The Cherries of Wrath and How Hayfever Thwarted the Greatest Cherry Picker That Never Was; and the Tale of the Killer Pine Cones

I gained a job picking cherries through the Harvest Centre in Lilydale, a small town in the Yarra Valley about an hour by train from Melbourne. The plan was to become physically fit, alter my fat to muscle ratio, turn a deep caramel colour and earn incredible amounts of money being the fastest cherry picker on the farm. I could see no obvious flaws in this plan when I left Melbourne. I figured a month on the farm and I could also write that novel I've been meaning to get around to.
On arrival at the Harvest Centre in Lilydale I met with Kevin the centre manager and he promised me a lift to the farm where I would be accomplishing said goals. I picked up some provisions at the local supermarkets, having spoken to the farmer and found there would be cooking facilities on site.
On the drive out to the farm, I chatted with Kevin and asked him about the other workers. He'd mentioned on the phone I would be joined by two other backpackers, but when I asked about them he said he was no longer sure they would be coming. This is when I got the flashbacks. For those of you loyal readers out there (Mum), you will remember the debacle at the organic farm in Hawaii. Although on this drive it was daylight and I had no reason to believe I would be the only person on site, the fear began creeping in.
As I began to shift uncomfortably in my seat, countryside zoomed by, Kevin received a call from his friend Phil. Phil is a cherry picker himself and he and his wife Joy, both work on a farm in the Yarra Valley, in fact in the area we were driving through. Phil and Joy have a young son Jack (14 months old) and at the time a Korean nanny they were about to dismiss. Kevin asked me how would I feel about babysitting young Jack, instead of picking cherries?
Quite suddenly the idea of looking after a child became really appealing. I didn't commit straight away, but Kevin suggested he drive me to meet Phil and Joy. They were both working on a local farm and actually had Jack with them.
I had rather romantic ideas about working in a field picking fruit, even though I'd only recently finished reading "The Grapes of Wrath", somehow it had evoked a sense of romanticism in me. However as I walked over to Phil and Joy and noticed the flies swarming around them and the intense heat of the sun on my back, I suddenly felt a strong desire to look after their son.
It surprised me they didn't want any references, Joy later told me she just gets a good sense of people on meeting them. I think this is rather naive, but luckily for them her gut instincts were right.
I understood they lived in a caravan, on a small campground next to a farm and I would be living in a tent next door.

The caravan is hidden behind the car, no really it was that small.

Jack

Joy and Phil started the day early, so I would be needed from 5am to look after Jack. I was very concerned the first morning that on waking and seeing me (really a stranger to him) he'd become upset and Joy had said to phone if this was the case. Thankfully (and a testament to how many people have looked after Jack, or maybe because of my delightful face) he didn't cry at all and quite quickly was smiling.
Within a few hours I realised the biggest problem with my "new job", keeping Jack occupied and myself sane, the latter always a problem. There really was very little to do. I found myself on a muddy campsite (the area gets three times the rainfall of the surrounding counties), with a tiny caravan (that I quickly discovered Jack hated) and then I sneezed. One sneeze you think, big deal, surely you could still find time to write that novel?
I've always had hay fever, but lets be honest, by staying inside or taking some tablets or nasal spray it's a very manageable complaint. Don't get me wrong I still do complain about the symptoms relentlessly. However on the farm I found there was no escape, especially sleeping in a tent. I think also I was so bored it became hard to focus on anything else. However I felt I had to stick it out.
When I first spoke to Joy about what Jack likes to do, his routine etc, she warned me about the tall pine trees that line the far end of the campsite. Joy told me how the falling pine cones could kill Jack, so I should always be on the look out. I tell you the damn pine cones became an obsession! I couldn't turn away from him for one moment without hearing a pine cone fall. I think it was one of those irrational mother fears, but Joy certainly transferred it on to me.

The hand grenade pine cones.

So you've probably guessed it by now, no I didn't last long on the farm, three days I think. I have to say the longest of my life. I grew fond of Jack, but the boredom, isolation and sneezes all became too much. I told Joy and Phil how I felt and made plans to travel to Sydney to look for work. I still have to work on the fat to muscle ratio, but feel I have time and of course time to write that novel.