Seating Arrangements

My husband has been a driving force for me in the area of where to rest my laurels and Laurelees (my real middle name that I went by in school) in our many garden settings. He was instrumental in helping me appreciate a hidden bench at our first house that we owned together in Agoura, California. John had built the bench directly on the hillside of our one-acre property, and it had a remarkable view of the scenic valley below with a backdrop of the Santa Monica mountains. He installed a stunning flourish to the overall look of the bench with a European, (probably Italian) tile inset into the center of the back support, which added to its considerable charm. The thing is that John actually had to carve out dirt paths leading to the esteemed bench so one could enjoy the vantage point from there. But when it wasn’t in use, the bench back could be closed and the hillside growth hid the seat of the bench completely. Just like most of his very offbeat creations, they all seem to merge with the natural environment and are so easily missed from sight. What a clever guy he is. My memory is a bit foggy about its exact details since we left that house and America in 1994 to move across the globe to the center of the South Island of New Zealand. In our many rambling properties that included living on an apple and apricot orchard, which I dubbed, Apricotttage, to our historic home, the oldest in Christchurch, Glenmore House, to our vineyard estate at The Wineshed, a complex of homestead and vines and gardens and a small lake/large pond, then a restaurant attached to an old barn surrounded by a chipped limestone patio…my mate has supplied us with exceptional seating that is often quite original and a tad eccentric for viewing our surrounds from a hidden corner of the yard that opens up to a dramatic view of a lifetime. He has managed this feat through different creations in different properties at different times but they all were remarkable in retrospect, as I think about them today.
In our vast gardens at our little cottage here, he has outdone himself with constructions that have various types of seats, some handmade by him, some not or handmade by others, namely the man who made all the outdoor tables and benches for the restaurant, that big brute of a guy, Doug, my friend that I met while cruising around the Riccarton Racecourse Swap Meet, or Market Day, back in the day when I had Glenmore House to adorn, inside and out, and then later a restaurant and estate to decorate.
But back to John and his skill at finding just the spot for something to recline on during a bout in the garden when I feel exhausted from my toil and I want to just sit down and drink it all in. We have benches or seats that have been salvaged from newer items and rebuilt a tad differently. One in particular has an old gumboot filled with concrete for a leg, where the real leg was missing.
He used gumboots to shore up the legs of the old bathtub that we salvaged from our neighbor so it could be at the right height for me to plant in it. Or the table he made from planks he got from cutting up some old tree that had fallen to the ground. That piece also has gumboot legs to raise it up and give it a sardonic touch.
I have a bench that Doug put together for me 25 years ago from the decorative armrests and legs that I found while scrounging through an old salvage yard. When we moved here, John placed it near my washing line. Shaq, my long-haired cat and I sit there and stare at the front paddock from there after I hang out the washing. Then there’s the seats that John refurbished with flax leaves woven inside the backs to lean on. Or the tree trunk surround that enclose John’s new saffron plot that we can sit on safely now that he’s fixed those logs into notched holes in the timber beneath them. At first when I did sit down on the largest one, it began to roll precariously, so my mate went back to the drawing board and made it more stable. And I must also mention the two enclosures with corrugated roofs that are perfect for hiding out in with several seats, and especially good if a sudden gust of wind comes up or unexpected rainfall catches one out. These places are havens to wait out the storms.
One of Doug’s very rustic tables we have here is beginning to fail. The top planks that were saved from the old Christchurch Sale Yards, when it was taken down, are now falling apart but they have so much character that I’ve asked John to save them, rather than just replace them. He suggested putting new planks underneath for support and then refitting the original planks on the top with the old beauties that show so much of the life they’ve had.
I think he’s always a few steps ahead of me. When I have an idea and feel the pull to create something, it comes to me instantly and I make it almost as fast in a slapdash manner. John, on the other hand, the logical one who also has both sides of his brain engaged creatively, savors the idea slowly and methodically, just the way he puts these treasures together. And I’m always pleasantly surprised. Very pleasantly in fact.
Composition and placement seem to be thriving here on the farm at the House of Cluck-Cluck.