A dog’s tail …

by Paul Campbell

Blowin’ hot an’ cold ona farm

Gidday readas. Seems the whether has the Boss a bit wurried eh? I was having a cool-off ina dam behind tha woolshed last Sattiday, wena Boss yelled at me ter let outa the water an’ hava shake, cos’ his gerlfrend Sharlene was comin’ froma homested with cuapptees. “Yah don’t wanna shake water orl over her Dog.” Quite rite readas, not that way to snaffle a scone eh?

Well, we was havin’ smoko an Boss told Sharlene he lissened to the forecast ona radio ina morning an’ it cood be a bit ofa struggle ona farm. Well, I knowed Boss gonna go off ter the next big farm protests in Wongereay next week. He an his mates are reel sick ova guvmint loading farmers up with costs and rooles. But he sed the whether was also makin’ it hard.

Then Sharlene grabbed the papa on a cupptees tray an’ opened it up.“Yer mite be rite deah,” she sed. An she read in her skoolteecher voice:

“It’s the first day of summer. Farmers who are suffering from the dry spells will have to wait a little longer. Auckland and Northland are already very dry.”

“That’s a wurry alrite,” seda Boss. “Wen I went fishin, we found the water was rilly warm, an’ not too many fish around.”

“Yep,” sed Sharlene, an’ red some more. “We can expect more above average temperatures for summer across the country, according to Niwa’s outlook. Our ocean temperatures are warming up, and the last couple of years we’ve had marine heatwaves in our coastal waters.”

“It’s a bit scary then. We betta watch our water tanks ana dam levils too. Ya kin still hava swim Dog, but not wen it gets low an’ muddy. Yerl have go ova to the streem ona boundry eh?”

But then Sharlene sed “Gess wot, deah, before it gets dry, gess wot. Theres a big storm brewin’ way down south in Antartic. Big winds, maybe sum snow ona hills. Be worse ina South island, but we’ll still getta bita rain ina house tanks over nek week anyway.”

Boss giva grunt. “Globil warmin, they reckin. Well, I wus readin’ me grandad’s farm book, an’ he wrote they hada big drought back in 1893.

So I reckin it’s really all swings and roundabouts, the whether.” Swings?

Roundabouts? Wears the playground? I thort. Sharlene give me half a scone. “Not ter wurry Billy. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Whether always gunna be top of the farm talk round hear.”

No surprise there, eh readas.

See ya,