by Martin Anton Smith antonmartinsmithwrites@gmail.com or martinantonsmith@gmail.com
(i)
And so I go to go off for a weeding job.
You see later in life I decided I must ‘green my thumbs’ a little more.
A reprisal of ‘being up trees picking cherries’ in my teens to early twenties between uni semesters.
That used to be a tradition for young kiwis.
And now many years later I’m back with things green.
It’s been a good little side gig since turning forty and burning out in Office-World-Australia.
I’m sure I’ve written about that before here and there and in various ways.
Anyway so let’s start talk of ‘Earnscleugh Weeding’ the title of this prose and come what may.
There’s nothing better than meandering and intertwining piece of prose –
Well in my humble opinion anyway.
(Not that I’m so humble, by the way – being one hundred percent humble these days is a ‘bad life strategy’).
(ii)
I jump in my old Jap-import (A Subaru yet I still like women) made in the last year of the last century.
Yes nineteen ninety nine ’twas a bad year for me (bed ridden at Otago Uni) but not for my well-made car.
It is still alive and passing gas freely – much like my good self.
Every year the old girl stays on the road is bonus – again much like my good self.
Yes to look at her she is ‘broken beat and scarred’ but somewhere deep inside there’s a flickering light of redemption –
Much like my handful of Melbourne-town exes I guess (that’s another prose poem).
Oh id I forget to tell you? – I lived in Melbourne for an eleven year stretch.
(The first six years were good and the last five were wasteful but this is just ‘Life University’)
(iii)
It’s always nice to go to work out in Earnscleugh –
It’s all hobby farms and orchards and they Earnscleugh folk let the trees grow high.
After all shelterbelts and shade are ‘the go’ in Earnscleugh-town just as much as the sun itself is.
Earnscleugh ‘is it’s own thing’ as they say.
That’s the beauty of New Zealand – it’s so different all over in so many ways.
But perhaps Earnscleugh could have at least one more cafe.
(But that’s probably just the intellectual in me becoming a ruthless dictator)
(iv)
Now if you’ll excuse me I will now sidestep and delve into ‘Sheldrake-ian Morphic Field Theory’.
There is a reason to this rhyme I promise you (For I ain’t no silver-spoon toolbox poet ya know).
Let me explain my theory as it pertains to this case.
You see in in nearby in Alexandra-town there is the spectre of ‘Australian Culture’ still lingering –
Left over in the air from the Gold Rush era that established the town –
You see the Australian culture of the diggers was the most fierce of all the competing cultures –
It beat the Irish, it beat the English, It beat the Chinese – perhaps it was only equaled by the nuggety Scots.
So it was embedded into the ambient everlasting ‘cultural knowledge field’ –
As Rupert Sheldrake has wonderfully already described.
And that’s why people in Alexandra don’t let the trees grow high –
Because the ‘Australian cultural field’ is trying to replicate how towns in Australia look –
Like a oasis in the desert, but with few trees, and what there is is mostly denuded.
Alexandra-town people cut trees and foliage down like it’s a war crime if you don’t.
(Of course I help them do it for cash – so I’m dichotomously both exasperated and happy).
Out in Earnscleugh they don’t do that – for the ‘orchard and farm cultural field’ prevails – predominates.
After all Earnscleugh is a “post gold mining” location engaged directly after the gold rush died.
Sheldrake’s Morphic field is surely on the money with the Earnscleugh vs Alexandra greenery fields.
I’d never shake a stick at it or even a tui’s tail feather – if I could get my hands on one that is.
I apologise to the readers who got lost in this passage.
(v)
Yes, I’ve spent a fair bit of time out in good ol’ Earnscleugh –
Starting thirty years ago as a ‘fruit tramp’ to coin American slang for a fruit picker.
Anyway enough about Earnscleugh History and lets get back to my weeding job at hand.
Actually there is no point – the weeding job is not interesting other than to say this:
I’m doing good work helping the elderly before they go into rest homes or pass away.
The weeding is good for my health and gives some spare cash.
Doing garden work is a hobby-job of mine you might say.
I’ve kinda grown to like it more each year – if you’ll excuse the pun.
The dirt on your hands I am told has an anti-depressant effect –
So I try to not use gloves too much.
(vi)
It was nice to see a couple of tui’s in the big tree overhead while I was weeding.
Although I wasn’t sure if they were lovers or enemies fighting over territory –
Although I now those two terms are not mutually exclusive –
They often go hand in hand when humans pair-bond at least.
Perhaps the Tui’s were lovebirds arguing over one of them being on the wrong side of the tree –
Kinda like human couples do with their big share-beds.
Of course Tui’s and birds are much nicer than most humans are – the urban ones at least.
But let’s not get into the Schopenhauer-ian side of my psyche here too much.
Let’s just say I tend to agree with much of his sentiments and leave it at that.
After all – this is supposed to be a uplifting light tale about weeding in the country –
Not a foray into ‘German Existentialist Philosophy’ –
Though it’s morbidly great.
(vii)
All in all it was a nice couple of hours weeding –
Helping out that old farmer who now forgets and his caregiving wife who called me in.
It’s a win win for all concerned.
This kind of thing is why the country is overall a far far better place –
Although cities are great places for a party, I think we can all agree on that.
And everyone needs to have a party every now and then – even the lemony prune faced folk (especially so).
But enough about boomers that social climb and love to be NIMBY’s.
That’s another prose piece that I surely have already written about.
(viii)
So I’ll see you again soon dear Earnscleugh – although I do need a break in Dunedin town soon.
After all as just discussed –
We small town folk are allowed to blow off some cooped up steam with the townees ain’t we?
Sure we are!
And it’s about time I visited ‘English Joe the Octagon barman’ too.
He’s always great for a laugh – but that’s next weeks prose I guess.
So check back soon for the ‘Boozy times with Octagon Joe’.
I’ll make sure to make a point of writing it.
And trust me an ‘Earnscleugh Weeder’ never lies.
I wonder if anyone else has ever said that line before?
Perhaps maybe some old aussie gold digger who liking the place never left for home,
And decided to plant some tall trees in Earnscleugh.
