What Is a Warkworth?

First, an two-pronged apology. The first is for not including a photo on this blog. The reason is simple. I "upgraded" my Windows and now cannot download my photos. Just assume that my photo of the growth of the chicks has occurred. The second prong is that I have not written for some time. My computer crashed and my rotator cuff still bothers me. Still, I'm sorry.

Okay, here is this month's update. All the older hens have been humanely dispatched to the great scratching ground in the sky. We waited literally months but no eggs equals no hens. The 10 chicks appear thrilled to no longer be terrorized by the big bullies.

Our 3 steers are not working out well at all. They came puny and remain puny. Not too puny however. When Dan and Yael tried to treat them for possible parasites/worms, one crashed through our fence and romped off with our neighbor's herd. A second smashed the gates. The third took his medicine meekly. It was an unbelievable drama to get #1 back and I personally can't wait for him to become hamburger.

Anyway: What is a Warkworth. Warkworth is the small town I live in. In the summer months (which is what we have now in the Southern hemisphere) our small town is overrun with tourists and weekenders. It is almost impossible to find a place to park. If you are one of the blessed few, the parking is free. (I told you it was a small town!). I have a book club meeting on the 1st Wed. of the month - today - and after much circling and muttering I parked in a 10 minute space and hoped the parking police were busy elsewhere.

About 20 minutes into the meeting, a librarian ran over and whispered that the traffic guys were getting a cup of tea in the break room before grabbing their hand-held computers and sashaying forth to spread a little Xmas cheer.

Three women recommended that I park (as they do) in the nearby supermarket lot. They assured me that they had never had a problem. Well, I was stuck so I took their advice. After the meeting was over I went into the supermarket to buy something. Guilt is a powerful force. I met all 3 women in there also buying stuff. No wonder they'd never had a problem. Neither would I if I continued to shop there. But that's a small town: the parking is free but scant and those of us who live here feel guilty about taking advantage of the shops and buy things we don't really need to say thank you.

You just have to love New Zealand and the small town mentality. At least I do!