Grandchildren

 Mokopuna (Maori for "Grandchildren")

Last Friday we left home and travelled part way toward Christchurch, a city way North of Dunedin, where our son, Simon lives with his wife and three children. Google tells me it is 364 Kilometres from our house. We arrived on Saturday morning and spent some time with them. Then on the Sunday we went around to their place and just relaxed with them for the day. 

I enjoyed playing Jenga with my Grandson. I enjoyed sitting in the sun just chatting with him... he turns 8 in a few days time. I enjoyed Jenga with our grand daughter who is 5 years old, and getting to know the youngest in the family. We simply had a good time relaxing on a sunny Sunday with these children. Then on Monday we packed up and drove home, calling at my brother's for lunch at about the half-way mark. 

We had our Grandchildren from Wellington staying over Christmas, and we regularly Skype with three grandchildren in Edinburgh. So in all we have eight grandchildren all living at a distance from us - Christchurch, Wellington and Edinburgh. Because of Covid 19 and the mixed up 2020 year we did not really catch up with them last year as much as we would normally. As I drove home I could not help but think about how very different they are and yet we love and enjoy each one. I get jealous of people we know who have grandchildren living close by, but that is the way it is. I just thought I'd share some photos.

Edinburgh three.  Maori-Samoan/Polish children with a Scottish accent. Full of life!

Wellington  Sister and brother... creative... energetic.... enjoy NZ bush. (With their mother)

Christchurch  three....

Another year is cranking up.

 The start of 2021 has had its challenges. I have had a sore back, (thankfully improving) car troubles, two funerals to lead, my wife had acute appendicitis followed by an operation and yesterday, I led my first Church service for the year.  

Square peg effect

After the Church service I had a long nap. I had put a lot of preparation and thought into it, partly for my own edification to check that I know what I am saying. My theology does not aline with traditional creedal statements, but at the same time I try not to destroy the faith others have, so leading worship is like walking a tight rope. It was encouraging because even though we are a small group, nearly every one of the normal attenders were at Church so it felt like a full congregation. On the Saturday night I was working on the service, sorting out the power-points and the children's segment. That means that I go to bed with my mind still going over stuff, sleep doesn't come easily and wakeful periods during the night happen. After lunch on Sunday I went and had a catch up nap.  It looks like I'll be busy twice a month this year like last year, but there is a person from the hierarchy of the Presbyterian Church working with the Parish Council, so it might change.  The Biblical passage  for the day was from Mark, when Jesus was introducing his "Kingdom of Heaven" message and calling disciples to follow him. I am still hooked on Jesus and, damn it, he's somehow still calling. Sleepless nights and Sunday naps will continue.  Today, Monday, my wife and I had a cup of coffee in a hardware store. While leaving the cafe I met a progressive-thinking Baptist minister I know who had been involved in chaplaincy at one time.  He of course does not fit easily into the Baptist denomination. He told me that he had given his resignation at his little church where he has a part time ministry. It is a small church but it has been doing a lot of good community work. He thinks it may mean the end of the Church there. It is sad because I recall when I was just starting Primary School at 5 years of age, watching that Church being built. I asked if we could get together for a cup of coffee.  He expresses similar values and perspectives as I do and I know that as a minister, it is not always easy to find people like that. In secular NZ we have a beautiful forward thinking society but it can be a lonely journey for those of us non-conservative thinkers, who still think the way of Jesus is relevant. 

"Bill" died.

I had a message from the wife of a fire fighter. She is a niece to a man I have known for well over thirty years. We'll call him "Bill". Bill had various issues. He was an alcoholic, a hoarder, and an avid gambler among other issues. I had helped him lots of times down the years and had spent a lot of time alongside of him.  With my van I had helped move him from various places, because landlords did not tolerate his hoarding. The first time sadly was from his father's old cottage in a seaside village near Dunedin. He and his father had shared the cottage, but when his father died he couldn't keep up the mortgage payments so had to shift. I remember getting a load in the van. "Bill" had an old car which was unregistered and did not have a required Warrant of Fitness. He loaded it to the hilt. It was full to overflowing. He had stuff tied to the roof and boot and things sticking out of the window. I was following him into town on the motorway when a traffic-policeman passed my van and then his car. "Oh no!" I thought, "He will go for a skate. He'll get pulled over for sure!"  But to my absolute surprise the police car just kept driving by! "Yeah," said "Bill", "I saw him, had me wondering, but no sweat, we survived!" like it was no big deal.  He used to regularly attend our drop-in centre and he would often promise that he was going to sort himself out "next week". I actually enjoyed his company. When he was staying with a lady he had met, he fixed up her garden and fixed up a boat shed she had. I gladly used my van to cart building materials to the boat shed (secondhand stuff he had scrounged from demolition sites) and weeds away from his gardening efforts. I thought it was good that he was using his skills and time well. Unfortunately the friendship came unstuck when she discovered some of her household items for sale in a local second hand shop. I stored some of his stuff here at my house for a long time, dumping some of it when he had forgotten about them. He knew I would not give him money, but he knew I respected him and would help him in any way I could.  He used to ask for me to pray with him every Christmas. He had a son who was killed in a motorbike accident one Christmas eve and his father also died I think on a boxing day. One night we were talking. "You know Dave, we're not much different you know?" "How?" I asked. "We'll we're all on a journey. Some of us are at a different place on the line, but it is basically the same journey, we all have our battles and our hassles on the way. We are all 'religious' in some way, just in a different place - 'least that's what I think anyway." He did express a gut level wisdom from time to time, born of a hard life. One night he won quite a few hundred dollars on the poky machines. He left the casino and went to a public toilet. As he stepped out of the toilet, some other "nice people" jumped him, beat him up and stole his winnings. He spent a night in hospital and bruised and beaten limped into the drop-in centre the next Friday night. Another time he decided to save money on accommodation and rented a garage for $13 a week to store his stuff. He had a couch in the garage amongst his "treasures" and that was where he slept each night. On a cold frosty night I hated dropping him off there, but it was his choice.  As he got older he was installed at a rest home and found that the lack of freedom was hard going. He apparently "escaped" one day with his walker, and caught a bus to a different city hoping to stay at a Salvation Army shelter he knew there. Unfortunately he discovered that the shelter had closed some years ago and the searching police brought him back the next day. I had not seen him for some time. He was nearly blind toward the end and whenever I saw him, I stopped the car to talk with him, I had to tell him, "It's Dave Brown here!" because all he could see a blurry figure, but not the features. He apparently died in hospital after a fall. He was 82 years old. He had led a colourful and yet somehow sad life. He could have been so much more creative, but I loved him, we were friends on the journey of life. We had a some good laughs together and lots of chats. I may be involved in a little service for him though technically he was brought up a Roman Catholic. Below is a picture of him some years ago now, in a corner, resting with a cup of tea at our Friday night drop-in centre. 

Summer Days in NZ

It is mid summer in New Zealand. Today our little church went to a barbecue/picnic at a member's lifestyle farm up the hill from our place. It rained at the beginning, but pretty soon the sun came out and I got burnt. Great walks and talks. Very enjoyable.

Garden Goodness

A big broccoli in our garden. I have 80 square metres in vege garden. I love the fresh vegetables.

Our plum trees have been knocked around by strong winds just as the fruit was forming and Kereru (Wood Pigeons) love eating the fruit. But we'll get some for plum jam.

A pear tree we planted many years ago. This year it is laden with fruit.

We have several apple trees and again this year we have heaps of fruit ripening. We love having fruit, eggs and veges to give away.

Broad beans... I enjoy eating them raw straight off the plant.

We have three walnut trees we planted. This year we have prolific fruiting.

One of our potato patches.

Rhubarb must like the new sunlight we get because of the felled trees next door.  Rhubarb and banana jam - delicious. Rhubarb and apple crumble - delicious or Rhubarb and ice cream. ..... We are enjoying many different vegetables from our garden. It is so good looking at your plate and knowing they came off our land.

An intended blog that will never be a blog....

Many weeks ago a conversation I had with two blokes at one of my chaplaincy sites had me asking the question, "What is 'spiritual' and what is 'religion'?" I began writing it up in a Word document thinking it would be a blog post.... and I kept writing.... and writing... and writing. I kept coming back to it and editing it, and adding bits and writing some more and restructuring it.  I got on to confessing my heretical theology and now want to write more. It has led me back to peruse some of the writers who have influenced me and then to begin to read one particular book through again. It is so far 9000 words long so I guess it will never be a blog. But it is an enjoyable exercise to be involved in.  I'm not sure who will read it, but it is important that I do it. At one stage I was writing and thought to myself, "This will never be a blog post. It is too long. Why am I doing it?" My answer in my head was "Its important that you do it!" It reminded me that once I was on a roster to present a radio church half hour on a local community radio station every five weeks I think it was. It involved quite a lot of preparation and even though I most often enjoyed doing it I asked the producer, "How many people listen to this anyway?" He was not able to tell me but said, "We are a community radio station. It isn't important how many listen, but it is important that you as a part of the community present it." That was true and is true for this document I am doing.  Now that I have started, it is important that I do it. I led a funeral the other day and a woman from my old church sat down beside me after it. She asked if I was still preaching. I said "yep". Then she said, "Are you still reading and thinking like you used to?" Again I said, "Yes ... I think I'm even more of a heretic these days Olga." She grinned and said, "I think there are a lot of us like that." I'll have company when I'm being burned at the stake. 

 Happy New Year to all my readers... we hope that 2021 will be a better year throughout the world. But on the evening of 11th January I put this on my facebook page.... 

"We all longed for 2021. But it is only 11 days old.... Various strains of Covid are running rampant in UK, USA and other countries. We have an attempted coup/ revolution in the USA. In the last four days I have conducted two funerals and in between spent a day in ED with my wife and she has had an operation - back home on Sunday- ..doing well... but can I fast forward to 2022?"

"Revolution"

I took that word from one of the women who was interviewed after storming the Capitol in the USA. She was obviously in pain with sore eyes and was quite indignant. "We stepped inside and they maced me! They maced me? ... I just stepped inside." The interviewer asked her name and where she had come from and why? "This is a revolution!" she said. "We are taking over!" Well that never happened. I had thought that all the misinformation about the election and the vitriol would end up in such a mess. It is REALLY sad and I suspect it is not over. I sincerely hope that the new administration can make a difference for good and bridge the divides within society in the United States.

"Covid 19".

Life is normal really in New Zealand. Of course it is difficult to get into the country and to leave the country. There are hold ups in imported stuff arriving and people arriving in the country have to isolate at hotels set up for the purpose and have tests etc. The new strains of Covid 19 are scary and today the NZ government are insisting on people flying to our country having tests before they get on their flight! But I know that in the UK things are going berserk. Numbers contracting the disease and numbers dying are on the increase and the health system is stretched to the max. We have a son, daughter-in-law and three gorgeous grandchildren in Edinburgh so we eagerly await every Skype session we have. In spite of vaccines, Covid 19 is still causing mayhem in our world.

What a weekend!

On Sunday 3rd of January our Brother-in-law, Bob, died. He had been battling brain tumor issues for about three years. About mid year three years ago he was told that he only had a few months to live and wouldn't make Christmas. He just didn't know which few months they were. He has in a very calm way taken one day at a time and lasted a lot longer than expected. He is my wife's, sister's husband. He had been in care for about 6 months at a rest home and just before Christmas he went into the Emergency Department at Dunedin Hospital. He was sent back to the rest home and cared for in a hospice room. They had always said that I would lead his funeral when it happened. So my wife and I headed out to Mosgiel, a township about 11 miles away from Dunedin, to spend a day with his wife and sort out funeral issues. It took a week of working out because three of his children and their children lived in Australia and could not come to the funeral. On Friday we gathered at the funeral home where I led proceedings, my wife and daughter read two messages from family in Australia, and my daughter had prepared and printed the service sheets. Relatives in Australia could tune in from there. It was an exhausting week. Bob was a landscape gardener with a lot of experience and skill. He also loved hunting rocks and fossils, collecting stamps, journalling, collecting toy vehicles, and enjoying nature. He was 89 years old.

Funeral number two.

On the day that Bob died, I had a phone call from the senior officer at the fire station informing me that a retired fire fighter's wife had suffered a cardiac event and died. She was just 64 years old and had retired a month or so earlier. I knew the man well but was confident he would not involve me in the funeral. I said confidently to the officer, "He's a good Catholic boy, he'll have a priest involved!" I did, however, drop an email to the firefighter to express condolences and promised to call on him. I got a warm reply that night, but later in the week I got a further email asking if I would lead the funeral the next Monday? Of course I said "Yes" and found time to spend a couple of hours with him and his four adult children sorting out funeral issues and learning about her. (I had never met her.) I promised to get back to them and call again on Saturday. .... On Monday just after midday I led the funeral in a packed chapel, with heaps of retired fire fighters joining a big number of current fire fighters at the funeral. .... but...

"I am a bit sore.."

Early on the Friday morning my wife commented that she was "a bit sore" on the right side of her stomach. We went to the funeral then back to her sisters place to socialise, but when we got home she declared she didn't want dinner, was "still sore" and would go straight to bed. The next morning when she was still sore we rang the Doctor and talked with him. He said to go to the Emergency Department at the hospital, so away we went. There we waited, and waited and waited. Nurses took all the readings, a doctor arrived and said she thought it was appendix troubles, but we had to wait for a surgeon to come and confirm things. Teenagers mucking around on the Friday night had caused an accident and surgeons were dealing with two critically injured patients from that. Eventually one was freed to come and she organised for Jean to be admitted, then to have a scan and late on the Saturday night, she was operated on. I had called the funeral family and told them the predicament and said I would meet them on Sunday. Jean came home on Sunday lunchtime and I left to meet the family. I worked till late that night on the funeral and started again early the next morning. Thankfully all went well. It finished with an internment at a country cemetery, where we had to cope with a very strong and cold wind. I went home absolutely exhausted from my week's work.

I decided if this was 2021, maybe we could fast forward to 2022?

Three things...

• You really do not know what is around the corner. I guess I predicted that Donald Trump's tenure would end in a disaster. In talking with an American firefighter now living in NZ we both wondered if violence would break out when the State's votes were certified, but it was shocking to see. I knew I had to lead Bob's funeral but we did not know when that would be... and our plans for the week went out the window. Certainly too, my retired fire fighter was looking forward to twenty years of retirement with his younger wife, but that will not happen.
• I wonder if that teenage driver had a clue about the flow on impact of his driving? My wife's appendix became increasingly and dangerously inflamed while we waited for a surgeon. I guess there were others in the ED also waiting for a surgeon. Do we think about the whole consequences of our actions? Thankfully she is fine now.
• From both funeral services I have received really good compliments about how I led them. A niece said, "You've still got it! You have a gift." I've received emails from Australian relatives and after the ceremony was swamped by people wanting to affirm what I had done. Monday's funeral was the same. It felt like the fire fighters - who are certainly not religious - were proud of their chaplain and again today when I visited fire stations, many unsolicited, just shook my hand saying, "You did good. ... as you always do. Well done." I get this sort of feedback every funeral I do, and I cannot fathom what I do or say that makes the difference. I do put a lot of work and thought into each funeral. I still get nervous and worry, and especially so this time trying to prepare with two families in my mind at the same time. ... but I guess as this year has started with such a hiss and roar, I'm feeling maybe I'll really retire at the end of the year? I was really stretched to get everything done.

Getting old but still doing it.

Forestry work next door to our place

There are 50 acres of trees next to us and they are now being harvested. Truckloads of timber are going each day. The more trees they cut down, the sunnier our place will be. I love watching the amazing machinery! 

 Getting old...

It is spring, nearly summer in New Zealand now and I have been doing a lot of work in my big vegetable garden. It has involved a lot of digging and planting. I notice that what I used to do very quickly and with no physical bother, now takes a little longer and I end up sore. As well as the garden I have been helping my daughter and son-in-law with some renovation/ DIY work. We spent three days in a row recently hammering framing and putting up gib board. (I think they call it "rock wall" in the USA.) I enjoy it. With all this physical work I somehow hurt my back right between the shoulder blades. I had a sore vertebrae and a very sore arm. I went to the doctor and he checked me out. "You have stretched or torn a muscle." and he gave me pain killers. I knew that was right, but I was sure something more was wrong with a disk, that it was not only a muscle problem. Then I started to feel two of my fingers on my right hand go numb. We phoned him and left a message. He took awhile to get back to us. He was in the process of impatiently telling me that I need to be patient, "the muscles won't heal in a hurry - six weeks I told you!" I then said, "My concern is that I am losing feeling in two fingers in my right hand and partway up my arm." "Oh!" he said, "You better come in." Three days later I visited him and he found a vertebrae that was tender. He said that obviously a nerve was damaged. He referred me to another doctor who he said would get me a scan. I have ended up with an appointment date that is still nearly four weeks away! I told my wife that everything will have settled down by then, but I'll still have a numb hand for the rest of my life.  So I have half my left foot numb from a lower back prolapsed disk a year or so ago, and now half my right hand numb from what ever has happened in my upper back. I have a shaky right hand I think from thyroid issues and now yet another doctor has given me ointment for "sun spots" on my skin. All in all, I am starting to feel like an old man, though I still think of myself as younger. It is the passage of life. I have shop keepers asking, "Are you O.K. lifting that?" and I do notice stuff I used to lift easily, now takes more effort. "Gracefully surrendering the things of youth" or "rage, rage against the dying of the light!" 

Still doing it...

I have been arguing with myself about whether I ought to give up workplace chaplaincy. I visit the local ambulance people, the fire stations and a brewery. It is only a few hours spaced out over three days each week. Sometimes I'll visit and wonder if it was all worth it. I have also thought that the workforce in each place is getting younger, and maybe as an old man I am not the best fit. With the end of the year approaching I have been contemplating really retiring. But then there are those conversations where you think, "Well that was worthwhile!" Last week I went to one place. A woman said, "I'm going for a break, come with me.... come on, keep up Dave, I haven't got long!" We went to a more isolated place and she let off steam. She unloaded her frustrations and anger. I listened.. I tried to be affirming because I know that she is a conscientious worker.  After unloading she said, "Thanks Dave, I needed that." and hurried back to work. At another place a couple of weeks ago when I was in pain a man unloaded about a wider family issue. He told a sad story, that went on and on. I listened and made some comments, but I was in real pain standing with my back and arm screaming. I tried leaning against a bench. I was so sore that I was sweating. I made some suggestions, but it was such a complicated situation that it required much more than I could offer. Today I went back to his place of work. He again unloaded and we talked for quite a long time. I was in less pain, but as workplace chaplain you meet people where ever they are and that becomes your "counselling room". Today he had been working a lathe. As I went around to the different work stations, I had good conversations with so many people. I was to be there one hour, but I was there for two hours! (I was worried about getting a parking ticket) It always happens. Just when I think it might be time to give up chaplaincy, I have days or connections that feel really worthwhile and useful. One of my fire fighters had bedding he wanted to give to the night shelter so I called at the fire station to pick it up. Immediately I was welcomed warmly and invited to go for a ride in a truck. My visit turned out to be longer and I had good connections with folk. I think maybe I'll continue into next year. While I might enjoy the freedom from "work responsibilities" and time tables, there is something in the relationships that makes me feel useful and of worth, even though I'm getting old. 

Giving and receiving

 "Where's your medals?"

I am Workplace Support Chaplain to Firefighters in Dunedin, New Zealand. I have been their chaplain since early in 1994. I am an "external contractor" contracted to serve them and am not a part of the fire service, with no rank or uniform. I am, however, accepted by them and a well known fixture around fire stations. "You're part of the furniture here." the health and safety man said one day. Last year they presented me with a United Fire Brigade Association "Honorary Chaplain's" medal. (I also have a "Member of the New Zealand Order of Merit" medal presented in the New Years Honours list in 2003.) 

On Saturday evening, there was a celebration at the fire station. It was an "Honours Night". Several fire fighters were to receive their service medals with one receiving a 50 year medal, while another a 25 year medal. I was invited to attend. I got dressed in tidy clothing, but wondered if I would be expected to wear my medals. I dithered for awhile. "People might think I am 'up myself' if I wore my medals?" I said to my wife. "I am not a uniformed member of the fire service." In the end I put my medals in my pocket and turned up at the fire station. Fire fighters who were to receive medals or "bars" were dressed in their "undress" uniform, (really their formal uniform, their dress uniform is what they wear to fight fires) and they all wore their medals. I greeted and talked with the on duty crews, some retired fire fighters and others. The chief spotted me and came over to welcome me and shake my hand. We get on well so he greeted me warmly. Then he said, "Where's your medals?" I said that I wasn't sure about wearing them, that people might think I was showing off. I told him I had them in my pocket. "They are no use there! Put them on." So I did as I was told and with the help of a fire fighter, pinned them to my chest.

A "thank you" gift. 

I am retired chairman of the Dunedin Night Shelter Trust. I still try to support the Night Shelter in any way I can. I was part of the original group of people who initiated its eventual establishment. My daughter now is treasurer for the Trust and does an immense amount of work. Recently I was asked to join a panel for two days interviewing people for two staff positions at the shelter. I was only too happy to contribute my time. The other day my wife arrived home from visiting my daughter and handed me an envelope. In it was a "thank you" card  from the Trust, with a note expressing appreciation for helping and a $50 petrol voucher.  The note in the card expressed appreciation for the work on the panel, and went on to say "That, as well as your ongoing support, is invaluable and hugely appreciated."  "I don't need that!" I exclaimed, "I am only too happy to give my time!" "Accept it graciously," my wife counselled, "they want to express their appreciation for your support. Allow them to do it." 

"Allow them to..."

These two things happening on the same weekend got me thinking. In some ways my reluctance to wear my medals could be a slap in the face for the fire chief and those who wanted to award me the medals.  On Saturday night I heard something of the story of how I got my Honorary Chaplain's medal. Fire fighters began talking with their leadership and writing letters up the chain of command, so that eventually I was awarded the medal. By not wearing it proudly, it could be seen that I did not value the effort that went into my receiving it. By not wearing it I was discounting their generosity, and in a sense devaluing their regard for me. By wearing it I am expressing my appreciation for their award, and recognising the value of the gesture.  By wearing their medal, I am affirming that I am proud to be a part of their work and am happy to identify with the "fire service family". 

My wife also was right about the Night Shelter gift. The voucher and card was an affirmation, and a way of showing that my involvement is valued, that I am welcomed still as part of the Night Shelter Team.  By refusing it, I am in some ways, refusing the sense of inclusion they are offering. 

Giving gifts is a way of affirming others. But receiving gifts in the right spirit is also an affirmation and acceptance. I need to learn to give and receive with more grace. 

"I see the light!"

Darkness

When we moved to this house in 1987 there were little trees planted in the paddock next to us.  I recall we thought that the land belonged to the City Council and it was full of dock plants, so we tethered our milking goats there away from the trees. We had a knock on the door a few days later. It was the owner and his comment was, "I love trees and hate goats. Move them." So we duly apologised and obeyed. He was a woodworker/joiner and had planted 50 acres of trees of various sorts. We got on fine with him. He trimmed the trees and kept possum numbers down. But the trees grew and began to shade us considerably. We were aware that they would be harvested at some stage. He, however, sold the property to a man who did not have the same care for the trees. They kept growing well past their harvesting date and they became a real problem. The little cones the trees produced blocked our gutters, their pollen settled on our cars and in our lungs, and we lived in cold wet darkness.  We asked when they were coming down. We were not listened to. We wrote letters. Our neighbours who were also shaded, pestered the man.  We went to the city council authorities and the regional council authorities. Each claimed it was not their problem.  He had said he was working on it, but nothing seemed to happen winter after winter. In the end we went to a community law office and asked what we could do. We were given a procedure to follow and wrote a letter threatening legal action. (We really could not afford legal action though?) Well that seemed to get him into gear and we saw a succession of contractors visiting discussing amongst themselves how they were going to harvest them. 

Light! Warmth!

Then eventually last Friday an excavator and men with chainsaws began the process. The section next to us is to become the "skid" where they will load trucks. On Friday the trees next to us came down. We discovered what we were missing out on! The sunshine made our house warm! On Saturday we sat out on the deck for afternoon tea, basking in the sun. The hillside of trees will come down eventually, clearing the horizon and enabling us to have more warmth in winter when the sun is lower. 

Just now we are delighted! There will be inconvenience for awhile as trucks come and go, chainsaws buzz and excavators do their thing. The outcome will give us a much more pleasant existence, increase the value of our home and we'll be able to grow more vegetables.  We'll have to move from our acre as we age, but at least we'll have a few years of comfort. 

Another good side is that the guys doing the job have been pleasant to chat with. They have got rid of one of our trees in our front yard and are promising to deal to another that I have been working on.

Our house in darkness at midday in July 2016. It is a sunny day.

                                        The same day from the sunny golf course opposite.

The excavator and two men with chainsaws clear the trees next to us.

                                    The expansive view we now have from our lounge window.

Sun shining in the evening!

                                   It was almost dusk in this photo. You can see the house now, it is no longer hidden under vegetation.