Brie’s Kiwi Summer Story

Turangawaewae is a Māori phrase meaning “the place where you stand” - the place where you belong. When my family and I moved to Lincoln, we wanted to find our turangawaewae, to set ourselves up in a place where we could belong, grow roots, and contribute to a thriving community. Part of that for us has always been about creating a flourishing environment - planting trees, restoring habitat, and being active members of our local area.

When my husband and I had our first child, we realised we wanted to have a positive impact on the world. He left a career in mining software and joined a renewable energy company, while I began volunteering with local environmental groups and studying landscape architecture. Together, we wanted to show our kids that they could shape their world - whether through big-picture ideas or small, tangible steps right outside their back door.

As our children have grown, we’ve always chosen to make their environment better and more natural. We have a big garden, grow our own vegetables, and plant eco-sourced natives wherever we can. I think there’s a kind of peace that comes from planting and seeing things grow - a harmony between the natural world and a growing child. We try to teach them about insects, spiders, and wētā so they develop compassion for the world around them.

Now, as the coordinator of the Kids Discovery Plantout Programme, I get to share that passion with hundreds of children every year. Our goal is to find restoration sites within walking distance of schools so children can see the change they’ve created - watching plants grow over months and years, adding to the work of siblings and classmates before them. I love seeing whole families contribute to a legacy that spans generations.

There’s always a moment during a planting day when I see a spark in a child’s eye - a realisation that what they’re doing matters. They become kaitiaki, guardians of their place. The programme isn’t just about putting plants in the ground; it’s about growing a generation of kids who know what native species look like, why they matter, and how biodiversity supports the health of their entire community.

We’ve planted around 250,000 native plants so far, and we’re just getting started. Each small planting - whether 400 plants or 4,000 - adds up to something extraordinary over time. We’re bringing native plants back to the district, one plant at a time, starting from the ground up to create thriving habitats for birds, insects, and people.

My hope is that when these children grow up, they’ll remember that they have the power to make things better. Real change starts at the community level, from the ground up - and every plant they put in the soil is a step toward a healthier, more resilient future.

I imagine 10 or 20 years from now, walking through these wetlands with my family and seeing tall native trees overhead, hearing the call of native birds, watching clean water flow with tuna swimming through. I hope to see people pointing out the trees they planted as children, reconnecting with nature and with each other.

Because the best time to plant a native was 20 years ago - but the second-best time is today.