The River Runs through it

Tall chestnut trees line the opposite bank of the river that runs through Mandy's property.  Unfortunately, the chestnut season is at its very end in August when I visit, and new leaves are already sprouting.

Her neighbour Francis has the most spectacular hydrangeas, or Christmas Roses, as we call them.  Francis is very generous, and invites us over every Christmas morning to pick armfuls for our Christmas table.   We add some of Mandy's agapanthus and lavender, some Dorothy Perkins climbing roses, open a bottle of JC le Roux Champagne and then all of a sudden, it's Christmas! 

Mandy calls them "see perdjies" (sea horses).   A rose by any other name would smell as sweet!  Don't know their actual name, but I love all purple and blue flowers.

This beautiful spot is enjoyed by the local bird life as well, with the peacocks and guinea fowls taking prime position, being fed by all the families who live along the river.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QpoAtjNNdwE


But back to the chestnuts.   Here's the "other story" I hinted at in an earlier post.


I know summer is finally over here in Hong Kong when street vendors pop up all over and the smell of roasting chestnuts and sweet potatoes fill the late afternoon.

Mandy has never tasted Chestnuts before, so I wanted her to experience it.   I suggested we go to down to the river and pick up the fallen chestnuts.


Bad idea.

She charged the river bank like a woman possessed, slid down the slippery bank, lost her footing, nearly had her arm cut off by a protruding fence wire, all the while cautioning ME not to follow suit.   I didn't know what to do.   Threw down the camera, ran back to the house, and returned with oven mittens and tongs.   Yeah, I know, big help I am.
I tried in vain to convince her to come back.   She just ignored me and did her harvesting with complete disregard for the thorny, prickly chestnuts.  
I picked up a few near my feet, feeling very useless and pathetic.

We spent the next few hours battling to shell the chestnuts - trying everything from hammers, pliers, axes, stones and rocks.   I marvelled at the intense labour that goes into producing a warm, sweet, roasted chestnut and vowed never to complain about the price again.
Finally the chestnuts were ready to be roasted in the oven.   I painstakingly cut a cross on the underside of every chestnut, pricked a few holes and baked them for about 20 minutes, eagerly anticipating that earthy smell I have grown to love so much.

When I took them out of the oven, I was totally disgusted, disappointed, and pissed off!!!
They were all rotten inside.   All I had to show were some photos.  

I helped Mandy to disinfect the wound on her arm and poured her a stiff drink.   The next holiday we didn't even look at the trees.   We are now shunning them.