We did the math and the buck vs. bang ratio will not keep us picking asparagus. But we wanted to give it a try. Some people warned us, some predicted failure. Apparently we did not fully realize the entertainment potential of our blog posts. This email that Julie got yesterday sums it up quite well:
"Sup Dawg? I hope you guys are having the time of your lives! I'm loving the blog. Great stories and pictures. I was very jealous of Tahiti and Moorea. Now that you are in New Zealand you are the subject of much comic relief. Hot, sweaty, stinky, migrant workers living in a van. Yucky! Sounds like the kind of folks you would try to get kicked out of your town. Just kiddin'. Of all the crops in this great green earth you could choose to pick, WHY asparagus?? Hhhmmmmm......a plant that is 6" tall, grows in full sun, and has to be harvested with a knife. Sounds perfect for pygmies with osteoporosis! I hope you two don't kill your back and knees. Think fruit trees, shade, head high fruits, and no need for tools."
The writer will go un-named, but the question now becomes, how could we be so naive? (Julie just decided to come in and edit the blog Jay wrote - the writer WILL be named because he's a laidback bloke - my dear ol' friend from DMF, Bob..., who also happens to be a kick ass gardener and understands this thing called asparagus)
Well, we arrived on the farm during a period of cold, damp weather and were told that the picking would only get better once the weather warmed up. We also got the impression that the job would be extremely casual and we could pick as much or as little as we liked. Plus, the whole place was beautiful (really though, what part of the country isn't?) and the fishing potential (see previous post), for me, was tantalizing. The Turneys, George, Diana, and their son Simon are really nice, good humored folks, even if they do pay a lousy rate. Our co-workers, inspite of the fact that some listen to Metallica (apologies to any fans out there) and are just beginning to explore the wonders of controlled and/or illegal substances, are actually wonderfully bright, friendly, and generous.
So, you are probably thinking, why couldn't these so-called marine biologists tough it out and become lean, mean, asparagus picking machines? Well, it warmed up all right, but the asparagus hasn't exactly become the lawn (though it is much like grass in many ways) we thought it might. We quickly realized that picking some extra rows was more of an expectation than an offer. Even quicker we understood that getting up any later than the crack of dawn was not an option. Mornings are cold! We also found that the heaps of asparagus picked by others were simply not attainable by us because better-growing asparagus rows are given to folks with seniority. Also, I may still look like a spring chicken but I haven't been 19 for nine years now, and Julie's got 2 years and the same number of inches on me. Our backs and thighs could take six hours or so of it, but we have been doing some 8-10 hours days that just haven't been worth the effort. Obviously this leaves one with little time and energy for fishing.
Much to our relief, the Turneys have been accepting and and even friendly about our decision to leave. Simon asked us what we would do if we found our van without wheels the next morning. But Simon's a good bloke and and we trust he is just pulling our leg. Easy-peasy lemon-squeesy is his favorite expression...one needs this sort of optimism in this business I think.
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