gardening
I stood both straight and tall
Now I’m stooped and bent as down the garden path I crawl
My hair is full of leaves and twigs
My face is smudged with dirt
My knees are sore and every bone within my body hurts
Before I took up gardening
My legs were smooth and tanned
Now they’re scratched with thorns and scraped by potting mix and sand
At least I know my garden’s
Neatly groomed instead of weedy
While my appearance is, my dear, quite frankly, very seedy
In Haste
Oh I'm in such a hurry
I am really in a spin
Shall I plant a new variety?
You see the fix I'm in
I've been to all the road shows
Read the information too
I've talked to experts but
I'm still not sure just what to do
The early gold is tempting
And I really like the size
The other gold will store well
Which will make it quite a prize
The jade, of course, a hybrid
Brings the best of both, you know
I'm rushing round and trying
To decide which way to go
I know that I'll lose income
Cutting over is a pain
Though I guess that in the future
It will lead to long term gain
I'll have to build new structures
And put shelter all around
And upgrade all the irrigation
Pipes beneath the ground
To help with my decision
I soon bustled off in haste
To view the new varieties
And then to have a taste
I ate at least a dozen
Of the kiwifruit on show
Now I'm in such a hurry
And I really have to go
In Reply to Clare
The reason I don’t bring a flower along
Is not that I don’t grow the stuff
By the time that I write up the minutes each month
I feel I have done quite enough
The reason I don’t bring a flower along
Is not that I simply don’t care
But my roses have died and camellias expired
And there’s Wandering Jew everywhere
The reason I don’t bring a flower along
Is not that I simply forgot
But I have to admit I forget things a bit
Okay, I’ll admit it, a lot!
Insects
I’m afraid of spiders
Now, I know they do no harm
But the thought of their wee hairy legs
Fills me with alarm
I’m terrified of wetas
Huhu grubs and slaters too
I cringe to hear the crunch
Of slugs and snails beneath my shoe
Ants give me the shudders
And so do slimy worms
Anything that wriggles, crawls or flies
Can make me squirm
My lovely country garden
Is a seething battle ground
With insects perched on every plant
With buzzing, clicking sounds
My ideal world is insect free
And spider free, although
I guess that means I’d have to live
With forty feet of snow
So I have reached a compromise
I’ll let the insects be
To live around my garden
If they stay away from me
Life Cycle
When first we started orcharding our hopes were high indeed
Although it would be challenging we knew that we’d succeed
In making such a profit that we’d live a life of ease
It’s simple, we would tell ourselves, as money grows on trees
Initially we turned our new bought dairy farm to maize
And planted willow shelter belts, which were the current craze
With little work but harvesting the corn it was a breeze
Life’s easy, we assured ourselves, as money grows on trees
Then came the years of planting vines and training them to grow
Along the wooden structures where we wanted them to go
Although these times were lean and tough beneath our canopies
We concentrated on our goal, when money grows on trees
Finally the crops came in and year by dismal year
Our costs increased and profits fell; we watched with mounting fear
We still chased that elusive goal of wealth that was a tease
We’ll get there in the end, we said, as money grows on trees
Our goal it almost came in sight and then came Psa
And costs increased again as gloom descended on the Bay
So even though the poor cash flow has brought us to our knees
We’re planting gold, as we’ve been told that money grows on trees
Daisies, Daisies
Daisies, daisies, opening with the dawn
Drive me crazy growing up through the lawn
I've sprayed them with Roundup daily
But they keep flowering gaily
I've tried a hoe
But still they grow
And I do wish that they were gone
Mary Mary
Mary, Mary quite unwary
Planted some tiny seeds
She found in shock
She'd grown a dock
A nightshade and inkweed
Dilly Dilly
Bindweed is blue dilly dilly
Ivy is green
So is the Wandering Willy, Willy
Growing between
Garden Club
The garden club ladies sing this song
Doo dah, doo dah
Been on a garden gallop five miles long
Oh do dah day
Going to weed all night
Going to weed all day
I'll spend my money on the catalogue
That came in the mail today
Green Grows the Nightshade-O
I'll sing you twelve-o
Green grows the nightshade-o
What is your twelve-o?
Twelve for the fertiliser
Eleven for the grass that grows so fast
Ten for the cans of Roundup
Nine for the nine bright dahlias
Eight for the large umbrellas
Seven for the seven blooms on the rose
Six for the flower arrangers
Five for the gumboots at your door
Four for the compost makers
Three, three the flowerpots
Two, two the lily white hands grown so cracked and calloused-o
One's a weed and not alone as all around it grows-o
Many a Mickle Makes a Muckle
McKenzie was a Scotsman and a canny one to boot
He'd never spend a cent if he could somehow do withoot
His orchard was an eyesore; when they passed McKenzie's place
The neighbours sadly shook their heads and muttered, a disgrace!
The vines were propped with bits of gutterpipe and fallen trees
While Ma's big bloomers hung upon the wires to catch the breeze
Below the vines a dozen sows would root and turn the ground
While several scrawny chickens and a rooster hung around
Too mean to spray insecticides, ditto for the weeds
McKenzie claimed that soapy water was all one should need
Come harvest time the whole McKenzie clan came marching in
From baby with her bottle through to Granny with her gin
Granny was a goer as she scuttled through the blocks
Filling baby's pram with kiwifruit and pegging out her socks
Grandpa was the yardman; he directed Sonny Jim
At four years old
already he had learned to chalk a bin
Big Wully pulled a konake with bins on down the track
Meantime wee Agnes picked atop old Jed the donkey's back
The auditor arrived and when he saw the waiting gang
Croaked, Let's call it organic, as he left, a broken man
The Agfirst blokes came round to test the fruit but supped instead
Mac's latest brew which left them paralytic in the shed
Ma baked scones with jam and cream, Fiona carried cups
While Auntie Morag hauled an urn of tea to fill them up
Uncle Rob helped Dougal heave the bins onto the tray
Of the battered, rusty four by four McKenzie drove away
Arriving at the pack shed, by his load he'd proudly stand
The makings of a cigarette clutched in one grimy hand
The fruit went through the shed; the graders were amazed to see
Not only was it Y band it was all good quality
The moral of this tale is clear; no matter what you spend
It takes a canny Scot to come out better in the end
Matter of Fact
Oh, dear, what can the matter be?
Everyone’s talking about G 9 and G 3
Wanting to know what the future for both will be
And if the share-out is fair
They promised that housewives in overseas shops would
Spend large on our fruit, that increasing our crops would
Ensure that our orchards would make us a livelihood
Now we are facing despair
Oh, dear, what can the matter be?
Psa’s proving a widespread catastrophe
Europe is facing a shrinking economy
Prices are down everywhere
They promised that Hayward would prove quite resistant though
Rumours of profits have proved inconsistent so
Battling along with returns non-existent show
All I can do now is swear
My Favourite Things
Raindrops and sunshine and still autumn weather
Large gangs of pickers all working together
Long rows of fruiting canes tied up with strings
These are a few of my favourite things
Tractors with new air-conditioning and heating
Roadshows with cream cakes and comfortable seating
Compost and earthworms and beehives in spring
These are a few of my favourite things
Large crop of fruit that keeps on growing fatter
Sweet tasting fruit scoring high in dry matter
Contractors coming as soon as I ring
These are a few of my favourite things
Drops in our dollar at overseas markets
Exporters actually reaching their targets
No sign of scale or the damage they bring
These are a few of my favourite things
When the price drops and the cash stops
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my favourite things
Then I don't feel so bad
Names
You’d think that in a garden club
The members’ names would show
That they were named for plants
And trees and other things that grow
I’ll admit we have a Gardiner
And one Iris standing tall
But these are only two whose names
Are any use at all
Among our members there is not
One Rose to blush unseen
No Violets or Daisies
Even Lilys have there been
We’ve never had a Hyacinth
A Hazel or a Daphne
Poppy, Daffodil or Fleur
Jasmine or Rosemary
But none of us are Forrests
Mrs Plant or Vine, indeed
If my name was like my garden
Then by rights it would be Weed
Nellie the Puppy
I used to have a garden, I don’t have one any more
My secataurs and trowel lie abandoned on the floor
The reason is a young and very friendly boxer pup
Instead of weeding, now my exercise is sweeping up
Nellie is a puppy with a tendency to chew
She started with the sole from off my sturdy garden shoe
Next she tore a box of cuttings slowly into shreds
She munched the stem of Albertine that grew against the shed
She gnawed a hole in two black gumboots left beside the door
She joyfully ripped up my coat then looked around for more
She tasted six pink rosebuds that she chewed from off the vine
She found a bag of potting mix that tasted rather fine
Next the chair upon the deck went crunch in Nellie’s jaws
Followed by a garden stake she held between her paws
Finally she ate a snail that crawled along the path
Dug up all the vegetables and fell asleep at last
On A Budget
Two growers, Jim and Bob, met at the local RSA
They'd gone there to enjoy a pint and chips
Complaining of the added costs since finding PSA
Jim said to Bob, Do you have any tips?
Just look at what the pruning costs now, Jim said with a groan
The contractor's price goes up every year.
I gave up hiring contractors to do it on my own,
Replied Bob, as he sadly sipped his beer.
I spent a huge amount on buying plastic clips and ties
And even more on litres of protectant
Then there was the added cost I had to organise
For washing tyres and boots with disinfectant.
I bought plastic gloves for hygiene, plastic hats to cover hair
And if all that was not enough I then
Had to fork out for a supervisor for the workers there
Plus new sets of secataurs for all the men.
Then OSH did an inspection of my smoko room and said
I must upgrade all my facilities
With a wheelchair friendly bathroom and a ramp up to the shed
For workers with impaired mobility!
I had to purchase sunscreen for my workers next, Bob frowned
To stop them getting cancer of the skin
Then the workplace safety chappie saw the prunings on the ground
And said I couldn't let the workers in.
So I had to hire another blinking lot of men to go
With a rake, in front, to clear the stuff away
So my advice to you is give the contractor the dough
As in the end, as growers we will pay.
Running Out
There was gloom behind the shelter belts
That spread across the Bay
With the advent of the dreaded
Devastating Psa.
The shrinking OGR for Green
Was such an added blow
That growers were unsure
If they could tough it out, or go
A group of growers chatted
As they nursed their nightly pint
The problem is sighed Andy
That we’ll never get it right
With fruit too big, too flat, too square,
Too small, too few in seeds
We barely make enough to cover
All our basic needs
I know we should be grafting
And converting Green to Gold
The trouble is I think by now
We’re all too blinkin’ old
If we were cars I reckon this
Would surely be the time
To get a newer model
With a paint job that would shine
My headlight’s out of focus, Tom agreed,
And wryly smiled
My traction’s gone to pot. It takes
An hour to walk a mile
My problem’s worse than that
, Joe grunted
All my ball joints creak
And every time I sneeze or cough
My radiator leaks!
Overheard at a Nursery
Madam
I saw your sign outside
But I haven’t come to buy.
Oh look, that rose is withered
And it looks like it will die.
Owner
Deciduous it’s called my dear.
They do it, don’t you know.
It helps them to survive
The winter wind, and frost and snow.
Madam
I guess that you know best
But I’m afraid I cannot think
How you can charge two dollars
For a dried up piece of stick!
These pink ones growing over here,
They’re really very small.
Surely you’re intending
Not to charge for them at all?
Owner
Madam, it’s the cost you see
Of potting mix and bags.
Not to mention propagation
Wages, spray and tags
Madam
Well, naturally I know that.
But it surely wouldn’t hurt
To give me some for free?
I mean, it’s only plants and dirt.
And do you make much money?
It must be lovely fun
To have a super lifestyle
Growing roses in the sun.
Owner
Oh well, it’s just a hobby,
We think it’s such a hoot.
Normally I garden
In my Yves St Laurent suit.
Work? No no! We dabble,
And the money rolls right in
(I think I may have chipped a nail)
Someone -pass the gin!
Potty
I have a little alcove
By the door into the hall
Where I thought I’d put a pot plant
On a table by the wall
I started with a Coleus
Which promptly up and died
So a green and luscious lily
Was the next one that I tried
A week was all it took
To turn its toes up so I went
And bought a tuberous begonia
Which looked magnificent
I gave it too much water
Or I gave it too much light
It looked good for a week
Then drooped with collar rot and blight
As I threw it out and drove back
To the shop I gave a sigh
Other people keep their plants inside
So why can’t I?
This time I carefully chose my plant
And it still looks fantastic
I’ve had it now for two whole years
Because it’s made of plastic
Proposal in a Chinese Garden
It was late last week when I started to speak
To Tipsy Imperial Concubine
The delicate blush on her rosy cheek
Inspired me to ask if she would be mine
Alas, instead she tossed her head
And said that our hearts could never entwine
A lady she, so delicately
Expressed her delight at my sentiments
Unfortunately she could never be free
Even though she accepted my compliments
Compelled to stay and her charms display
Her duty and beauty an ornament
Roses
I really don’t want to grow roses
But I might plant Paulii by the shed
I’ll cut out the fuschia beside the back fence
And put in Blush Rambler instead
I really don’t want to grow roses
But I’ll put Madame Charles by the door
And there where the archway is straddling the path
I’ll probably put in one more
I really don’t want to grow roses
But there’s room for a Nestor or two
In fact I could probably squeeze in some more
And a Banksia Lutescens too
I really don’t want to grow roses
But in that bare spot by the wall
Mutabilis you know would put on quite a show
Where Goldfinch and Albertine sprawl
I really don’t want to grow roses
But I’ll put Hebe’s Lip by the gate
I really don’t want to grow roses
But as you can see – it’s too late!
Super Zespri Man
They were chatting at the Board
'Cause the word had gone abroad
That the ad campaign for kiwifruit was out
From an overheard remark
In the agency carpark
Came an idea that was proving a knockout
The concept wasn't new
But they guaranteed it to
Make our kiwifruit a winner overseas
The ad guys cunning plan
Was titled Super Zespri Man
And the sight of him brought women to their knees
He was muscled and disguised
With a black mask round his eyes
And the Zespri logo proudly on his chest
The children were in awe
And the customers soon saw
That for heroes, Zespri fruit outdid the rest
There were letters by the score
There were faxes, calls and more
All wanting his identity exposed
They called for photos – in the buff
Until the chairman cried enough!
A parade of the employees was proposed
The secretaries sent
Correspondence which soon went
To the shareholders inviting them by name
To assemble at the Mount
So that there could be no doubt
That their hero truly warranted acclaim
Mike from KGB was first
Which gave rise to cries of mirth
As they called out for the next man in the line
The multitude all roared
At the Chairman of the Board
Where's Super Zespri Man? Stop wasting time
Neill and Craig were soon dismissed
By the crowd who booed and hissed
Ray and Tony both got treatment much the same
The crowd gave quite a hand
To young Rosstan, fit and tanned
Some were sure he was the one from the campaign
But then Lain strolled slowly out
And the gasps became a shout
As he slowly peeled the shirt back from his chest
The band struck up a tune
And a dozen women swooned
When they saw the Zespri logo on his vest
The applause was long and loud
From the wildly cheering crowd
Between themselves the growers all agreed
If anybody can
It will be Super Zespri Man
To improve our fortunes in this time of need
The Bus Trip
I went upon a bus trip with the garden club, to see
Some very splendid gardens, it was quite a mystery
We clambered over hills admiring ponds and flowerbeds
Just look at that oxalis! Colleen said
I went upon a bus trip with the garden club, we went
To a very well stocked nursery where lots of cash was spent
As we wandered round past pots of flowers in shades of green and red
They’re trying to sell oxalis! Colleen said
I went upon a bus trip with the garden club, you know
We had a talk on how to bud a rose and make it grow
One cottage garden had a rustic ivy covered shed
It’s better than oxalis! Colleen said
I went upon a bus trip with the garden club, and found
That drought
was drying up and causing huge cracks in the ground
Plants were wilting sadly and a lot of them were dead
Except for the oxalis! Colleen said
I went upon a bus trip with the garden club, and saw
A grand old house; invited in, we all trooped through the door
Happily we followed where our gracious hostess led
That pot plant is oxalis! Colleen said
I went upon a bus trip with the garden club, indeed
I wish I could remember every plant and tree and seed
But one thing I remember is the horror on her face
When we said, next time we’ll visit Colleen’s place.
The Elements
Gentle zephyr, gusting breeze
Tickling draughts that toss and tease
Winds that puff and play
Blasts and flurries chill and freeze
Gales that bluster such as these
Are sure to blight my day
Canes are breaking all around
Fruit are falling on the ground
Littering each bay
Inside, cringing at the sound
Of tornados whirling round
Imagine my dismay
Artificial shelter shreds
Roofs are ripped and blown from sheds
And carried far away
Grafted shoots are left for dead
As I slowly shake my head
My orchard I survey
What with floods of pouring rain
Hail and frost and hurricane
My hair is turning grey
Parching drought is here again
It’s slowly driving me insane
I need a holiday
The First Day of Springtime
On the first day of Springtime my true love gave to me
Twelve rows for hoeing
Eleven shrubs for growing
Ten vines for trimming
Nine buds for thinning
Eight trees for pruning
Seven pots for moving
Six bulbs for feeding
Five fingers bleeding
Four packs of seeds
Three compost heaps
Two creaky knees
And a large spade for digging up the weeds
The Fishpond
It was a wild and windy night
The sky was cloudy grey
On that moist and chilly evening
Of a rainy winter’s day
A waning moon and scattered stars
Shone from the Milky Way
The night that Grandpa fell into the fishpond
Beside the gate the labrador
Gave forth a joyful bark
As Grandma’s blue Toyota
By the driveway stopped to park
Grandpa he approached the gateway
Through the gloomy dark
The night that Grandpa fell into the fishpond
He strode out boldly on the grass
Without a pause to think
He blundered through the garden
And teetered on the brink
Finally with flailing arms
He landed in the drink
The night that Grandpa fell into the fishpond
This mishap it occurred
Within the blinking of an eye
All Grandma heard from close behind
Was one despairing cry
As with the speed of Christian Cullen
Running for a try
Grandpa fell headfirst into the fishpond
Bedecked with strands of water weed
He floundered round and round
Attempting to locate
And climb out onto firmer ground
While Grandma wailed and gnashed her teeth
The edge he sought and found
The night that Grandpa fell into the fishpond
Running to the rescue
Quickly Daddy shone a light
Revealing to his startled eyes
A sad and sorry sight
Dripping water Grandpa croaked
I’m really quite all right
The night that Grandpa fell into the fishpond
To prevent another mishap
Before Dad went to sleep
He put a bright and shining light
Beside the gate to keep
A lighted path so next time
Grandpa looks before he leaps
And doesn’t join the fish inside the fishpond
The Friendship Garden
I have a friendship garden that began a year ago
When my best friend gave me a cutting of a rose to grow
I popped it in a little patch of earth that I scraped bare
My next door neighbour called with some sweet peas to put in there
I admired some pelargoniums when visiting an aunt
She quickly gathered cuttings plus some daffodils to plant
I mentioned over coffee to another friend I saw
That I did love her daylilies, so she promptly gave me four
The butcher’s wife gave me some herbs, she said she had a lot
So I added thyme and rosemary and spearmint to my plot
My sister loved begonias, she passed me on some corms
Plus a seedling jacaranda which I planted by the lawn
The RD lady handed me a succulent one day
She'd found beside the roadside of a garden down the way
My husband proudly handed me a large camellia tree
He'd purchased for my birthday from the local nursery
By now my garden was indeed a blooming lovely sight
With flowers of purple, pink and blue and yellow, cream and white
I thought my garden wonderful but then it started seeding
And now I wish my friends would call and help me with the weeding
The Green Growers’ Blues
A group of growers met one day
For coffee and a natter
The topic of their talk was how
To increase their dry matter
A snake oil salesman came to town
Dressed in designer gear
He claimed his product would improve
Dry matter year by year
The growers rushed around him
With their wallets in their hands
And soon snake oil was copiously
Spread upon the land
Alas the snake oil didn’t work
So much to their dismay
The growers turned to someone else
To find another way
A contractor came driving up
With fingers ringed in gold
He said, Trust me and I’ll increase
Your orchard work fourfold
We’ll cut off all the growing tips
And girdle trunks in fall
The dry matter will go up
Though your fruit won’t size at all
But won’t that kill the vines? the growers asked
Came the reply
By then I’ll be retired and rich
So let the blighters die!
Alas the pruning didn’t work
So much to their dismay
The growers turned to someone else
To find another way
Then up strode a consultant
Smartly dressed in suit and tie
He said, I’ve never grown the things
But that’s no reason why
I cannot sell you my advice
Now, don’t put on urea
In summer or you’ll find you have
A low dry matter year
The growers were impressed by this
They said, He must have brains
For he sits inside an office
While we work out in the rain
This didn’t work despite the huge
Amount they had to pay
The growers turned to someone else
To find another way
The fe
rtilizer man came by
In his imported car
Buy plenty of my hogwash
As it is the best by far
By now the grower’s wallets
Were considerably thinner
But they bought up drums of hogwash
Which they thought would be a winner
The fertilizer didn’t work
So much to their dismay
The growers turned to someone else
To find another way
Let’s try the scientific bods
They’re paid to do the tests
What’s the reason some of us
Do better than the rest?
The scientists cried, Sorry guys
There really is no reason
We cannot test and find a fix
Within one growing season
No matter what they tried
The growers’ efforts were in vain
The marketers gave great rewards
That only some would gain
So the growers phoned the marketers
And said, It can’t be done
We’ve tried out products, techniques
And advice from everyone
The marketing chaps shrugged and laughed
It doesn’t worry us
Our jobs are safe. We don’t know why
You’re making such a fuss
Forget about dry matter, guys
As that was last year’s plan
We’ll have a new campaign next year
So try this if you can
Green is out and blue is in
For this we’ll do a test
We’ll sample every seventh fruit
And throw away the rest’
The growers queried,
Poems From the Potting Shed Page 4
