The Chain Gang

Cast your mind to the epic Paul Newman film Cool Hand Luke where the antihero and his fellow chain gang crims toil in sweltering, unremitting heat.  That was yesterday and Saturday for us.

Back in October we wanted to buy another 50 Macadamia trees to plant in our orchard.  They weren’t ready then due to some probs with mineral deficiency in our supplier nursery’s orchard stock.  Well, he couldn't fix the deficiency so he would let us have about 70 plants for free.  All we had to do is roll up, collect them and plant them.  We would have spent about $800 normally but, as long as we knew the trees were not 100%, they were free (and would have been destroyed by him if we didn't collect them).

This weekend just gone we were on a planting mission.  Leaving work early on Friday afternoon we drove the five hours home to our ‘farm’ to arrive about 7pm.  Grass was up past our knees from not being there for 6 weeks so it was straight onto the ride-on (nicknamed ‘hardup’ because our farm keeps breaking it) to allow us to move around the outside.  This was the opening salvo in the battle for the weekend.

Saturday morning saw a battle joined proper in the far paddock.  Me on the tractor with slasher attached versus the grass around the existing macadamias.  I won, but only just.  At lunchtime Klara disappeared on a four-hour round trip to collect the new plants from our friendly nursery up in Nambucca-shire, leaving me to swelter.  It was like breathing soup with all that humidity.  That and the sun burned my office wallah legs under the tractor’s canopy.  Up down up down.  Dig that hole and move on.

Even driving to the far paddock is….interesting

Klara returned about 3pm and then we really got stuck into planting.  We managed 15 before the day ended or, to be more precise, we were beaten back by heat, thirst, humidity and fatigue.  Retiring to the shed we demolished some cold, cold VBs in consolation.

Yesterday we only managed another 30 plants before the clock said 3pm and the long drive back to Sydney beckoned.  For us the weekend war was over, we'd nothing left in the effort tank and the remaining trees would have to wait until early March.  The drive back to Sydney was a droopy eyed, stiff necked five hour slog.

Today, at my desk and staring down the barrel of yet another meeting, I’m in a different world.  Home, where my heart is, is on the chain gang.  Planting macadamias and working in conditions that triggered the Geneva Conventions.  Given a choice between Chain Gang and Traffic Signals and Speed Cameras, forced labour wins every time.