WAIRANGI.

Auckland Star, Volume LIV, Issue 95, 21 April 1923, Page 17

WAIRANGI.

AN IDEAL FRUIT FARM. A HOLIDAY AT THE BAY OF PLENTY. (By D.F.W.) The farm nestle*, iv an out-flung a;'in of the harbour. A wide, flat paddock edges the sand of the beach, above ami beyond which stretches the farm in a long gentle slope to the road. Scores of symmetrical rows of lemon and apple trees overlook the blue water, prim, tidy trees, appearing curiously unreal, so that I visualised each one fitted at the base with a. supporting block ot green wood, litce the toy Xoah's Ark trees in the far-off nursery days. But the care those trees require for the perfecting of the fruit is no child's play. Hitherto my acquaintance with commercial fruit farms has been through the pages of illustrated papers, where dainty girls peeped through blossomladen 'branches, or complacent-looking growers displayed their record crops of fruit. Now I am viewing the other side ot the fruit industry, and learning some of the demands of the picturesque trees. The ground between the trees is ploughed and sown with lupin, which is later on ploughed into the ground, forming a nourishment for the trees (humus), without which the leaves would in time turn yellow. The ploughing is done several times during tiie year, besides which the soil at tho roots of the trees must be kept loose and free from weeds. The fruit and trees are sprayed at certain stages to kill and prevent tlie many insect pests which would otherwise attack the fruit. There are about 050 trees, lemon and apple, on Wairangi, all to be pruned and sprayed. Close attention to these many requirements has resulted, on this particular farm, in the output of some of the finest lemons the province has produced. The view from the homestead, of shimmering blue water, 'below tha green of the trees, is delightful, and the property is well-named Wairangi ("heavenly" waters, or, literally, "sky-ey" waters). Passion fruit and hugo'purple grapes bang heavily on their vines near the house, and above them stretches a peach tree, laden with delicious, pinky gold fruit. iMeal time in this "land of milk and honey*' is a function to remember — especially picnics under the trees by the beach. There is a charm at any time about food which is eaten out of doors; and when most of the meal is homeTown the result is a feast fit for the gods. The plump duck, cooked to perfection, arouses no pangs of sentiment, althouga I have helped to feed it, and watched it waddling past each morning for its swim. 1 have helped to pick the big, smooth tomatoes and the apples for the pies, and admired the soft-eyed cows which contributed the cream- but I | have never met the animal which provided the slices of pink and white ham. Tlie descendants of the luckless one "-runt and sleep contentedly in their corner of the farm, blissfully unaware of their impending fate. I love the evenings here. While I sit writing on a wide sleeping porch, there comes'a soft flopping on the.lawn, and into the .brightness of the electric light gently hops a huge white rabbit. He is evidently attracted by the light, as he crouches there every night, staring at mc unblinkingiy with vivid pink eyes. . And when I return to tlie bustle and clamour of Queen Street, and this ideal holiday is long past, a lasting impression that "will always "flash upon that inward eve" will be the picture of a brightly-lighted patch of grass, where softly hops a snow-white rabbit, and over all, the peaceful calm and silence of the countryside at rest.