A Visit

A wet windy afternoon in
1950’s school holidays with
little extra entertainment
provided for children in winter.

At Mum’s request Dad took
each of us on his auctioneer’s
afternoon visits to his market
gardeners. We drove past suburbs
down muddy tracks along
macrocarpa shelter belts
edging huge paddocks
down to dingy packing sheds.

They were dark, poorly lit,
doors wide open to fields
round about, inside a layer
of filmy dry dirt covered bare
planked floors and benches.
though dark and dusty they
were alive with Chinese
families – adults, elderly,
children on holiday, all packing
vegetables into boxes and sacks.

All greeted Dad happily, greeted
me too, thrust at us paper bags,
cartons of potatoes, carrots,
cauliflower. He talked with
one man, filled in forms, viewed
the surrounding paddocks.

Then we drove away to
the next market garden.

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A Visit

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