Owhiro Bay: Sheila Natusch

An Auckland friend emailed me a few days ago regarding the film No ordinary Sheila http://www.bridgeway.co.nz/movie/no-ordinary-sheila : “I was just reading about this woman - did you know her? She lived in Owhiro Bay and worked in the National Library! or was she before your time there?” 

Yes, I knew Sheila Natusch.

My first contact with Sheila was in 1985 or 1986, ten years after I came to live in Owhiro Bay. It was during the period when I was at home with two young children and, like my friend Kay Switzer, was enjoying a “sustained burst of creativity”. In my case, the creativity was expressed through knitting, embroidery, and gathering and pressing wildflowers in order to make them into pictures. Each November I was entranced by the flowers that sprang up in on the beach in front of my house, and, in profusion, on the hillside behind; these pink-mauve daisies for example:

I wanted to know the names of all these flowers, and so I phoned Sheila Natusch, who was well-known as a naturalist, and introduced myself to her.

Sheila invited me for morning coffee – brewed in a little pot on the stove, and served with cream instead of milk – accompanied by a hearty sweet slice made with plenty of butter and golden syrup (or perhaps it was treacle?). I was fascinated by the big black range, the smoky atmosphere, and the books everywhere. Sheila told me how much better roast mutton tasted than roast lamb. Then she presented me with a sketch she had drawn especially for me: 

There are twelve wildflowers and garden escapees carefully sketched, named and described. The top left flower, for instance, is: "Pink-mauve daisy, Senecio glastifolius (Compositae) S. Africa".  

After that, I stayed in touch with Sheila; and my husband and children also met her and Gilbert.

I pursued my interest in wild flowers for a long time, even producing a large 60 in pressed flowers for my husband’s special birthday in December 1990. The top photo of the two immediately below shows some of my pressed flower efforts, lined up along our coffee table; the other photo shows my husband and me wearing another of my creative efforts – matching red velour caftans. (I also provided Bill with much amusement when I knitted him a cosy cardigan in royal blue but with one sleeve markedly longer than the other – my mother came to the rescue and shortened the sleeve.)

My daughter, Sarah, inherited my love of gathering and pressing wildflowers, and here are two photos of her as a child on the beach in front of our house: 

When I was drafting this blog I asked Sarah if she remembered Sheila. “Oh yes,” she said. “Sheila wrote beautiful books about nature.” Sarah particularly remembers the little book called Granny Girton’s garden, which Sheila gave to our children when they were little, and which Sarah took back to Renwick years later to read to her own son.

Another book that Sheila gave our family was Wellington with Sheila Natusch:

And from our family scrapbook, an article about Sheila that appeared in a local newspaper:

"Tuesday, February 20, 1996

A labour of love, by Tina Nixon

Some authors write for money and fame but for Stewart Island-raised author Sheila Natusch, writing is purely a labour of love.

A prolific writer about Stewart Island and natural history, Mrs Natusch is about to publish her 22^nd book.

It deals with the life and achievements of her ancestors, the Trails […]

Mrs Natusch says she writes for love.

“I can’t help it.”

However, her collection of books has netted her little wealth.

“They are not the road to riches.”

Even if she sold all the copies of her books rather than giving so many copies away as she was apt to do, she would barely break even, she said.

Wellington-based Mrs Natusch uses her own company, Nestegg Books, to publish her work.

However, Craigs will publish her latest project … "

Sheila wrote more than sixty books. I notice that many are now out of print, and there is scope for some of them to be republished digitally, so they can be appreciated by a wider readership.

*

Wellington is a compact city, and once you have lived here for a while, your path crosses with others in multiple ways. And so it came as only a slight surprise when I bumped into Sheila Natusch at the end-of-year party for the Parlez-français Language School. Like Sheila, I have a degree in French, and when I decided that my children should be introduced to a foreign language at a young age, French was the obvious choice. (Sarah later switched to Spanish; and Charles to Japanese and later te reo Māori).

 At Christmas time during the 1990s, I would sometimes deliver to Sheila and Gilbert’s letterbox a small package of my home baking along with a note, and Sheila also gave us cards, at any time of year: 

 In 1994 when Sheila and Gilbert went overseas, I wrote to them at poste restante. Sheila replied with a delightful handmade postcard: 

Above Los Angeles, USA

(Us from 46 Owhiro Bay Parade)

Friday 18^th (2 of them!) 1994

Dear Friends-in-distant-Owhiro Bay,

Lovely to find your message in our letter box complete with DOUANE etc – so far we’ve managed to slip through all barriers. (The worst contretemps was at Wellington airport where the kind man offered to book our 2 big bags right through to Frankfurt and Gilbert failed to comprehend – wouldn’t listen to his wife!! Then a queue built up behind … too late. Much lugging hither and yon ensued.) It’s been cloudy all the way, a direct flight from Auckland to here, but interesting clouds, some turbulent and oppressing. Good to get off and walk to transit lounge and back (miles!). Weather fine here but terribly hazy – we won’t see a clear NZ-type horizon or clear-cut ridges or blue-black shadows ‘till we get back to the North Atlantic. On board are a German/Wendish couple we’d met (relatives of friends) – nothing to do with tour, just going home after NZ holiday and very keen for us to visit them on one of our free days. End of space (I made a few of these – they allow more room). Lots of love to you all, S & G.

Sheila and Gilbert visited us for lunch after this trip, and my diary records:

“Sunday, 25 September, 1994

Sheila and Gilbert Natusch came to lunch: French onion soup, corned beef and salad. Sheila had made beautiful albums of their overseas trip.”

Another of Sarah’s memories, also during the nineties, is the day we went to the Natusches for lunch. Sheila had laid out a blanket on the grass in front of their house (or was it on the beach?). She knew I had braces on my teeth and that chewing was painful, and so she produced pottle after pottle of pureed food which she had carefully prepared for us all: fruit, vegetables, seaweed …

The last time Sarah and I visited Sheila at home was during the early 2000s. I am not a “dropper-in” , but for some reason I suggested to Sarah that we pop in to see Sheila and Gilbert on Christmas afternoon. Gilbert greeted us with much enthusiasm and said, “Sheila is having a rest. I’ll go and get her.” There were family members present, who gave us Christmas cake and a cup of tea, but Sheila herself looked tired. I think it was during the period when Gilbert was becoming more difficult for Sheila to manage on her own.

In more recent years I would often see Sheila out and about at Owhiro Bay and we would exchange greetings, but the last time I had a good chat to her was at the Bach café in 2014. We each had a rendezvous relating to our writing. In Sheila’s case it was a librarian from the Alexander Turnbull Library. In my case it was a fellow student from Diane Brown’s online course Tools for Storytelling; he and I had just completed the course, and since we both lived in the Wellington area, decided it would be nice to meet up; we had both, while doing the course, written about violent and unforgiving seas – he, because he was from Nova Scotia, and I, because I was drafting the second half of my novel Deserter: a novel based on true events. Sheila and I chatted while we waited, and I found her vibrant and engaged as ever.

I saw the film No ordinary Sheila at a special showing at the Penthouse Cinema that an enterprising Owhiro Bay resident, Sue Reid, organised. There was much in the film that struck a chord with me, for instance, the very neat way in which Sheila described how her friend, Janet Frame, ended her teaching career: “The inspector walked in one door, and Janet walked out the other.” Sue had also arranged for the film maker Hugh Macdonald to be there. During the question time afterwards, members of the audience commented on the slight sadness Sheila had shown when she said on film that Gilbert had not wanted children, and so her books were her children. But Sheila was always positive, someone who took what fate threw at her and lived her life with joy.

As I walk along Owhiro Bay Parade, I look at the houses, and think of all the souls who lived here for a very long time – the Jameses, the Hoys, the Natusches and others. They are still with us here at the Bay. 

Ka kite anō.

Blog by Ann Barrie