What to do about Stew, Part 2

We woke up to frost our first morning on the farm. We had to sleep in a little because Stewart doesn't like getting up too early. Our breakfast came from chickens, not out of a can and there was plenty of toast, tea, coffee and fried tomatoes. Yvonne was in charge of the kitchen this morning and we took advantge of a good meal. She had to help her daughter move and would be in and out for the next few days so anytime she cooked, we ate.

Our first chore was to plant some fruit trees. It seemed pretty simple, dig some holes, take the wrapping off the roots, put them in the hole and cover them up. Stewart said just go ahead, that's all there is to it, he'd be back a little later. Evidently there was more to it. When he got back Stew had to put his stamp on it, like a dog staking out his territory. He had invented a way to plant trees that seemed to us to be just exactly what we did but we just didn't have the trained agricultural eye that he did. We didn't use the proper tools for one thing. He rigged up a post hole digger that took twice as long to make the same hole as our shovels, and our berms around the trees weren't as architecturally correct as his so we had to redo them. I can guarantee the trees will never know the difference, the water will reach the roots just the same and fruit will be blooming in spite of our obvious ignorance, but Stewart was happy - his little self serving grin and one upsmanship convinced us of that.

Next came tea break. Stewart loves his tea and loves to talk during his tea. About himself mostly but if not about himself, then the history of the area - that's something he knows about and we know nothing of so he can lecture for a full half hour. We'd rather skip tea and keep working. The sooner we finish the sooner we can escape to town at the end of our shift - four hours of work each day for free room and board.

Tea time came to an end and it was off to the pistachio trees. March is harvest time so during the summer the groves need to be weeded. Weeding can mean different things to different people. To us it meant putting on gloves, pulling weeds and maybe hoeing a little. To Stewart it meant something else entirely. All the trees are surrounded by thick intertwined vines, like ground juniper, with thick bunches of grass growing around and in between the 3 inch branches. It looked like the heavy steel mats they put over explosives when blasting and had the same strength - dynamite wouldn't have moved them.

Not to fear. Stewart gave us two dull hoes and said all we had to do was chop them out and clear a six foot circle around each tree. For a man who has inventions for everything the least he could have done whas give us sharp hoes. That probably wouldn't have made much difference - under the vines, the ground was covered with rocks. A few quick swings of the hoe and the cutting surfaces flatten out like the short side of a two by four. Toots asked how many times we swung the hoes for each tree - how many stars are in the sky, how many fish in the sea, how many grains of sand on the beach.

Lunch time came and Stewart, who had been helping someone up the road, called us in. That's as far as Stew got. Yvonne was out with her daughter so Toots got to fix lunch. There was a chicken in the fridge and some bread and the quickest meal looked like sandwiches, some tea and back to the fields before Stew could start talking.

That didn't happen. The longer lunch takes, the more he can talk and this time we found out about he became born again a few years earlier. He also speaks in tongues and has helped in healings. We just nodded eating as fast as we could - the vines and rocks were looking pretty good right now.

Once we got back to the trees they didn't look so good though and we knew we needed to get out. We had to make a break for it somehow and make it soon; seven days seemed like a galaxy far away and we had no intention of going there.

Three o'oclock seemed like years coming, but we saw Stewart driving back, as much to make sure we were still working as to let us know we could stop. Hallelujah, it's time to go to town, visit the library, get on the internet and found out how to blow this town.

It turns out there is no longer a regular bus service in Quorn. There is however, a weekly bus that takes people to Port Augusta once a week for shopping. From Port Augusta there's a bus or train to Alice Springs and that put hundreds of miles and twenty hours between us and the trees. The bus leaves in two days - we have one more day of hoeing and a way to make our break.

We come back to watch tv with Stewart and Yvonne. His favorite show is on - all about inventions by people who hope to make it big. None of them take as much thought or ingenuity as his and probably don't have a chance of making it big. His next favorite show is a weekly news show that interviews Australian politicians - and wouldn't you know it, they have never listened to Stewart.

Another cup of tea and it's time to go to bed.


The next morning we wake up early and start early - we're on a mission and that includes finishing as early as we can and hopefully our work schedule will keep us in the field when Stewart is having breakfast and lunch. It works, and it confuses him - he says not to worry "I won't fire you", not knowing we're about to fire him.

After clearing out thirty five trees and getting down to bear dirt around all of them my back all of a sudden acts up. Limping back to the house, walking slow to make sure no one can mistake just how "serious" my injury is, we tell Stewart we just can't do anymore. He accepts it well and says he understands and that it's a real shame - he was going to help us the next day (yeah, right) and he had some easier jobs for us ( yeah, right). Those trees had never been "weeded" and they weren't about to be until someone else landed in his web.

Yvonne found some linament for us and Stewart suggested that some friends could come over and lay hands on my back to cure it, but I assured him that I'd had the problem before and just needed a few days of rest. Yvonne said she could drive us to Port Augusta but we told her that when we went into town during lunch and got tickets on the bus because we knew it would have to be our last day.

The day wasn't over yet though. There was a barbeque that night for one of their friends who was leaving town and Stewart got his last dig in - we were going, back pain or no. It was a little bit like Brer Rabbit and the Briar Patch for us though - we go the barbeque and there's a whole house full of people who aren't Stewart.

toots here.......
back to original style.. fb writes i add some missing links.. he has caught up with his journal.. not crazy about barbeque at first.. but we should go and do.. tired... ended up being fun... met peter an ole car buff.. nice guy who runs a holiday farm..been to the states and liked it.. to car shows and west... the wine flows.. stewart doing ok.. had a few.. yvonne talking with all.. stew more quiet.. we talk to people... all the ladies are nurses in the little hospital... yvonne had to quit.. bad back..cant life patients.. its getting cold sitting there... yvonne wants to leave.. stewart still pouring some wine,, fella next to me.. walking with 2 canes.. 50's...football in high school... shot by one of best friends.. accident..in head... affected mobility... still burly, in wheelchair all night... racous, didnt drink and still friends with guy who's gun he said he got in front of.. my fault he said.. they were out shooting kangaroos at night with flashlights..a typical sport of aussies... friend takes care of grantley.. whatever he needs.. grantley married to one of nurses there... guy named peter there..he was in an accident.. car rolled over.. stitched his arm back on.. still drives and cooks a mean barbeque.. used todrive tour bus in northern territory.. he and wife going to egypt celebrating her 60th.. we enjoyed all these nice people....
back at stewars and yvonnes we are made hot chocolate... sit, chat, watch political show... next morning up and out... we left on a pleasant note.. i am sure they enjoyed us as much as we did them.. good experience... yvonne so cool .. artist.. interesting.. not as religious......she was apparently hurt by some religious folks.. perhaps by talk.. dont know... really liked the friends and quentin my favorite... he said he had been cured of cancer by laying hands.. now a stroke.. i wouldnt have known that.. quentin rescued us from the leaning on the hoe stance.. made stew drag us in for tea and cookies... he yelled to us in the field.. "get in here now , stewart will push you for 24 hours straight.. " ha... loved that quentin... good soul, felt like we knew him... he was cadfael.. the detective in the cadfael mysteries... ha