Poems From the Potting Shed

by Lynne Roberts

How?

  The answer came We have no clue

  But of course it is your problem’

  Which is why they sang the blues

  The Help Line

  I’m looking at my orchard and I’m feeling quite depressed

  With the steadily encroaching PSA

  The warnings sent from KVH and ZESPRI and the rest

  Are taking all my peace of mind away

  Should I spend a lot more money, that in fact I haven’t got

  To spray my vines with copper yet again

  Or do I hope for weather not too cold and not too hot

  And pray we don’t get hit with wind and rain?

  It all became too much for me last week so finally

  I dialled up the Help Line on my phone

  The soothing answer service played a classic symphony

  And reassured me I was not alone

  It gave me quite a list of numbers I could choose between;

  Push 1 if you fear suicide is near

  Push 2 for housing problems and push 3 for money woes

  Push 4 for our new legal volunteer

  Push 5 for anorexia and 6 for pregnancy

  Push 7 for relationship discord

  Push 8 for claustrophobia and 9 for OCD

  Push 10 now for a pastor, praise the Lord!

  I sighed, pushed button 1, then it transferred me with express

  To a centre based offshore in Pakistan

  They asked if I could drive a truck and when I answered yes,

  With great excitement said I was their man

  It seems they had a job for me, but didn’t mention pay

  Of course I’d have to travel over there

  I didn’t go, as it would only be for half a day

  And I couldn’t raise the dough to buy the fare

  So I’m looking at my orchard and I’m feeling quite depressed

  I need a boost of funds to change my luck

  I thought a Lotto ticket might reduce my rising stress

  But it’s money down the drain again, oh bother.

  The Orchardist's Lament

  I'm an orchardist and I'm okay

  I sleep all night and I work all day

  I dress in old torn clothes and boots

  I prune my vines and I feed their roots

  I spray for pests and I weed and mow

  I bring in bees so the fruit will grow

  I girdle trunks and I girdle canes

  I put up shelter and I dig out drains

  I seldom stop for a cup of tea

  As I try to win the lottery

  My neighbour does the same and yet

  His fruit was Y while I'm in debt!

  Three Tier Farming

  I see that down in Marlborough

  Where the grapes are grown for wine

  They are using guinea pigs to graze

  The grass beneath the vines

  These furry pets are cheap to house

  The grass provides the feed

  And guinea pigs are known

  For their ability to breed

  Now though at first this concept seems

  A little hard to take

  It's proving so successful that

  It can't be a mistake

  I thought that I would have a go

  Upon my orchard here

  But then a flash of genius

  Brought me a great idea

  To keep the guinea pigs in check

  I'd bring in herds of mink

  The benefits of these would be

  Tremendous – don't you think?

  The minks would eat the guinea pigs

  Who'd eaten up the weeds

  Then their fur would be a bonus

  Source of income that we need

  And if by chance the market

  Falls for mink, like all the rest

  Well, what the heck, at least when I

  Went out I'd be well dressed

  Waiting for Kiwifruit Picking

  Well the silly season’s started and the phone is ringing hot

  Are my brixes up to six point two?

  Can I pick or not?

  What about the weather?

  Will it frost or hail or rain?

  Will my antiquated tractor blow a gasket once again?

  Do I have a gang of pickers?

  Can I issue them with bags?

  Are there drinks to give them energy when they begin to flag?

  Is there chalk enough to mark the bins stacked neatly in the yard?

  Will the truck negotiate the hill or will it be too hard?

  Will my fruit all be rejected with proximity and scale?

  Will my overdraught increase until we all end up in jail?

  Will the lucky fellow down the road who picked his fruit last week

  Kindly take the grin from off his face and not attempt to speak!

  I cannot stand the stress and strain of waiting day by day

  What’s that ? I’ve passed at six point two!

  Great! I’m on my way.

  What Will the Matter Be?

  Oh, dear, what can the matter be?

  Dear, dear, what should the matter be?

  All that it matters is what will the matter be?

  Y, T, R, M, who can choose?

  My neighbour is Y and he's buying an Audi

  He's putting on parties abandoned and rowdy

  He doesn't care whether it's sunny or cloudy

  He's booking an overseas cruise

  The bloke down the road grew a huge crop of grade T

  He spent several thousand improving his canopy

  Most of it went to advisors who disagree

  He'll buy a new pair of shoes

  The chap up the valley, his crop was all R grade

  His wife has a stall at the gate selling lemonade

  All of his contractors hope that they'll be paid

  He hasn't got much left to lose

  One grower I heard of, his fruit was all M and

  So covered in scale that from export it was banned

  He's taking the kiwifruit out back to bare land

  And drowning his sorrows in booze

  Wintertime

  Icy finger, icy toes

  Dripping branches, dripping nose

  Thunder, lightning, wind and rain

  Muddy puddles, flowing drains

  Sludgy paddocks, snow and sleet

  Chapped lips, chilblains, frozen feet

  Chills and coughs and colds and sneezes

  Windscreen frosted, engine seizes

  Boots, umbrella, coat and hat

  Socks and slippers, thermostat

  Brandy, aspirin, aching head

  Soup and crumpets, cosy bed

  Telly, book and magazine

  Chapstick, Vicks and Vaseline

  Phone call, boyfriend, skiing – fine

  Give three cheers for Wintertime!