If You Give Me Weeds, Whites, and Wine

When I was a boy, lo these many years ago, my dad always wanted me to help pull weeds out of our humble garden. As anyone will tell anyone, I was a lazy child and waste removal was where I made my bones.

I didn't like bending over, getting dirty, or touching potential bug homes. I would leave to take breaks every 10 minutes...an overall poor worker.

I even developed a supposed allergy to pollen so I could be released from the job. This allergy farce born out of lethargy remains today and I still nurture it when necessary, which is often.

Well, now we have a New Zealand home with gardens all around. There are flowers and weeds and trees and we don't know what. Funny thing is, I don't mind pulling up strange stuff out here. The ground is richer and the evil plants come right out. There are very few bugs. And now, they're OUR bugs and weeds, dammit! But the old back sure does suffer.

(Hint,hint..Vicodin for Hanukkah)

So I went down to the local grocery parking lot, as any true American would. I expected to find scores of illegals hanging around in their straw hats, looking for work tending my landscape needs. All I would have to do is pull up and ask for two workers. I would pay them about 5 bucks an hour and I could sit back on the couch for some serious TV viewing.

But it does not work that way, sir.

There are no Mexican guest workers here. There are no Mexican restaurants here. We don't even have those clean cut guys at intersections with signs about working for food and God blessing us. We don't even have intersections. You people back in the States have no idea how lucky you are to have that so called "immigrant" problem. Or that "homeless" situation.

Out here, they have a phrase...DIY ...do it yourself.

Why wasn't I told???

After days and days of dirty work, Kimberly and I decided we needed help from a pro. Again, here, you pay $20/hr. for ONE person.

Plus, they have this thing called "tea", which is like a short siesta, without the sleeping. It happens around 11 AM...EVERY DAY.

The whole population of the country stops and rushes to sit down with a cup of tea (with milk??) or coffee. They need a baked thing too, which is usually a scone. A scone is a biscuit. And a biscuit is a cookie. A cookie is also called a cookie. The language barrier here is absolutely Insane!

Speaking of cookies, Kimberly is becoming actually famous for the cookies, as you might imagine. They are very "dear" to make at about a buck apiece. She had been making them with Macadamia nuts and we must be a long way from the country of Macadamia because they sure are expensive.

But, they are actually even better cookies than before. It might be the butter.

Anyway, we usually need to suppy the tea, which could even be pizza from the one Pizza Hut here in Nelson.

Soooo... we have hired Gurlie (Gorley) as our gardener. She is from Denmark and has been here 40 years. She is an expert on local plants and will be here one day a week to kneel next to us and help pull and prune. She says it culd take a year to get control of the place.

That's a lot of biscuits.