Having only met her once before, I know her only as Kate. She lives a couple of blocks down the road, belongs to the local Parents Centre committee and, like many of the 20 or 30-something couples who have chosen to live in Alexandra, has a child or two.
Oh, and she can cook.
I know this because she has presented me with a large steaming bowl of what is destined to be tomorrow night's dinner.
It'll have to wait in line behind tonight's meal, presented the day before by an equally generous Victoria who, also being a mum, probably has enough on her plate without filling ours.
But that's the point.
The door keeps being knocked; the phone calls keep coming.
A few days ago, on a balmy Central Otago evening, my father-in-law, Dick McArthur, slipped and tumbled 10 metres off a rock on which he has gardened for close to 40 years.
Legions of children have been warned to stay away from that edge; Dick, at 68, is no child, but gravity couldn't care less.
At this early stage, his spinal injury has been described as severe.
The future is as foggy as Lake Dunstan on a late autumn morning.
What is certain, however, is the synaptic reaction of a community that clearly gives a damn.
In a week that has witnessed electioneering as high-pitched as the whinny of a Melbourne Cup racehorse, there comes a low, constant, heartfelt hum.
These pledges are real, offers of time that might be felt to amount to little by those who proffer them, but mean so much to those to whom they are made.
In fact, there have been so many offers, we're planning to hold a meeting; a roster of duties may be established, based on expertise.
It'll be Mucking In, sans cameras and spread across more than one property.
Besides their house on the hill, Dick and wife Beth also have a fledgling flower business on a 10-acre block outside Alexandra that requires attention, particularly now all those peonies are nearing export.
In a few weeks, their tubers having done time in the cold winter soil, those buds will be wanting to bloom.
There are also spuds, onions, carrots and other vegetables to consider.
These things all require an energy that can't be found in the sun, wind and (less prevalent) rain that lord over this rural area.
Like Dick, they need time.
Like Dick, tears have also tumbled.
As in all communities, there are some people who can't hide their shock when bad news seeps under the door or down the main drag.
Elsewhere, in the Maniototo - and this is mere speculation, based on secondhand stories from Dick - I'd hazard a guess there would be more than a few uttering words which, though perfectly succinct, are unprintable.
But here's a couple from me (and Dick's family) to those who care: thank you.
Shane says Dick was moved out of the intensive care unit into the orthopaedic trauma ward at Christchurch Hospital yesterday and was in "good spirits".
Wife Beth was with him yesterday on their 43rd wedding anniversary.
