Country Life – A Labour of love

Ah, February, the month of love and my first column for the year, so I thought it would be super-lovely to write a good old-fashioned local love story to put us on a good footing for the year ahead. I met Barbara and Joe Kurmann in November last year, but have been strolling past their stall of roses at the Matakana markets with a bursting emotional heart for years. Twenty-nine years ago, Barbara and Joe had a bundle of tiny pink triplet babies in their arms and dreams of raising these beautiful little girls on a farm in Whangateau.

They left the security of their jobs and, on a whim, a prayer and a heap of little nappies, plunged themselves into growing roses. This story is what romance novels are made of. I was crushing on these guys. My heart was melting like ice-cream on the beach; daydreaming like a lovesick teenage girl lying in a grassy field. My image was of three little girls frolicking to ring-a-ring-a-Rosie with ruffle-filled dresses, pink tea parties and roses in their hair..

At that moment, I wanted to snatch a bunch of roses and run away forever with my dreams of Barbara, Joe, the three little girls and my perfect depiction of love and happiness. Of course, my dreams are free, but we all know that a beautiful love story is never a perfect bed of roses and making a living off your dreams requires hard work to see it bloom.

That glowing bunch of happiness that falls so elegantly into your vase saw the years whizz past tired and thorn-pricked hands. Three little girls up and gone, aching backs on bended knees, sweat from the hothouse that has filled a million rivers in others’ dreams. Barbara and Joe have been politely loving, aging and toiling against a working hour glass that burst long ago, gifting their brand of joy and happiness to others along the way.
Like many who grow around them, life on the land may not have blossomed into all the rich trappings of the corporate life, but it mattered not. The option for forgiveness that comes with gifting a bunch of roses to your betrothed may have escaped Joe long ago, but a man romantic enough to grow beautiful roses alongside his wife will find other ways.

As Barbara twists, turns and wraps her bundles of joy, she too daydreams about her other passion for growing passionfruit. Maybe one day she will. Meanwhile, every day Barbara and Joe watch their roses grow and chase the light, having also helped those three little girls grow strong, tall and independent. Just like the darkened soil that grows these magnificent roses, the pages of this romantic book have been turned a thousand times over. When their roses open softly and slowly on my table, I will engulf not only their scent and colour, but also the magic inside of them. Like most blooms, perhaps we are all slowly wilting, but our love need not. I close my eyes and dream of love. Maybe all along it was just a well-worn work shirt frayed along the edges, testament to time and life, perfectly pinned on the washing line against an old floral house dress – translucent and see-through to the clouds gently massaging each other in the warm summer breeze. Love is grand. Thank you Barbara and Joe, happy Valentine’s Day every day, Warmest, Jules xx

Julie Cotton
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