and salt.

    (Above: birthday breakfast at the hut)

    23. Happiness can be so simple if we let it.

    Simplicity = happiness.

    24. The satisfaction of elemental sensations: food in belly, sun on face, fireside gazing, hot coffee, good pillow, the sound of a river.

    + Sitting still long enough to let it soak in.

    25. We (humans) could have this every day but we love to complicate things.

    26. No internet = more time with mind = space to let thoughts meander and unfurl.

    27. When I feel dissatisfied with life, remember today.

    (Above: hut kitchen. Simple and good.)

    28. Being content is a decision…is active…

    29. Oh the neurotic, writerly, artist’s need to record things, capture, analyse, grasp at experience. (All the photographs I’ve taken. This list.)

    30. Eels nearby. This afternoon’s adventure.

    31. An almond-finger for birthday cake.

    32. Scottish oat cakes and tangy cheddar.

    33. Lagavulin whisky.

    34. We resisted the inclination to overpack and over-cater and that has increased my enjoyment of the weekend so much. (Chosen) scarcity can increase appreciation.

    35. That sounded a bit ascetic but it doesn’t feel in the least ascetic.

    36. F is walking up a very steep hill with his still-mending leg. Courage. Determination.

    37. The warmth of companionable silence.

    38. In every way, I have to fight my constant urge to add more.

    39. Evolution, devolution, evolution…

    (home stretch)

    40. We went off-grid for my 50th also. I can feel how much I’ve changed since then. Just a few years…but big such big years.

    41. Delayed gratification: I left my little pile of birthday gifts at home on the kitchen table to open on Sunday night.

    42. In my experience, time is a spiral.

    (Above: hut bathroom. (Yes, of course we did!))

    43. The vulnerability of birthdays. The vulnerability of spring.

    44. When all you want is less – what does that look like?

    45. Being okay with the things I thought I might do that I probably won’t do.

    46. Being okay with how it all transpired.

    47. Being okay with my own particular closet-skeletons.

    Understanding that everyone has them and it would be very unwise to ever wish for anyone else’s life but my own.

    48. Knowing that you never know what people are coping with, carrying, surviving or healing from.

    49. Knowing that sometimes people who appear incredibly fortunate from the outside can sometimes be tortured by their own minds…a personal hell…

    50. Knowing that this is why it is unwise to envy.

    51. Knowing that gratitude is a kind of super-power that can help with almost any problem.

    52. Knowing that choosing love is, more often than not, the right choice.

    53. Knowing mostly how little I know…& this is the nature of life’s ongoing mystery and the way to peace.

    *

    Lucky, lucky life!

    (Above: Crossing the log bridge.)

  • Slow-Small Media for the Weekend #20

    (Above: a spiderweb in sunlight, September 20 2025, Ōtaki Gorge.)

    Last Saturday I turned 53. The above photograph was taken on my birthday. The sun came out!

    It’s been a crappy spring (weatherwise) so the sun felt like such a gift.

    I sat on the porch of the place I was staying and tried to read in the warmth…but the sun felt like such rich medicine I couldn’t hold my attention on my book and just kept closing my eyes and facing the sun like some kind of warmth-starved Tuatara.

    We were travelling light so my birthday cake was a supermarket almond finger (one of my faves) with a birthday candle and some dandelion petals:

    Article: Why is spring so hard?

    I find spring a challenging season so I was much heartened by this article answering this questions by one of my favourite writers, Juliet Batten.

    Juliet explores why spring can be a ‘bumpy’ season and reassures that it’s quite normal to find it difficult.

    A solace read.

    Carrying on with that question…an article: ‘The Cruelty of Spring and our Heartbreak at it’s Fickleness’

    This article on the ‘Examined Life’ website pulls some terrific examples from literature expanding on Juliet’s theme of spring being difficult.

    The website’s author, Ellen Vrana says:

    ‘There is life and birth and death in spring. There are lambs and rains and feasts and withdrawals, resurrections and divination.’

    Song for the week: ‘Near a Priory’ by Maxine Funke

    Any song which starts with the word ‘Granny’ is likely to get my attention.

    I like the breathy and minimalist style of New Zealand synth-folk artist Maxine Funke and this song is a sweetie:

    (You can listen to all twenty songs -I add a song every time I write a digest- on Youtube here.)

    Article: A frugal and lighthearted person talks about simple living for financial freedom

    I always read The Spinoff’s ‘Cost of Being’ series where people talk about their finances because I find it so fascinating. The way we approach money reveals so much about prorities, values and life circumstances.

    I particularly enjoyed this one.

    I immediately sent it to Fraser and said ‘this could be us!’…not so much her particular circumstances…but more her attitude. A little bit broke (compared to many) but with a resilient, light-hearted, resourceful attitude.

    This bit sounded very much like our household:

    Typical weekly food costs

    Groceries: I have no idea but it’s not much. A lot of my work involves food rescue and making community kai, so I’m always taking food home. I also grow most of my veges, and have excellent fossicking and scrounging skills!

    A lively read and helped refresh my own commitment to simple living.

    Affordable Art: ‘Resist’ by Bread and Puppet Theatre, Vermont, USA

    (Above: nothing says ‘resist!’ like weeds which will grow in cracks in the concrete. Image borrowed from Bread and Puppet Press.)

    I love dandelions. I love resistance. I love the work of the Bread and Puppet Theatre. I love this postcard and it comes in at a mere $6.00

    (& Possibly once you add postage it would be close to $50 NZD, the cut off price for ‘affordable art’…)

    A long and fascinating delve into the luddite movement

    Speaking of voluntary simplicity, my pen-friend and Wizard of Wellington, Rosie Whinray, published a long, well-researched, fascinating and fun article about the Luddites: ‘Summoning Ned Lud’.

    It’s not just about the Luddites, of course, it’s about time and labour and music and materiality and injustice and autonomy and so much more.

    Make yourself a POT of tea and sit and read this. It will take more than one cup of tea because it has various links to music and interviews on YouTube and no doubt you’ll want to savour them all.

    Thanks for another stellar read, Rosie!

    Video> ‘Life is never still’: an inspiring 92-year-old artist and writer shows us all how to live

    From the description:

    ‘His vibrant paintings burst with dramatic light and dark, playing with colour and drawing upon his Caribbean heritage. He powerfully captures the energy of Trinidadian carnival culture, folklore, and the cathartic power that the celebration holds.

    Join us for an intimate look inside his studio, writing shed, and kitchen, and experience his unique creative process that blends painting, poetry, cooking – and most importantly – love. Learn why mistakes are essential, why stepping away can spark inspiration, and how collecting objects can fuel new ideas.’

    He’s an absolute joy! You won’t regret spending 12 minutes watching his cruise through his day.

    That’s it for the week’s digest. This weekend I am hoping the weather will permit gardening. I have letters to write, mending to attend to, a new stack of library books to hang out with.

    My nettle patch is coming back to life so I’ve been making simple nettle soups and will make it again this weekend.

    I also bought a bottle of vodka so I can make some lemonbalm tincture with the new season’s lemonbalm; it always feels at most potent in spring to me…the leaves bright green and shiny. Lemonbalm is good for stress and anxiety, is known for being a ‘gladdening’ herb. (Now there’s a sweet old-fashioned word.) Read more about it here.

    I hope there are ‘gladdening’ things in your weekend.

    Thanks for being here and sharing the things that I caught in my net this week.

    x Helen

  • Writer Carly Thomas on ‘The Last Muster’

    (Above: Me (on left) and Carly Thomas cracking each other up at her 11 October 2024 book launch at the Palmerston North City Library.)

    Almost a year ago, I interviewed writer Carly Thomas live as part of her book launch event at the Palmerston North City Library. I don’t recall the specifics of the conversation but I do remember there was a lot of laughter. Carly is very funny. Also, very self-deprecating.

    I kept insisting she was courageous, intrepid, fearless and she kept batting such suggestions away. She’s a very humble person. In winter, I invited her to be my second slow interviewee. These interviews take place via email exchanges in an unhurried way. The first one was with writer Iona Winter.

    I wanted to check in with Carly a year out from the publication of ‘The Last Muster’: A nostalgic journey into New Zealand’s High Country.’

    H: Congratulations on the publication of your book! & Thanks for inviting me to help you launch it. That was a great night. 

    Can you tell me a bit about your (very impressive) research trips for this book… you did a kind of ‘action research’ where you joined the mustering gangs. I reckon that was so brave!

    C: The launch was so neat and you were a big part of that so a massive thanks to you, Helen. It all seems like a long time ago.

    Writing a book is a funny old thing, it is all consuming and then it is done. It feels like you have been out at sea, in the thick of storms and intense sunshine and then you come ashore and the tide comes in and it goes out and all is calm. That sounds depressing but it’s not, it’s just there’s a lull, a pause, and then an in-between afterwards. 

    I knew straight away that I would go and work alongside the people I was writing about. I started ringing and emailing high country stations that I had already had contact with through previous writing gigs. It took a few calls before I figured out how to communicate what exactly it was that I was doing. It became apparent that I needed to head south for the Autumn weaning musters quickly and so I got straight into getting down there.

    I’d read up a bit on each station I was going to, but not in depth, that would come later. I like to go into things a bit naive. I figure that asking stupid questions is better than assuming you already know, so I did a lot of that. I learnt as I went, was given ideas on where to go next and in that semi-informed/ follow-my-nose style I got passed onto musters. 

    I didn’t have a big planned out map of things, I really just took whatever next turn presented itself. I started down in Glenorchy at Greenstone Station and was well and truly thrown in the deep end on a four day muster with a motley crew of shepherds. After that the ball was rolling – I’d finish a muster, chuck my muddy saddle and gear in the car and head to the next one. Word got out about what I was doing and it got easier to get on the musters. I was learning skills as I went and got more handy as I went.

    My tools for capturing everything were my phone recorder/ camera/ notes, my big Sony camera (not at all fancy) and my memory for conversations. People would say great stuff, as I was riding along trying to keep a bunch of unruly cattle in line, and I would have to remember it until I could do a voice memo of what they said. It was full on and it took my ADHD multitasking superpowers to a new level. 

    I’d do dumps of writing notes when I could, when I had a day or two in between musters, but not a lot of writing happened till I got home. There was a lot of writing in my head on long car journeys. I would try to hold onto each station’s colours, tone, sound, smell, taste and hum. When I did get to sit down, those were the first words to go down, then I got to the long and arduous job of transcribing.

    Research came last, which I guess is a bit round-the-other-way from what some writers do. As I was travelling about I would try to go to local libraries to find historical tales of the area and old mustering yarns. I also collected a pretty big haul of old New Zealand mustering books from the many secondhand bookshops and op-shops I visited on my travels. Once back home I trawled through online archives and libraries to collect up old stories and facts. I went down massive rabbit holes.

    One particular moment of connection was when I was trying to find the history of a particular homestead that had been abandoned on a station. I was coming up against dead ends and in frustration I called a tiny community library opened once a week by volunteers. As I was on the phone to the woman in charge that day who was telling me “just the person I should talk to was…..”, she paused and then said, “you won’t believe this, but she just walked in the door”.

    The particular 90-something-year-old who was the missing link to the information I really needed was put onto the phone. It was magic. She told me things that were not written anywhere and could have been lost if she hadn’t stepped in right then. I just love that sort of thing and there really is something special about these encounters. 

    The whole book writing process was a combination of high adventure, a saddle-sore body, sleep deprivation, many kilometres on my little nana car’s clock and wondering where I would land next and spending hours researching in drafty libraries or sitting on my couch with a cat, a cup of tea and books piled high around me. I am a contrary soul and I enjoy both of those things equally. 

    H: Writing a book is so different from having a book published, isn’t it? 

    Yes, it really is and I think the main thing for me, this being my first experience of working with a big publisher, was knowing this project was bigger than me. I had to trust my publisher and editor and I took the opportunity to just say “yes” and be more open than I have ever been. It wasn’t just my book, it had many people involved, the most important part being all the people I encountered on the journey, who trusted me with their stories and way of life. It’s a responsibility to take care, while also telling it like it is.

    And then it’s done, the final proof is FINAL and the printers crank into gear. And then you have to let it go, into the open, out into the world, into the hands of others. 

    The tide goes out, I take the dog for a walk, I look at the hills with new eyes and I wonder, ‘what’s next?’.

    H: What did you learn about the horse mustering community over the course of writing the book? Did anything surprise you? 

    Every station was different but a few things were always the same. They love their horses and will always have them in their front paddock no matter what. They are people who choose horses over machinery to get the stock work done and that made them a certain kind of person. Horses may be a slower way of doing things, in some respects, but they are a quieter and kinder way to work stock. Stations that use horses tend to care about their animals, enjoy a slower, older way and there’s also a romance to it all as well.

    The way you see things on a horse, the chats along the way possible without the roar of a bike and the relationship you have with your horse. So yeah, they were a certain type, often a little quirky and more often very stubborn about their way of life. And they all knew each other, the connections ran very deep. 

    I was sometimes surprised by their openness in having me along. Their honesty and their passion to really help me to understand what it all means to them. Sure, there were plenty of tight lipped cowboys, but I also experienced real moments of truth and authenticity. 

    (Above: writer Carly Thomas on horseback.)

    H: Do you want to share a favourite moment from your travels with us? 

    That’s got to be on Pitt Island on a day off from mustering the cattle and doing yard work. Me and the two kids from the family I was staying with went for a windy adventure with them leading the way. They proudly showed me the very steep cliff drop-off where they weren’t supposed to go, the quick (and very scary!) way down to the beach and the wharf and the old shearing shed retired back when wool prices dropped to pretty much nothing.

    I was told the names of birds and horses and paddocks and we arrived back hungry, windswept and grinning. Brilliant day! 

    H: What have you been reading lately? Can you recommend a few recent reads? 

    Oh so many good books lately! I have discovered a New Zealand author, Fiona Sussman and now her book Addressed to Greta is a favourite. The main character Greta is one of those memorable ones that you fall in love with.

    I have also become a  little obsessed with Elif Shafak, a Turkish writer who wrote There are rivers in the sky. It’s an epic story told over different decades and cultures. A must-read I’d say.

    Oh and The Homemade God by Rachel Joyce. I love a good complicated family dynamic story and this is a goodie. 

    H: Thanks heaps for doing a slow interview with me, Carly. I hope there are lots of horsey good times in your summer.

    C: Thanks mate!

    *

    Carly is already deep in her next project. It’s an ongoing project to capture the stories of Aotearoa’s rural elderly called Landlines.

    Check out their first short film:

  • Slow-Small Media for the Weekend #18

    (Above: a tiny posy of small flowers from the garden: forget-me-not, pansies, calendula, & marigold.) )

    Hello!

    Another week of our lives has passed since the last time you were here…indulging me by reading my collected nonsense.

    How was your week? Did you have time to look at the sky for a while? Read a good book? Wear something that makes you feel excellent and utterly yourself? Did you drink enough cups of tea?

    If not, make yourself one now and settle in for some slow-small media imbibing…

    The joy of simple well-made things

    I write this from beside our fire. It’s stormy outside and today’s high is 12 degrees. The fire is just over a year old. We had it put in when our 1980s gas fire was condemned by the gas inspector. He recommended a heat pump. We did this instead and have not regretted the decision for even a second.

    The fire was made in New Zealand in a business in the Hawke’s Bay. The fire feels like a new member of the family and staring into her depths has given me many happy moments.

    (Above: our little fire with the morning sun on her.)

    When I was in Taupō last weekend, I upgraded our poker to a lovely hand made one from a metalsmith at the local Sunday morning market. I took a photo of him brandishing the poker at the market because he was a lovely chap and I am a nerd for the provenance of handmade things:

    (Above: The maker of our new poker. He didn’t make the hooks on display but he did make the poker.)

    Speaking of woodstoves, last week I stumbled on the YouTube account of Homewood Stoves, another NZ-made wood fire business – this time based near Whangarei.

    Their videos are full of wholesome and homey videos featuring their beautiful homes, gorgeous kids and lovely kitchen…it’s peak #cottagecore content but in a NZ context. Very soothing viewing for a rattled nervous system. Which leads me to today’s recipe…

    How to start a ginger bug for homemade ginger beer

    Also on the Homewood Stoves channel, this aesthetically-pleasing and slow method video has really inspired me to brew up some ginger beer this summer.

    This is a very helpful and nicely made video.

    & I have kitchen-envy! >>

    Poetry: A bit of Mary Oliver balm for another hard news week

    On Thursday, I had a really long work day and was ‘head down, bum up’ all day so didn’t catch any news. When I finally knocked off, Fraser mentioned it had been a big news day in terms of global events and laid it all out for me. (I won’t rake it over here because it’s not Slow-Small-Media suitable… ) but again I was struck how, in these turbulent times, you can be offline just for a day and then plug back in and find the world has been through the wringer again…in new and newly-awful ways.

    To that end, I feel this week we need one of the big guns of solace poetry…so here’s an excerpt from Mary Oliver’s ‘In Blackwater Woods’ (read the whole poem here):

    Here she is on love and the necessity of detachment as part of that love:

    ‘To live in this world

    you must be able
    to do three things:
    to love what is mortal;
    to hold it

    against your bones knowing
    your own life depends on it;
    and, when the time comes to let it go,
    to let it go.’

    A song for the week: ‘So Free’ by Lūka, & Mose

    I appreciate every season…however, at this stage of late winter/crappy spring, I can’t help but begin to yearn for summer.

    This newish song by Lūka & Mose gives me that spacious and bright summer-road-trip feeling…even on this stormy day.

    I can tell I’ll be playing it a lot this summer:

    (You can listen to all of the Slow-Small Media songs over on YouTube here. I add one song every time I write a new edition of this digest.)

    Affordable Art : the Tea Frog you probably don’t need at all but might make you smile

    Oh, hi:

    (Above: image borrowed from the IkoIko website.)

    Look, I know nobody needs this ridiculous object…but how much fun, hey? )(+ Who ever went into IkoIko looking for something they needed?)

    This little guy is $33 so he falls well within the affordable art budget of $50.

    Is it ‘art’ though? I imagine you asking… I’d argue it makes having a cup of tea more artful…and so yes, he qualifies.

    A short list of ‘sacred gifts’, from Alex Klingenberg

    Returning to the topic of regulating the nervous system after feeling rattled by the noise of the world… this short article by Alex Klingenberg invites us to consider what we have to give in this moment, what our ‘sacred gifts’ are.

    I particularly like this excerpt. As I read the list below, I think about how I can bring these qualities into my relationships, my family, my friendships.

    Does my being in my presence leave people a little uplifted? I hope so.

    Sacred Gifts of Being:

    • Presence – showing up fully to the moment.
    • Attention – the act of noticing, listening, and honoring.
    • Wonder – the childlike awe that keeps the world alive.
    • Stillness – the capacity to rest, pause, and make space.
    • Resilience – carrying light through difficulty.
    • Gratitude – choosing to see abundance and say thank you.

    The article is gentle and thoughtful; I felt a little steadier after reading it.

    (Hat tip for this link to Thousand Shades of Gray who also does a regular digest which I really enjoy and find a lot of good reads from.)

    An artist who embraced the slow art of sewing after an illness

    Speaking of gratitude and presence, this is a lovely watch. Louise Watson had to give up her teaching career after illness. Now, she lives more slowly and has begun and nature-based art practice as part of her new, slowed-down life:

    & That’s a wrap for this week’s sharing.

    This weekend I’ve been invited to a friend’s house for the inaugural paella in her new (from the op shop) paella pan; I’m going to be sharing early birthday cake with some fellow September-birthday friends and I’m going to a Sika Sound Journey as he’s passing through town. This will be my fifth time going to a Sika journey. I’ve been twice at yoga/kirtan camps and twice here in my home town. It’s always worth it. Transporting!

    Sika often starts his journeys with the repeated phrase:

    ‘you are leaving time…you are leaving time…you are leaving time…’

    I hope you can find some moments of presence, attention, wonder, stillness, resilience and gratitude this weekend and also maybe ‘leave time‘ for a little bit.

    Much love.

  • Slow-Small Media for the Weekend #17

    (Above: PN’s Te Manawa Museum currently has an exhibition about sunshine and light. Here I am playing with my shadow in the light box.)

    Song for the week: Just George ‘Lungs’

    This local tune is by my friend Abi Symes. I’m proud to have a little connection to this song, all about the overwhelming nature of grief, because Abi wrote it after we had a conversation about the physicality of grief. Abi got a bad lung infection after going through multiple griefs in quick succession and I told them that in Traditional Chinese Medicine, the lungs are an organ where grief is felt.

    Abi sent me the song and I felt all tingly at the way, as creative people, we can cross-pollinate each other without even intending to. I love the song and I love Abi.

    (I add one song every time I compile this digest. You can enjoy the whole playlist on Youtube here.)

    Be careful, this video may turn you into a total bird nerd

    I loved everything about this little clip from Gardening Australia: the birds, the Australian native plants…but mostly, the enthusiasm and nerdy citizen-science of the sweet, sweet couple who are developing the bird garden. They gave me a deep case of ‘elder couple goals’ for me and F.

    Watch this and then tell me people aren’t good:

    A fun spring challenge: can you find enough edible flowers to make a ‘fairy salad’?

    (Above: my fairy salad – all of this was growing in the garden.)

    Spring in the Manawatū is pretty horrid. Squally winds, sudden temperature drops, weather that goes from warm to icy within the same outing…leaving me in the wrong clothing…all uncomfortable and cross.

    It’s been like that all week….then on Wednesday…there was a brief reprieve and the sun came out. The garden was still. I could hear the tūi. I could hear my own thoughts.

    I grabbed the sun-window to play in the garden and I made a fairy salad from edible flowers.

    Read all about it, including the recipe for the dressing, over on my Substack.

    (btw, I’m still not sure about writing in two places. Here and Substack. I thought I’d do it for a year and then reassess. Do you have any opinions? I’d love to hear them in the comments.)

    Affordable Art*: ‘Forage’ vase

    (Above: image of the ‘forage’ vase from Jilly Jam Pots borrwed from Felt)

    At just $48, I think this vase is such good value. Handmade, rustic, interesting, very original. The inside is glazed to hold water for the little stems you have foraged from around the place. I love it – so simple and eye-catching. The maker, jilly jam pots, has lots of other goodness in their shop, too, including this little vase that looks like a lotus pod. So good.

    (*To qualify as ‘affordable art’, the item needs to be less than $50 NZD. Let me know if you’ve spotted anything around the internet you think people might enjoy and I’ll share it.)

    Rest in power, Kelly Ana Morey

    As a Gen-X NZ writer, I was shocked and saddened to hear of the death of Kelly Ana Morey.

    Kelly is iconic among my generation of NZ writers. Punky, fierce, funny, no-bullshit, straight from the hip, generous, strong sense of justice and of course, a brilliant writer who didn’t get enough kudos and celebration.

    As my FB feed filled with tributes and lamentations, I was again filled with that deep sense of life is so short and random.

    Tell people you appreciate them now. If people cross your mind – get in touch and tell them you were thinking of them.

    Tell a creaky, broke, vulnerable NZ artist that you love their work TODAY. Or if you can’t be bothered doing that, give them $20 via their online begging bowls or maybe, buy one their creative efforts.

    It’s hard being an artist in NZ:

    “This fucking stupid milk-loving piece of shit dumbass mean-spirited sale at Briscoes racist sexist 40% off deck furniture piss country.”

    as Hera Lindsay Bird once tweeted. (Also iconic.)

    A poem: ‘After Work’ by Gary Snyder

    I love Gary Snyder. Especially this book.

    This week’s poem, ‘After Work’ I thought would be a good one as we (in NZ) leave winter…

    It’s simple, it’s erotic, it’s amusing.

    The stew simmering on the fire is not the only thing simmering.

    & it reflects his Zen-eyes. 

    After Work

    The shack and a few trees
    float in the blowing fog

    I pull out your blouse,
    warm my cold hands
         on your breasts.
    you laugh and shudder
    peeling garlic by the 
         hot iron stove.
    bring in the axe, the rake,
    the wood

    we'll lean on the wall
    against each other
    stew simmering on the fire
    as it grows dark
                drinking wine.

    *

    I think that’s all I have to share this week, friends. Soon we are driving up the Desert Road to visit my folks. I’m hoping there will be snow so we can have a snowball fight and I can take photographs of icicles.

    (I have a poem which mentions the Desert Road.)

    + Happy Fathers Day to all the good Dads in the world…and may the not-good Dads be forgiven so their offspring can find peace in their hearts.

    If I don’t blow away in these horrible spring blusters…I will see you here again next week.

    x Helen

  • My ‘Verb Home-based Writers Residency’ begins this week

    Above: my big old monster of a desk.

    I bought my monster desk from the Wellington Central Salvation Army op-shop in 1999 – the year I was studying creative writing full-time.

    I think at the time I felt I needed a serious desk to be a serious writer.

    When I got it home, it had old papers in the drawers from the Ministry of Education so I guess that’s where it spent the first part of it’s working life?

    It’s huge and heavy and more than once when we’ve moved house we’ve had to take doors off their hinges to get it inside.

    It’s heavy and daft…and I still love it, twenty-five years on.

    *

    I share this picture of my home working space because for the next three weeks, I’m one of two inaugural Verb Home-Based Writing Residents!

    Having begun my home-based residency, I want to publicly applaud Verb for their forward-thinking, compassion and generosity in establishing this (sadly) unique opportunity for writers who have circumstances which make applying for away-from-home artist residencies from challenging to impossible.

    When I first saw the advertisement for the home-based residency, I felt so very moved and so happy for our NZ writing community. I know so many writers for whom travelling to writing opportunities is outside what is possible in their lives.

    This home-based residency acknowledges and honours the unique challenges of disability, of care work and of care load.

    More than anything else, it gives visibility to a strata of creatives who often feel invisible, unseen and unsupported. I know that while I have done my very best to keep my creative work alive it has often felt like swimming upstream of the demands of my life.

    (Btw, If you don’t know me well enough to know what my circumstances are, I have an adult son (he’s 20) with autism and I am his main carer. I do my writing work around his care.)

    I also wish to thank Verb for generously deciding to award two residencies in this inaugural year. They advertised for one and after considering the applications, awarded two. How marvellous, hey?

    My fellow ‘at-home’ resident is the brilliant Henrietta Bollinger. Do go and read Henrietta’s book. It’s smart, fierce and very funny.

    So here I sit, at home at the monster desk as usual…but with the warmest feeling of support, visibility and with large swells of gratitude.

    Thank you so much, Verb.