Making Food Go Further

New Zealand Journal of Agriculture, Volume 71, Issue 3, 15 September 1945, Page 325

Making Food Go Further

By

NORMA METSON,

Rural Sociologist,

Department of Agriculture, Wellington. -

WE know that winter in Europe is going to mean starvation for millions o f people, in spite of the help that can be provided , rrxTnn a iii-t ■ rrz r r • • , r by UNRRA and other relief agencies. We are beginning to realise the meaning of the facts revealed at the Hot Springs Conference on Nutrition and Agriculture two-thirds of the people of the world, including many who spend their lives on the land, raising tjiijl..„ i . ,1 1 , 1 food, have never had enough to eat. That there has always been widespread malnutrition in all lands, even the most prosperous, and that in many lands there has always been actual hunger, and periodic famines that take the lives •of millions.” We have been assured that ships can be made available to transport all the food which we can spare. Increased production is, of course, the only , ■ t t n i permanent solution for these problems, but more economical con- . . y i t r • • sumption, in a country such as ours, can make a definite contribution; and, what is more, its effects would begin at once.

■tV THAT are the facts, about food waste? Here is one story with waste? Here is one story with a sufficiently obvious moral. A few months ago a group of people decided to try to find some way in which they could make a further contribution to the ■ war effort. As they were all busy people they arranged to meet at luncheon to discuss possible plans. The amount of food wasted in the preparation and serving of that luncheon was over lib. for each person present. It is probable that on an average every two families in New Zealand could keep an extra person on the food they waste—and that would amount to feeding a city of 200,000 people. The United States estimated that in 1942 they wasted a quantity of food which would have been sufficient to feed their armed forces and

meet their commitments under lend lease. Because of our smaller population in New Zealand our grand total would not be so impressive, but proportionately our food waste is just as great. Skimping with food is against our dearest traditions, but most families could economise in food consumption in one or more of the following ways without any appearance of skimping. It is essential, however, at the beginning to distinguish between true and false economy. It is false economy, for example, to cut down the use of an essential food like milk. It is true economy to make more use in cooking and in drinks of skimmilk which would otherwise be wasted, and to feed fowls on any scraps which human beings really cannot consume.

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Meal Planning The basis of economical food use is meal planning, and meals thought out for a day, or, better still, for a week in advance are likely to be better balanced and to make better use of available food than those whipped up on the spur of the moment. Well-planned meals will take account of the foods required by family members and provide them economically. Here is a “yardstick” by which to measure daily meals. It shows the daily quantities required. Milk: Adults 1 pint, children Inpin ts. Eggs: 3 or 4 times per week if supplies are available. Meat: 1 serving. Cheese: loz. Vegetables: 2 servings, 1 green or

Fruit and tomatoes: 2 servings, 1 a good source of vitamin C. Potatoes: 1 or more servings. Fats— if possible: 1 to 2oz. Bread and cereal: At least half the amount eaten to be in enriched or whole grain form. Sugar, fat, etc.: To satisfy appetite. Source of vitamin D: Sunlight or fish liver oil. x If eggs are not available, use more cheese and dried legumes (peas, beans, and lentils). Further details of meal planning will be published in later “Journals,” and there are excellent menus in the Health Department’s booklet on “Good Nutrition.” Judge Amounts Carefully Careful judgment of quantities when preparing and serving food helps to

avoid waste. In many farm homes it is routine to provide for two or three more people than are normally expected •at a meal, but unheralded guests are less likely now than in the days when petrol was plentiful. Mothers who have had large families often find it hard to cut down their scale of cooking when the family is no longer at home. The problem of food pushed to the side of the plate and left uneaten because somebody wasn’t feeling hungry can be overcome by enquiring into the state of appetites before the meal is served, or by z starting out with fairly small first servings and making provision for second helpings for those who want them.

Left-overs

Left-overs —the small pieces of this and that which are left in the saucepans and serving dishes at meal times —are a continual bane to many housewives. They don’t , like to throw them out because it seems (and is) a waste of good food. But they find great difficulty in getting rid of them in any other way. Better judgment of quantities to be cooked in the first place will help, but there are many ways in which left-overs can be used in attractive meals. Vegetables are easy. They can go into soups, stews, salads, and savoury tea or breakfast dishes. They can be chopped and seasoned for sandwich fillings, or used to make scrambled eggs or omelettes more substantial. Pumpkin suitably treated can make ' a filling for pies . and a delicious lemon honey spread. Most housewives can deal with meat adequately, but it is worth remembering that quite small pieces can be cut fine and used for flavouring soups or dishes where the main ingredients are vegetables. Puddings are a little more

difficult, but fruit can always be used up for breakfast, or set in jelly or fruit whips, while steamed or baked puddings can be crumbled and added to custards, pie fillings, and so on. Correct Cooking Correct methods of preparation and cooking are also of the greatest importance in preventing waste, particularly with vegetables. Vegetables are mainly important in the diet for the vitamins and minerals they contain, but, unfortunately many of the practices used in preparing and cooking vegetables result in losses of these valuable substances. Preparing vegetables long before they are needed, and soaking them in cold water, keeping them hot in the oven or •on the back of the stove, over-cooking and, above all, throwing away the cooking water should be avoided, as they all cause serious losses. Waste in peeling, cleaning, and otherwise preparing foods should be reduced to a minimum. It should be remembered, too, that foods which are well cooked and served are digested more easily and efficiently, so that the body is able to make the best use of the material it is receiving. Home Food Production and Preserving Surpluses Home production of foods eliminates the real cost of transport and marketing; it ensures that supplies are fresh when used, and it usually leads to larger quantities being available to the family than they could afford to buy. Wastes, however, are likely to occur because of difficulty in coping with seasonal surpluses. No matter

how excellent and garden-fresh the cabbages, gooseberries, or pumpkins, they become monotonous if served day after day. It is therefore most important that the farm garden should be planned to avoid gluts, and also that reliable methods of food preservation should be known and • practised. This will result in fresh supplies being available over a longer 1 period, with generous supplies of preserved foods to supplement them in times of relative scarcity. Careful Buying Careful buying helps to eliminate waste in several ways. It cuts down unnecessary waste in shops which occurs because people handle and bruise food (again fruits and vegetables particularly) which they are not going to buy. It ensures that no more is bought than can be conveniently used or stored at one period, and so cuts down losses through food going bad or deteriorating before it can' be used. It reduces the demand for luxury and out-of-season foods, which are costly in productive time and labour as well as money, and diverts it towards foods which are cheap and plentiful. It chooses appropriate grades of different commodities for the required purpose, and so maintains a balanced demand for the different grades which are inevitably produced. “Waste not, want not” is an admirable maxim which appeals to self interest. Our present appeal, however, must be to unselfishnesswe must waste not, that others may not want.

Some Facts About Diabetes

MOST of us are familiar with the word diabetes. Briefly it is a disease which prevents the body making proper use of sugar, and it afflicts many people. Certain cells in our bodies, in the pancreas gland, make a substance called insulin. This insulin passes into the blood stream and makes it possible for the body to store sugar, and when the call comes for energy it helps to convert this sugar into muscle energy.

If this agent insulin wasn’t on the job, the sugar would simply pile up in our blood instead of being stored or burnt as energy. The kidneys would be asked to try to excrete the excess of sugar in this condition. More water would be wanted to enable the excess sugar to stream out through the kidneys. The sufferer would become terribly thirsty, and hungry almost all the time, because that sugar from the carbohydrates that were consumed would not be turning into calories of energy. Instead, it would be unused and wasted. In effect, he would be eating a great deal more than usual and losing weight all the time. That, in short, is diabetes.

Predisposing Factors

Now what is it that predisposes some people to suffer from this disease? Heredity has something to do with it. It does seem to run in some families. Hence, any family in which the father or mother is diabetic will need to recognise this fact and guard against overeating and overweight, and have a medical examination from time to time.

The disease is more prevalent among those between the ages of 40 and 60, and commoner in those in that period of life who eat too much carbohydrate and sugar foods, and who are overweight.

Diabetes may come on suddenly, with a great thirst, though usually it starts gradually, with tiredness, skin irritation, and a state of no energy for anything. This weakness, coupled with a large appetite and a thirst that can’t be satisfied, and frequency of urination, drives the sufferer to the doctor. The diagnosis is easily made by testing the urine for sugar. In less severe cases the disease may be present for a long time and remain unsuspected, if there’s no medical check-up and no testing of the urine for normality.

Twenty years ago a diagnosis of diabetes condemned the patient to a life of drastic dieting, with no promise of survival of more than a few years.

New Hope In 1921 the discovery of insulin gave new hope to diabetics. It was a discovery that gave a wonderfullyincreased life span to sufferers and

Contributed by The Department of Health

has enabled them to lead almost normal lives again. Nowadays great attention is still paid to diet, but insulin has made the task easier. A diabetic is able to control his disease by proper diet, the use of insulin, and exercise. And, carrying out this con-

trol intelligently, he has a good chance of living as long with diabetes as he might without it. Science extracts the insulin, which the patient’s body can’t manufacture, from the pancreas of certain animals, and it is given to him in the form of an injection. The patient can . once again use the sugar and carbohydrate in his food, and may even, in some cases, learn to do without the added insulin after a while. While we don’t know how some people develop diabetes, we do know it hits middle-aged overweight folk more than others, and also those with an hereditary tendency. Annual medical examinations with urine test should be made a rule in diabetic families. Middle-aged overweights should eat less sugar, starch, and fat, and exercise more, and have an occasional medical overhaul.

’’l "V THEN the tenth moon is full and WHEN the tenth moon is full and bright it is time for the kumara planting, and those are the days for which I long as I pick lemons in the citrus groves of the pakeha rangatira. The wattle trees in the pa are showing a tinge of the palest yellow, so that I know Uncle Kepa will be getting out his plough to clear his land of rubbish and last year’s stalks. Then one day soon he will laugh to himself, and harness old Moko, his horse. Together they will' lend themselves to .the Maori neighbours, ploughing up the rough earth, turning the hardness to softness, sweetening the ground for the straight furrows that will hold next year’s crop of smooth pink kumaras. Bella, and all my friends, will

Peta mimics, and makes fun copying what our pakehas will say when we return to our works, and shows how we will smile and lower our eyes, saying no words, which is a good way

be taking the best of what are in the pits, putting them in their new shallow beds of sifted soil where soon they will be throwing up small tender green shoots. Little pale shoots waiting for the tenth moon. Like me, waiting also for that moon and . ... Tu ... . All those who will not lose their jobs on the dairy farms and citrus groves will help with the planting. I think of how all through the sunshine we will sow the even rows of roots pulled gently from the old kumaras. , Carrying our bundles of shoots, we move down the furrows, some making the holes, some planting, some pressing them firm, singing, laughing, but always working. All together working. Soon the patch at Bella’s place is smooth and the green lines clear in the bright light. Bella brings out food from her whare, and we talk and rest in the shade after the labours, eating good things from

(( The Month I Like Best**

AUGUST, the time of singing birds and spring flowers, when spring wakes the earth to new beauty, is the month most beloved by “Good Neighbours.” Other months, too, have their share of admirers, especially October, December, and March. First prize to “Isabel Emm,” Tauranga, for her distinctive contribution, “Kumara Moon.” Second prize to “Bee,” Timaru, and “Faraway,” Gisborne; and “Alison Grey,” Tauranga, highly commended.

Bella’s oven and from the store, too; so we are glad. Huia plants her small ground alone. She must show Toni how clever she has been when he returns from the fighting overseas, how she has made his land flourish for his children. In the heat her small dress clings, showing much of her round damp body. The men joke her for this, but Huia does not unbend her back, nor do her hands cease planting, pressing. She raises crinkled laughing friends’ eyes against the sun, but says no words. At sunset we go home, but after that maybe we go to Bella’s or Maggi’s, and make fun. Tu . . . . Tu makes music on his Spanish guitar. Lehi brings his ukelele, while Bernardo plays on his long blue comb. We sing and sometimes we dance on the marae of our pa. >

If the planting round the whares is all done and only one or two days remain of the working week, we do not then go back to our jobs. The river shines sparkling like silver where we swim and fish.

to speak when the bosses swear and rage. But my pakeha say it is no use to have the crossness. He put his shoulders up and down, telling poetry about “a heathen who smiles and a Christian who riles and it weareth the Christian down.” But me, I do not understand such meanings. One time Uncle Kepa dig a new kumara pit and Beta lie down in the hole, and fold his hands under his chin, putting out his long red tongue, rolling his big eyes to show white. The girls kneel round the pit, covering their eyes, but peeping, making keening on a high note as for a man in death. Uncle Kepa he turn to see what Beta is up to now, and shovels a lot of earth on to ' him so that he jump out quick. We all run away, falling over with laughing. Huia say the kumara planting is a good custom. She say she feels good thinking of Maoris all over this country stooping in the sunlight mak-

ing our pas fertile for the childrens. All safe and happy together. When the tenth moon comes again, Huia will wish for us to help her this time for now Toni will come back no more to his home on the hillside. And me, I get lonely picking lemons

in the citrus groves of the pakeha rangatira with only piwhakawhaka the fantail for company ... darting and wheeling . . . catching his dinner all the hot day from the air. All the year we do the pakeha’s ways except when there is a dead body for a tangi. Or maybe sometimes there is a hui. But the tenth moon is best, for it brings the kumara planting and Tu .... with his music ....

—“lsabel Emm,” Tauranga.

Second Prize

BETTER, than September’s urgent thrill, more than the lovely, mellow peace of March, I like December. Not only because the light mornings and long evenings make work easier and outdoor activities a pleasure, but for the memories and anniversaries December brings. First of all, Christmasesmany of them now.. Frosty, short days of my English childhood when we returned, parcel-laden, to blazing fires; when every room held a secret, and the age-old carols rang out on the cold air; when we emptied the full, knobbly stockings on our beds; when we glimpsed the glittering, resinscented tree in the drawing-room. Later on we trudged to early church in the dark and heard the bells ringing out to the frosty sky: “O come, all ye faithful, joyful and triumphant.” Christmas in New Zealand is warm and light, but still brings joy and a

glad message to my own children, who in their turn sing the same carols and find their hidden treasures. Then it was on Christmas Eve, our midsummer night, when magic is abroad, that romance came to me it is a sweet memory. And the following year, in December, too, the day arrived that most women remember best; a flutter of lace and veil, the scent of lilies, solemn words and sweet music, the happy laughter and excitement of a wedding. Each anniversary makes it seem close and real and precious.

Then came a year when I spent wedding anniversary and Christmas in hospital for the best reason in the world and December became a more memorable month than ever. I shall never forget that year, the delphiniums and roses and lavender in the garden, the sweet peas and carnations in the ward, and the warm, wriggling bundle that was our son.

So I look forward to December, to the glory of the flowers and the wealth of the vegetable garden, to a big boy’s birthday, to private anniversaries, to bathing and picnics and long days of haymaking, and, crowning festival of all, the birthday of that Babe of long ago: Christmas Day.— “Bee,” Timaru.

Highly Commended

MY choice is March, because of its reluctance to surrender entirely the good things that have gone before, and for the hope and challenge which it offers to the future.

Christmas, holidays, visitors, and all the events that lift us out of our usual routine can now be seen in their right perspective and become rich memories to brighten drab moments. The children are back at school, adjusted to the change-over of new books and teachers; the summer sewing is finished; the farmer is happy as he watches the completion of the last haystack. >

In the garden late roses still bloom and birds chirrup their songs to the summer-like peaceful days. Then gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, the atmosphere changes and one becomes aware of the crisp sharpness of autumn weather; the hills are more clearly defined, and the air contains a bracing quality which it lacked before.. .

In the orchard crimson apples and plums glow richly in full maturity, blackberries shine forth from unexpected hollows; and in the fields the first mushrooms appear so perfect in shape and colour that it seems a desecration to pick them. The foliage of shrubs and trees gradually changes colour, the leaves are streaked with tints of red and brown which later deepen into flame and yellow, and

underfoot lies a gold carpet. These colours suggest strength and character to us and seem to offer a triumphant acknowledgment of having overcome all difficulties; before the last leaf falls we discover the first new bud on the branch, a promise of potential life! Here and there a blue spiral of smoke rises from a pile of burning leaves. Slowly the days shorten and grow colder, and we look forward to the long evenings beside a glowing fire with a favourite book for company.—“ Alison Grey,” Tauranga.

I LOVE April best because it spells autumn. The clear golden autumn means garden fires, and swirls of sweet-smelling smoke; the storing up of logs for winter fires and the gathering in of apples; drifts of autumn crocuses and mellow days; afternoon walks in a crisp merry breeze, scrunching through heaps of fallen “Snowy,” Port Nelson.

I THINK most of us experience one period in the year when we feel fully attuned with the universe, when we are bubbling with energy and life is a glorious adventure. With me it is when winter and the first rawness of spring are over. In November the keen east winds are routed, the early summer blooms are gladdening our hearts, and Nature’s fundamental purpose is being fulfilled. Through the luminous green haze of larch and birch I can see newly-shorn sheep browsing in cool, clean grass paddocks

across which cloud shadows ripple. Hawthorn hedges creamy with scented bloom, slender sentinel poplars, graceful willows, sombre pines, and oaks blend in a symphony of green. I love November — comes “Before the sun has power To scorch the world up in his noontide . hour.'” “Cloudy,” Ashburton. SPRING and August are synonymous, for it is in August that Mother Nature wakens from her winter sleep. There is beauty everywhere, in the soft morning mists, the shimmering green willows that line the creek banks, in the first bursting buds of the' clematis. Young animals are all about the farm — lambs and wobbly-legged" calves, and piglets, and in the kennel a new litter of puppies makes whimpering sounds. All these small creatures have a great appeal for — “Parnteea,” Northland. HERE in my mountain home where the seasons are so extreme I have grown to look for March. To me March means autumn and cooler, restful days after summer’s tiring heat. In these few weeks we look back on the busy season of summer, the long hours >of sheep work, the fruit gathering, the thousand and one jobs, all pleasant enough if only it

TO YOU WHO PASS BY \TE who pass by and would raise your * hand against me, harken ere you harm me. I am the heat of your hearth on the cold winter nights; the friendly shade screening you from the summer sun; and my fruits are refreshing draughts quenching your thirst as you journey on. I am the beam that holds your house, the board of your table, the bed on which you lie, and the timber that builds your boat. I am the handle of your hoe, the door of your homestead; the wood of your cradle, and the shell of your coffin. I am the bread of kindness and the flower of beauty. Ye who pass by listen to my player: HARM ME NOT.

were cooler. Now we have seen that the sheep and cattle are ready for the cold months ahead, that the larder is well stocked. We all need a quiet breathing space at some time of the year. So in lovely, sedate March, when the dull golds and mellow browns of autumn steal down our misty gorges, I think on the words of Wordsworth: — “Ne’er saw I, never felt a calm so deep, The river glideth at his own sweet will,

Dear God! the very houses seem asleep, And all this mighty heart is lying still.” \ —'“High Country,” Tekapo. ONCE I saw a picture of four graces depicting the , seasons. Autumn was a fairy clad in autumnal shades; Winter looked rather icy in her cold beauty; Summer, yellow bright, with the dazzle of a midsummer’s day, but Spring was a fresh young maiden delicately draped in the loveliest, lightest green, and eternally young. — “R.E.E.,” Auckland. THE orchard is a place of fairylike beauty in August with the delicate pink and white of peach and apple blossom etched against a soft spring sky, and the pearly whiteness of plum blossom falling like snow at every vagrant breeze. And over all sounds the drowsy murmur of ' the bees as they go from flower to flower, gathering their sweet harvest. — “Hope.” JUNE is the only month that I can have a little time to call my own. Besides catching up on the darning, mending, and letter writing, I have an opportunity to study a few garden books so that ' when spring arrives I know exactly what to put in and where to plant — “Honey Bee,” South Canterbury.

Competitions OCTOBER The competition for October is “In What Way Would You Improve Rural Living?” Closing date, October 15. NOVEMBER The other day a small , boy confided to me what he intended asking Santa Claus to bring him this December. This set me to thinking of some of the Yuletide gifts I had received in past years. My earliest recollection is of waking up and finding a doll almost as big as myself at the foot of the bed. Then there was the Christmas I became the proud owner of a tennis racquet; nor . have I forgotten the thrill of opening a small tissue-wrapped package and discovering my first wrist-watch; but perhaps the most exciting present of all was bestowed on me after I reached adult yearsboat tickets for a trip abroad. Out of the many Christmas presents that have been yours, I want you to choose the four which have given you the greatest joy. There will be a prize of 10/- for the most interesting selection and the second prize will be 5/-. “CHRISTMAS PRESENTS.” November 15 is the last day for receiving entries. “MARY,” “Journal of Agriculture,” Box 3004, Wellington.

Be tall For there are stars to touch And worlds undreamed above a lifted spire. Be straight For there are others around Who, crowded, cannot reach what they aspire. Be green For he is always young Who holds eternal parley with the Spring. Be glad So that all lovely things Within your joyous boughs may rest and sing. Be strong For there are winds that blow And long to tear away your plumed crest.

Ideal Holiday

MY ideal holiday was one which mv parents three brothers and P , ’ • , ’■ „ myself spent a year or two before the war, touring the South Island by car. We reached Lyttelton on the morning of the third day of our trip from Auckland. It was a gloriously clear day and from Christchurch we set off, the following three weeks being simply delightful. The car sped over the plains and later across

the Mackenzie Country, past the memorial to James Mackenzie, and on to the foothills of the Alps. The lakes were beautiful. I vividly remember the quaint little church standing back a bit on a small rise above the shores of Lake Tekapo. The large plate-glass window beyond the altar overlooked the glimmering silver mirror of the lake, which reflected part of the ragged, endless line of challenging, towering peaks rising above the glittering fields of ice and snow. We skirted the shores of the lake for an hour or two, and later reached the Hermitage, where we camped in the shadow of Mount Cook. The days were quite warm but the nights cool and fresh. The solemn stillness was disturbed occasionally by the distant thunder of an avalanche. The wind

Stand fast And you will some day hold The wisdom of the ages in your breast. Be true That men will upward look, Unto that spire which, rising from the sod, Has grown When it is tall with years Into an anthem on the hills of God.

The groves were God’s first temples.— William Bryant. Art Eastern snnn Twilight upon my path And for mine inn to-night The shadow of a tree And for mine host a flower.

moaned and whistled as it swept down the bush-clad valley, the tents flapped, and sometimes there would be the screech of a hawk or kea. Christmas Day we spent tramping over the hills and hollows of the Tasman Glacier, just below the treacherous Hochstetter icefall, which is strikingly picturesque. The wonderful scenery of this district is very similar to that of Switzerland with its towering, majestic mountains, its extensive forests, and lovely green hills sloping down to beautifully clear, still lakes.

(Tant' jftflafjuta

HERE the dark branches drop downward so slimly Through the mist dimly Tane Mahuta goes o’er the hilltop. Red leaves are shaken by passing fingers And in the river-air swift feet awaken Leaf scent that lingers. Fern flower and tree bower shade not his resting-place, Nor shall the passer-by see his brown forest face Turned to the chill blue sky. ’Tis Tane Mahuta! Atua! The dim! Magic his ghostly hands— Whisper the name of him low in the woodlands. For he invisibly turns as he passes Summer to sorrow down yellow grasses And brings rain tomorrow. —Mary R. Gullery.

There are the twisted hawthorn trees Thickset with buds as clear and pale As golden water or green hale— As if a storm of rain had stood Enchanted in the thorny wood, And hearing faery voices call, Hung poised, forgetting how to fall.

—Mary Webb.

We passed on to Queenstown, where we spent whole days swimming, boating, and picnicking by the lake. I remember the lovely colours of the surrounding mountains, the cool wind on the hillside track, the cottage in the flowered glen, the bleating of a sheep, and the lowing of the roaming cattle. Another day was spent in the Eglinton Valley— glistening silver spray of a waterfall, the frequent squalls and the densely-clad hills were sights never to be forgotten. — “ Helen,” Auckland.

THANK you, “Molly,” for sharing your biscuit recipes with us. I am longing to try them. I wonder how many “Good Neighbours” have read that booklet of verse, “This, My Son,” by Joan. Kinmont. It tells of an only son, his babyhood, his growing up and entering the Air Force, and his death in action. For his mother the light goes out until she discovers that he is not far away and has only passed from sight "‘Dear one, at last I know That you are near And there is no more pain. Nor shall I grieve For this, my son, was dead And is alive again.” “Peggy.” I WAS pleased to see an old friend of mine in tne July —George MacDonald’s “Song of Degrees.” Would the sender, “Caradon,” mind if I say that she omitted the last four lines—these form the perfect climax “When to love is all thy wit, Christ doth at thy table sit — When God’s will is thy heart’s pole, Then is Christ thy very soul.” If she does not know these lines, perhaps she would like to have them. — “Sue.” I ALWAYS enjoy reading about the doings and sayings of children. I was making up the spare room bed the other day when my neighbour’s kiddies came in and asked who was coming. I explained that I was expecting our Grandma, and added

c YFlanty's at - (Home -

proudly that she had thirteen children. The small boy gazed at the one small bed and enquired: ‘"ls she going to bring them all with her?” I hastily said “No, they are all grown up now.” I also remarked that she was a very old lady. What a shock I got when the little girl said gravely, “Is she as old as you?”— WE now have a wee son. How wonderful it is to watch his mind awakening and his body developing, and what a responsibility is ours to see that he is brought up to put first things first and live a useful life. —“Pet.” I DON’T think there is ever a slack time on the farm, for when the busy outdoor season is over so much work has accumulated indoors that one is snowed under with jobs waiting to be done. Still, a busy life is a happy one, and there is much for which to be thankful. When I feel weary at the end of a strenuous day I think of the many who would give anything to be able to work. It. is good to know that our dear ones in the homeland are now free from the terror of bombs. May victory in the Pacific soon be a reality, and then it will be the task of us all to see that peace is an established fact. It will not be an easy task and will need vision, faith, great understanding, and forbearance. “ Effie.” WHAT a thrill it was to receive a W postal note for the snap of my three-year-old Brian. It was a great joy to see his smiling face next to

‘Biddi-Jan’s” little Peter. What would we do without photos! I have several albums —they help one to relive past. pleasures and recall forgotten incidents. My old camera has proved a faithful friend. Years ago my brothers and I set out to clear the rabbits off our father’s farm. By trapping and poisoning we often got as many as two hundred a day. We divided them between us and each skinned our own share, and with the proceeds from the sale of my skins I bought a camera. I still use it to this day and would not part with it for anything. The things we work hard to get mean most to us, don’t they? “Fruffy.”

{ALWAYS enjoy your pages, as do thousands of other country women. There is a freshness and wholesome-

WHITE GUMS

There is a harmony of straight, white gums On the arch of a night sky deeply black and serene, A cool slow breeze astir in a pattern of leaves With a few fine stars beating gold fire between. Here there is peace in the rustle of paddock grasses, And the stir of shadows that waken and move at their sigh Over the pavements, worn with the passing of hundreds, Now quiet, grey and deserted under the sky.

Rita O’Brien.

ness about them, which, I think, reflects the quality of country life, part of the goodness of the soil itself, always found in those who live close to “J.W.” I KEEP a scrap-book of interesting items from the books and papers I read. Here is one extract: “It is a great source of happiness to be associated with people who are trying, however imperfectly, to make a better world.” Another one is called “Laugh and Be Merry.” “Laugh and be merry: remember, better the world with a song, Better the world with a blow in the teeth of a wrong. Laugh, for time is brief, a thread the length of a span.. Laugh, and be proud to belong to the old proud pageant of man.” “1.R.”

I’VE been writing my competition essay and thinking of all the birds we saw on Stewart Island. I thoroughly enjoyed “Dame Nature’s Minstrels” —birds are so fascinating. Do you ever long to set free birds cooped up in cages which are much too small?

At present we have no bird pets and I have made a vow that we won’t have any until there is a big roomy aviary built round a growing tree or some shrubs. — “Cloudy.” VERY wet days are with us at present, and a cold snap of hail was not pleasant today, although son was intrigued to see the fields so white. I hope it is all over and done with before the new lambs arrive.

How wise of “Rayna” just to sit and rest at evening. So many folk nowadays have lost the art of relaxation, and it amazes me the number of people I meet who fidget and can’t keep still. Even winter in its resting bids us pause a while. In my recent garden reading I came across the following:

“I, singularly moved

To love the lovely that are not

beloved, Of all the seasons most ; Love Winter.” I, too, love winter for its cosy fires and cheery companionshipbut won’t spring be grand! “Roundabout.” NEVILLE and Michael undertook to stir some cream for their mother, and when the buttermilk had come mother .said, “Now put the butter in the colander and turn the tap on it to wash it.” All was quiet. She went to see what had happened and found two serious little boys. Neville looked up at his mother: “Well, Michael said it would come a lot cleaner if you washed it in hot water, so I did, and it’s all gone!” Alas! for the precious butter it had gone down the drain.— “E.M.H.”

MAY I join your circle? We used to have a farm, but had to sell up when my husband joined the forces. ' He did not return. We moved to town, but have a glorious view and can see right over to where we used to live. I can see both town and country from my windows, and often see a rainbow stretch from town to country. To me it is a promise of

HOME CORRESPONDENT 71 Stockbridge Road, ♦ Winchester, Hants., } England. | • May 12, 1945.

Dear Mary,

Do you think you can help me? I would love to have a New Zealand woman correspondent, and thought maybe you could put me in touch with somebody interested. Incidentally, today is my 43rd birthday. I am interested in gardening, home-making, the cinema, and life in general.

A friend’s colleague gave me the “Journal of Agriculture” for my son, an agricultural student, now serving in the Royal Navy. 1 found lots in the “Journal” to interest me; the recipes for pud--1 dings (Nov. 15, 1944) were very helpful, although the walnuts and coconut mentioned certainly made my mouth water. Walnuts are a rarity in England now-a-days, and of course coconuts are not now imported. Well, Mary, I expect you are a very busy person, so will bring my appeal to a close; thanking you in anticipation of your help.

ours sincerely, ( Sgd.) Iris M. Jones. , “Good Neighbours” who desire a British penfriend should find Mrs. Jones an interesting cor-

respondent.-

. —Mary.

the unity that must come one day. My sons are both taking the agricultural course at school, so I, too, read the farming magazines. What I really miss is the sound of the sheep. Dogs we • have in plenty, birds too, and flowers and scenery. But I miss the indescribable something about country life, that bond of belonging to a great band of homemakers. Perhaps I can recapture it again by joining your circle. — “Tip Cat.” TO my mind one of the most picturesque places in the North Island is Whangaroa Harbour, which lies amid outcrops of volcanic rock. Some of these rocks look like huge

medieval castles, and the “mushroom” rocks are almost, worn through by tidal action. The forested slopes of the Herekino Gorge form another beautiful scene, with tree ferns towering above the lesser growth of the forest, and groves of graceful nikau palms flourishing in many places.— “Baffle.”

SOME years ago I had a trip to Fiji. We had a wonderful time in Suva, visiting native villages, also markets where silks, trinkets, long ropes of tobacco, fruit, etc., were sold by unsmiling Indians who were such a contrast to the cheery Fijians. A native feast was prepared for us and we had cooked fowls, taro, bananas, and green coconuts which the natives opened with the twist of a knife. The

coconuts were full of delicious milk, a splendid thirst-quencher. Before the feast we were presented with flower leis, and the ceremonial kava was prepared. Everyone had to take a sip from a half coconut shell.

The trip I liked best was one to the coral reef. We went out in boats and were given glass-bottomed tins to put in the —thus we could see .the bright-coloured fish moving among the coral — “Linda.”

THE bush beneath the light of the moon, is a, haunting, bewitching place, almost uncanny with its grey shadows, dark, swaying trees, and the silver moonbeams dancing among the leaves. Some of the taller trees are like long, grotesque fingers pointing to the Southern Cross above. — “Valancy.”

FOR a long time now I have been reading and enjoying other people’s paragraphs and essays in your pages. I think you keep your topics very bright 'and varied, and I am always pleased to find the “Journal” in the mail. For a pen-name I have chosen “Early Dawn,”. which is the English version of “Te Moata,” the name of our farm. — “Early Dawn.”

IN the recent book competition there was an entry by “5.J.M.,” Hicks Bay, which to me was outstanding. Her selection of books appealed to me— have read and enjoyed practically all of them, and have copies of most of them. It is rare these days to find -someone whose tastes in literature run parallel to one’s own. — “E.L.”

I AM pleased that the cover design of the “Journal” has been changed —I had been thinking it was about time that those two able-bodied farmers holding up that fence got back to work! The new cover design is excellent and should inspire us all to try and produce more than ever.— “Glendine.”

I’M still not used to the “’personal” touch that exists among New Zealanders. Maybe it did exist in the country districts at home, but I came from a large town (130,000 population) and there was not the same spirit prevailing. I much prefer the friendliness here, and your circle does make one feel that one is not buried in the country and forgotten. My spare time is mostly occupied with spinning and letter-writing, for I carry on a large correspondence with friends and relations in .England. I was delighted with the comprehensive article on spinning and dyeing in a recent issue, and hope to try some natural dyes soon. The list of mordants was a great help. I am longing to get a loom, but must be-

come really experienced at spinning first. — “Homespun.” IDO think the “chats” by readers give us a human interest in our fellow-beings. We are too prone to take our neighbours for granted, when sometimes taking a little more interest in their daily life would bring to light a common interest. — MAY I join your circle? I try to be a good neighbour, though I can’t go visiting with three small children, and the milking, etc., to be done. Here we are “in the bush.” It

is half a mile to the nearest house and there is no electricity, so I have to use candles and kerosene lamps. We have had no wireless till recently, so life has been very — “Mary Anne.” MAY I join your happy circle? I have been reading your pages for some time and have gained some useful ideas from them. The articles on the drying and preserving of fruit and vegetables were most interesting, and I hope to make more use of the drying process in the future. “Scotty.”