The number one question I get asked is: “So you say you’re ‘working with carrots’, what exactly does that mean?”. Well in this single post I hope to answer that question for you. But first a bit on the farm itself.

Arahura Farm first became associated with my family (the Croft’s) through my grandparents, who had a sheep farm in Pine Valley at the base of Mt Fishtale in Marlborough, New Zealand before uprooting to a Horticultural property in Tresco near Swan Hill (the largest town in my general area at the moment) in Victoria Australia. Fast forward a few years and the current Arahura Farms is located in Nyah West, run by my Uncle, Aunty and Cousin and currently produces organic carrots, beetroot, lettuce and onions. Delicious.

Deeper meanings:
Ara – A Path
Hura – To Discover
Croft – Farm

The current farm is approximately 200 hectares and ever-expanding. Each property they acquire has a house on it and they’re often renovated for the workers, except the following one that I found on an evening stroll. I’m a lover of all buildings new and derelict but there’s something about this run down house on the farm that just gives me the hebey jebies. Like if this was set in the neighbouring hay-field Jeepers Creeper’s could probably come to life and kill the voluptuous blonde girl! Though I may paint it in future as it would make a beautiful painting sans Jeepers and blonde chick.

Jeepers House

A day in the life
– Rise and shine, 6 am start, 6.30 if I’m lucky!

Sunrise over the carrot fields

– It’s either a day in the shed or a morning in the fields before the sun’s burning rays threaten to wilt the decapitated Cos lettuce hearts in the back of the trailer.

I can’t think of a pun, if you think of one lettuce know.

If it’s a day in the factory, all us female travelers are dotted along the conveyor belts and the boys are on the floor. No sexism here. There’s actually none, 18 kg bags are heavy. The factory is kind of like a sweat shop, with a lot more sweat, more carrots and minus the Nike’s.

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My job is to pick out the damaged or deformed carrots, there are some fugly carrots and hilarious carrots out there. Like humans I feel it’s unfair to discriminate, call them names or laugh at the aesthetically challenged carrots they’re just as delicious as their better looking companions, unless moldy, so I demote them to juice bags for the avid home juicers out there.  Also, I’d like to clarify I don’t find humans delicious, I just believe all humans are just as amazing no matter their appearance.

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On other days beetroot’s are chuck through the intricate system of machinery and after beet day unsure whether I participated in some cold-blooded murder or just packed some sick beets?

So I pretty much in a general day I either manhandle carrots, got beaten by beets or lettuces launched at me and by the end of the day, I’m beet!

This last week wasn’t too pour at all as the farm has seen some very exciting developments, the little packing shed is getting an extension! My uncle a civil engineer turned farmer both loves and hates the thing and that was just at the planning stage. So just as I thought I’d escaped engineering for the pleasant farm life I was having plans, re-bar and software shoved in my face. Fine. I asked. Then asked some more. Dammit I just love concrete and steel. Thankfully I played it cool, coy and curious so I wasn’t asked to help with anything technical.

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While this was all going on and fighting the temptation to stay out side and watch. If this was a store front window my face would have been pushed up against it in a very attractive fashion and considering it was 34-38 degrees probably sliding down said window. Gross. Instead a couple of us got thrown in the deep end, clean the factory line which is disgusting and potentially never been cleaned to that extent before for some big-wig hot shots from Italy. Rumour has it they didn’t even go inside the shed after all that elbow grease, disappointed. Old carrots and their stalks were wedge in every nook and cranny, fermenting nicely for the fruit flies and the amazing petite Thai girl Poppy who we bundled into the barrels to remove. She loved it. She didn’t but she smiled for the photo and she’s too lovely loudly complain but I heard her muttering horrible unladylike things. Rather her than me as I was second in line to worm my way in there!

Poppy in the first carrot sorting barrel.

Instead, I got the job of manning the high pressured hose, soaking and covering in mud myself and anyone else in a 5 m range. I have started to develop a hearty sock tan line but this may have been empahsised by dirt and wet feet in shoes. One day if I chose a life on the farm my sock-tan line would be this impressive. A girl can dream.

A very thrilled cleaner taken on a very poor phone in very great light.

Great legs, pity about the desperate need for a pedi.

Enjoy lasting memories of my funky toes. I’m off to find out whether I have work tomorrow, these days off are doing my head in! Following this I’m go to cook dinner and learn how to use a go pro – wish me luck.

Adios!