THE GOOD NEIGHBOUR.

New Zealand Journal of Agriculture, Volume 67, Issue 1, 15 July 1943, Page 65

THE GOOD NEIGHBOUR.

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I WISH you could see the cyclamen that has burst into sudden glory on my window-sill! • No words of mine could describe the beauty of itthe shade is one of those beautiful tonings in between scarlet and purple, so rich to look at, so delicate to touch.. For months my flower-pot was just a container for some earth, then there came a shoot, and later the reward of many months of waiting— perfect flower. Encouraged by this success, I have been on a shopping expedition, and what do you think I have now? Why, some funny brownish bulbs that one day will delight me with their beauty when they blossom forth as dainty hyacinths. I never like to know what colours I am buying, so I purposely refrain from enquiring, and then it is such fun watching and waiting and wondering! And after its flowering, the bulb is taken out of my flowerpot on the window-sill, to find a home in my garden. Did I ever tell you of my bulb garden? It grows outside my bedroom window, and two years ago it came to me from “Mary Ann.” She sent me the box of bulbs, which I planted round the ngaio tree, and they are coming up again, “Mary Ann.” Only this morning I saw the first shoots spearing their way up through the damp, cold earth. What a miracle is unfolded each time a bulb bursts into sudden life. Reminds me of a poem I used to recite in my childhood days, and which I remember yet. “The little bulb house is a house of brown, Its doors are locked, and its blinds are down. Winds may whistle and winds may creep, The little brown house is a house of sleep. But when the sun gives a golden knock, The blinds go up, and the doors unlock. The sleepy tenant will softly stir, And throw off the garments that cover her. And she will put on her dress with care, , A Hyacinth Lady, tall and fair. . . . All this magic in scent and blue You may buy in the shop for a copper or two!”

What a wealth of solace and comfort is to be derived from a garden! In my mail this week I had an interesting letter from “Hydro,” and I want to share it with you all, for I know there are many of you with suffering hearts and haunting fears to whom her letter will come as an inspiration. She writes: “Lately, in between all the family cares and chores, I have been planting cuttings of the lovely little barberry with the orange and red berries, down both sides of our curving drive they are about the only things the horses won’t eat, and they will not be too heavy to keep the sun from the drive. Also at odd moments during the past summer and autumn, I have planted groups of narcissi around the drive, and am looking forward to their beauty in the springtime. But a friend said bitterly one day: ‘You would be better employed doing war work—this sort of thing could be left till after the war. The boys won’t appreciate it when they come home.’ Do you think so, Mary? When so much is being destroyed I think it is a

duty on our part to preserve what beauty is left, and create new beauty wherever possiblejust in odd moments of our full days. Although our own beloved soldier will never come back to us, I know half-a-dozen others who will, and I feel very sure that, at least five out of the six will be very grateful for any touch of beauty, physical or spiritual, which may help to wipe out the memory of those terrible years.” Thank you, “Hydro,” and I do agree with you. Also lam sure that there will be many readers who will want to send their thanks, too — is something about a garden which is . enduring, and which will outlast many troubles, lifting our hearts high above the worries of today. So I leave you with this last thought: “You are nearer God’s heart in a garden Than anywhere else on earth.” Remember that, those of you who are heavy-hearted and saddened by the events of .■ today, go back to your gardens, and in building up a new beauty you will find there a peace of mind that will do much to restore 1 t your faith in the /J .*4/ world in which you * tIWTJf live. / /

Competitions

JULY Hurry up with your entries for this month’s competition, for remember it closes on August 15th, and the subject is “Awkward Moments.” How I am looking forward to laughing with you over what was once an awkward moment! AUGUST How hard are YOU working in the effort to win the war? This question is not meant in a reproachful way, for I know that many of you are shouldering a man’s job and doing it splendidly. What I really want to find out is just how you, as a farmer’s wife, have rearran-

ged your daily household duties to permit of time to be spent in helping out with the farm work. Many women of today are doing all their pre-war household work, with an additional and sometimes heavy work on the farm, and yet we thought once we were busy in those days of peacetime! Some of us may gain useful knowledge through your way of rearranging your work, so do let us share your way of doing two days’ work in one. Two prizes: first, 10/- and second, 5/-. This competition closes on 15th September. “MARY,” C/o “Journal of Agriculture,” P.O. Box 3004, Wellington.

STRANGE PHOBIAS

This was such a different competition! By that I mean that every one of you sent in an entry disclosing a fear of a different kind, and how hard was the judging no one knows but myself. However I think “Laurel” of Fielding has sent in the winning entry, and I am sure you will all agree with the closing sentence in her contribution. Second prize goes to “Blue Bell,” of Temuka—l am, not quite sure whether any name was ever Coined for her particular kind of phobia, but I am sure of thisthat it is a phobia known to a great many of you.

First Prize:

MY strange phobia was the intense and unaccountable dislike of touching a fish, either alive or dead. Once when a small girl, my brothers dared me to lift the two goldfishes out of the bowl which stood on our hall stand. It took a great deal of will power for me to do this, but I managed it, and escaped being branded a “cowardly-custard.” I can still remember the awful feeling as I did the deed, with a heart that seemed to be throbbing every bit as much as those of the two poor fishes.

Once in my teens our help was called away, and mother was ill in bed. My sisters were married, and living in other towns long ere this, and the first night I couldn’t settle to sleep, for as I tossed and turned I wondered if I could cook the schnapper that I knew was in the safe for next morning’s breakfast. I thought I could manage to cook it if only I didn’t have to handle it much. I fell asleep and woke in the morning to find the breakfast ready cooking, Father having put on the porridge and prepared the fish. What a relief!

After I married necessity made me overcome my phobia, as following an illness my husband was put on a diet including steamed fish three or four times a week, although I must confess that I did not even then handle the fish' any more than I ; could possibly help. Time passed, and a sister who was 16 years my senior was staying with me, and I happened to say that I could never understand why touching fish was so abhorrent to me. I then learnt that when I was a toddler someone came to our home bringing a string of fish, and I had been frightened of the shining, scaly things because one of the family had playfully chased me with' one. She had remonstrated with the foolish one, and the incident was apparently forgotten. A few years later she married, and once

when she heard me say I loathed touching fish she thought it was because I was fussy about my hands! If you have a phobia do your best to find out why, and I hope that yours will disappear as mine — Laurel, Feilding. Second Prize: i TT has been a. busy day (well, most X days seem to be the same), but

we’ll say this was washing day, accompanied by-the scrubbing jobs, verandahs, dairy , and so on; then the ironing to finish the day, so Mother

feels bed will be a most welcome place, and climbs into her haven '• of rest, hoping against hope that there will be no disturbance until getting-up time on the morrow.

2 a.m. Mother’s slumbers are aroused, and a strange fear passes through her surely that was not Baby awake? How she hopes it was a false alarm, for she is so tired. But listen, her worst fears are realised, and she must get up to the wee man. It may mean it will be an hour or so before she can settle down to comfy sleep again, only to be awakened shortly after by another young man who “wants to get dressed.” I wonder how many mothers share this phobia of mine when wakened in the small hours?— Blue Bell, Temuka. QLAUSTROPHOBIA is what my fear is called. It is a morbid fear of being shut up in a confined space, of horror of crowds, crowded places, lifts, cars, aeroplanes, in fact a fear of any place from which I cannot see an easy exit, and plenty of fresh air. I am like the woman in the story who was staying at an hotel, and who awoke in the middle of the night gasping for air. She got up, and in the dark tried to open the window, but that seemed a fixture, so she took her brush, and broke it, then she went back to bed and slept till morning. Imagine her dismay when she found the next day that it was not the window she had smashed, but the mirror of the duchesse. One would think from that that claustrophobia is only imagination, but no, it is more, or why would it be found in the medical encyclopaedia?Liza Jane, Catling. JpIRE! How that word sends. chills up and down my spine, my heart nearly suffocates me with its wild beating, I cannot rest but have to rush to and fro every few minutes to see if the fire is under control. We are in a fire area, and after a fire I imagine

I smell burning for days, and even wake at night thinking the place is on fire. We have had a big fire, which probably accounts for some of my fear, but I think I developed it when I was a child in Dunedin. I was awakened one very dark night by the ' screaming of the fire siren. I watched from the window of the top. story of our house with my mother . ana brothers. The fire was just across the main street from us, and it was indeed a terrifying sight to see the flames licking the building, and lighting it up in the darkness. My wish is that I may never be in a fire at night I try to conquer my tear but cannot.Nor’ West Canterbury ' DEAR — much it enters into our lives. Even the bravest of souls usually have something in their lives

which causes fear, a fear often caused during childhood, the cause so remote that it is forgotten, but the fear nevertheless is still very real. ~ . .. „ . Worst of all to me there is the fear of earthquakes. Do you know it? Those of us who have lived through the 1931-32 Hawke’s Bay ’quakes were and still are so unhappily situated as to work and live in a brick building will appreciate this fear. That horrible pounding of the heart and paralysis of the legs which even a tremor sets m motion And vet how small those fears motlon - And yet how small those tears “ST to? tho-l XX ie unenviable lot of those who live in war-wracked lands. What paeans of praise we should give to Him Who has so mercifully spared us such days and nights.; Alix, Wairoa.

TpEAR alone will not produce a phobia. Even so there are many interesting phobias in the world. Have you- ever heard of the girl who had a fixed belief that she always exuded an smell 7 It paralysed all her social I Qf urse _? as afraid to meet people until the phobia was dispelled. On the whole many New Zealand farmers wives are active, sensible people. You will agree with me there, F?JZ a P-seated phobia 1 doubt that they aie of the type that let their fears t the better of them ' when we must keep ourselves so stolid and calm and brave for the sake of our boys, and for the sake of the generation that is rising in a war-wracked world. Wanda A. Long-, Auckland.

at - Howie -

HAVE you ever seen’ a really glorious head of hair? I have read of hair like burnished copper and spun gold, but until the other day had never seen it. I - walked down the street behind a girl of about nineteen. Her hair - hung in light waves almost to her shoulders, and really shone like spun gold—it was a truly glorious sight. The owner must have spent a lot of time brushing it, as no hairdresser could produce such results. I had a brainwave the other day, Mary. .1 cut out all the “Good Neighbours” I could find from pa_t magazines,' and sometime I am going to make a “Good Neighbour Scrapbook.” Then when my children grow older, or when I have visitors on a wet day, or perhaps am myself down in the dumps for a while, I am sure the Good Neighbour will drop in and be most welcome. Hopewell, New Plymouth. THERE are vistors here today, friends that we all can share. The two fan tails are back again, and the kingfisher in all his beauty. The little birds are all backgoldfinches, green eyes, yellow hammers-they are all back; silly birds, they think it is spring, and indeed it is deceiving, but wait until July and August. They are our two worst months . up here. —M., Fielding.

MY home now is on the edge of the bush where we camped early in the year. Glorious to live with bush and green grass on one hand, and on the other an orchard gold-over with buttercups in the spring. And out beyond it all, hills green with pines, and mountains gravely blue. Today we found a bank of periwinkles. Anne loves to gather them in her basket and put them in a floating bowl. If you gather just the flower heads they will last a week. They seem to become more lavender-toned indoors, and often I have thought we have had a bowl of pale violets. We have been making daisy chains fancy that in the middle of winter! —and oh, I wish you could come and stand under the tall oak at the back door, watch the leaves fall, like little brown thoughts, and feel the soft touch of them on your face. We’ve watched them race the raindrops to the grass, we’ve watched them twirled down by a sudden breeze, but what fascinates us most is to see them flutter down when the day is still, and there is no breath .of wind. Suddenly in the quietness there is a fluttering and there is a bronze shower catching the — Tinkle, Tinkle. TALKING of recipes, I quite agree with Fruffy that it is nice to get

new recipes, but what is one to do in a case like this? Visiting a .friend the other day I commented on a beautiful cake she had, and asked her for the recipe. She said, “Oh well! I often make it, every two. or three months really, but I can’t give you the recipe.” Thinking she was one of those really nasty people who cherish their recipes so zealously that they re-

fuse to hand them out, I just nodded, but she said, ‘’'Well, it’s an ‘Odds-and-Ends Cake.’ I make it whenever I clean out my pantry. I just take a bit of butter, and so much sugar, and two or three eggs, and then I add perhaps the last of a pot of j'am, or the remains left in the chutney bottle. Then I fling in all a small jug of milk, and if I haven’t any milk then marmalade or syrup—just what, ever I have, really. i Sometimes I even throw in a saucerful of cooked vegetables. . . . Now you know!” Well, I didn’t really “know” at all, but really it was a lovely cake, and although I have tried to make an “Odds-and-Ends” cake toowell, it doesn’t seem to work out. Alter Ego, Clinton. I WAS so surprised to win a prize in the competition. I spent my prize money in taking an old neighbour and her two children to a cafeteria lunch in Blenheim. They had never been in a cafeteria before, so it was a great treat for them. The children were born during the slump, and I rarely see them now that we are no longer neighbours. So you see my prize money was not frittered away. Maida, Picton.

WE used to have lots of fun when we were kiddies in many ways. But most of all we loved making those gay-coloured paper chains that we strung across the room on birthdays

or other festive occasions. Sometimes we were lucky enough to have a supply of coloured paper, but more often we had to do our painting before we could begin to cut and paste. I am

sure our mother felt pleased when she learned that we had to paint our paper first, for the amusement lasted so much longer.— A.S.C., Carterton.

— I Tflatoj’s lllixiwj | j I

L Recipes For Children ———J

ARE you one of those mothers whose children will eat anything at any time and like it, especially if the food is good for them? If so you are fortunate indeed, for most children have their fads and fancies in the eating line. Variety, of course, is just as . important, perhaps even more important, in the menu of the little ones as it is for father and mother, for even the best of food seems unappetising if served with too much regularity. Below I give you' a selection of recipes for the children’s meals which may help you out when you are asking yourself, “What shall I give Tommy for a pudding today?” Every one is worth trying. APPLE TAPIOCA. I cup tapioca, J cup sugar, 2

tablespoons butter, 6 apples, 2J cups of boiling water. Soak tapioca in enough cold water to cover for one hour. Add boiling water and cook if possible in a double saucepan for one hour. Core and pare the apples and arrange in a pie-dish. Fill the cavities with sugar, dab with butter, and pour the tapioca over. Bake in a moderate oven for one hour till soft, basting with the tapioca. BREAD AND BUTTER PUDDING (Without Eggs). Slice sufficient white or brown (stale) bread to half-fill a good-sized pie-dish, and spread each slice thinly with butter. Grease the dish, then lay in the slices, sprinkling some currants, sultanas, and dates between each layer, adding also a little sugar. Moisten

the bread with a cup of milk. Prepare about a pint of custard made with custard powder and pour over while hot. Grate a little nutmeg on the top and cook in a moderate oven for about one hour. JELLIED RICE. 1 packet jelly crystals, 1 cup boiled rice, | cup chopped dates, raisins, sultanas, etc. Dissolve jelly crystals according to directions on the packet. When cold whip until thick and foamy. Fold the rice into the whipped jelly and stir in the chopped fruits. This dish ' served with a little cream is very popular.

SEMOLINA (OR GROUND RICE) PUDDING. 1 level dessertspoon semolina, 4 oz. milk, Take a little of the milk and mix with semolina. Add to the rest of the milk, which should be boiling. Boil for a few minutes and then bake in a small bowl (standing in a dish of water) for 30 minutes. A double boiler may also be used. Sprinkle a little sugar on the pudding when serving. ORANGE JELLY. One orange. Cut the orange in half, scoop juice and pulp into a measure, and make up to 6oz. with water. Beat and stir in one level dessertspoon granulated gelatine previously’ dissolved. Pour back into orange skin and leave to set.

APPLE CHARLOTTE. Stew some apples with a little honey or a ’ few chopped dates .or raisins. Line a buttered pie-dish with wholemeal breadcrumbs. Fill up with'stewed apples, cover • with more wholemeal breadcrumbs, and bake hard in a slow oven. STEAMED CUSTARD. 6oz. milk, 1 egg, a pinch of salt. Beat the egg and add the milk and .salt. Stand in a saucepan of boiling water or steamer or bake in the oven until just set. Do not allow the cus-tard-to boil. C SPANISH CREAM. -2 dessertspoons (|oz.) gelatine, 2 cups milk, 2 dessertspoons sugar, 4 cup hot water, 2 eggs, essence of ' vanilla. . . Beat the yolks of eggs and sugar together; add to milk; place on fire; stir until the mixture comes to the boil and coats the spoon. Remove from the fire. , Dissolve gelatine in hot water and add to the mixture. Add the . essence. \ Beat the whites of eggs until .stiff and stir into the mixture. Pour into the mould. This dish should be left overnight to set. Do not keep the custard cooking after it has come to the boil. BAKED APPLES. Wipe the apples and either remove the centre with an apple corer or make an incision in the skin round the apple. Place the apples on a baking-tin with the brown sugar in the place of the core or on the top of.the apples. Pour a little water round the apples and bake in a moderate oven. The time required will .vary with the kind and size of the apple. One hour is an average time. The flavour of baked apples may be varied by placing a date or a spoonful of jam or marmalade in the centre of each apple in place of the core. This is a good dish for a children’s party tea. JELLY AND CUSTARD PUDDING. 1 sponge sandwich, 4- pint of cus- ■ tard made with custard powder, 1 packet of jelly crystals. Put the sponge in a glass dish, make jelly and when cool pour over the sponge and leave to set. Then pour the cold custard over the top and decorate with some of the jelly crystals or hundreds , and thousands. INVALID PUDDING. 4 oz. ground rice, 4 oz. castor sugar, 4. lemon rind grated, 4 pint milk, 1 egg. . Mix the ground rice with 1 tablespoonful milk. Add to it the remainder of the milk, boiling, also the sugar,lemon rind, and a pinch of salt. Pour back into the saucepan and boil 3 or 4

minutes. Beat the yolk and the white of the egg separately, add the yolk to the milk, etc., then the white, which must be lightly stirred in. Pour into a buttered pie-dish and bake t for 4 hour in a moderate oven. If Tommy does not like custard, and some children do not, try ' chopping a banana into small pieces and mixing it with his custard. This often helps the custard to go down. WHOLEMEAL SCONES. 3 cups of fine or coarse wheatmeal, 3 teaspoons baking powder; or 2 teaspoons of cream of tartar, 1 teaspoon baking soda. Small 4 teaspoon salt, 1 tablespoon butter. Dates if desired, 14 cups of milk. Mix together wheatmeal, salt, baking powder, and dates, if used. Melt the butter. Make a hole in centre of

dry ingredients and stir in lightly. and thoroughly the butter and milk' together. Turn dough on the baking board, well floured with wheatmeal. Press out lightly with hands and cut into squares. Cook in fairly hot oven for 20 minutes. If baking soda and cream of tartar are used in place of baking powder, mix cream of tartar with dry ingredients,. Dissolve the baking soda in the milk and stir into the dry ingredients. ORANGE CORDIAL. ,4 oranges, 2 lemons, 61b. sugar, 2oz. tartaric acid, 2 s quarts boiling water. Grate the rinds from, the fruit, squeeze the juice and put into a basin with sugar and acid. Pour over this the boiling water and stir well. Leave for one day before using. Put into airtight bottles.

Do You Know These "Phobia" Words?

YOU may find this list useful sometime — it is difficult to be quite sure of what is the correct name for that phobia you suffer . from, or have heard others talk about. As you know, a phobia is a fear, so here is a list for you: Acrophobia.-High places (looking down). Agoraphobia.-Wide spaces. Algophobia.— Astrophobia.Thunder and Lightning. . . r , Claustrophobia. Confined spaces. Hematophobia.Sight of blood. Hydrophobia.— Lalophobia.,—Speaking or attempting to speak. Rupophobia.— Necrophobia. bodies. Nyctophobia.—Darkness, night. Phonophobia.- aloud. Photophobia.Light. Sitophobia— Eating, repugnance to food. Taphophobia.Premature burial. Thanatophobia.Death.