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MANGAWHAI'S NO.1 NEWSPAPER
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Gardening with Gael - Mike, and alter ego, will be missed.jpg "PASSED AWAY: Mike Keating – gardener, handyman, artisan, and all-round good guy.") Our Mike died this week. Suddenly and unexpectedly.Michael Errol William Keating had been working here at the cottages for 15 years. Twice a week Mike and his blue truck turned up to assist in all manner of work. His was a very flexible job description which changed weekly. He looked after the pool, cut palm leaves, mowed lawns, built fences, repaired furniture, stressed with me over the water pump, processed waste, watched over the compost and was quality control for whatever baking we were doing. Even on the days he was not expected Mike could turn up if there was fresh baking. I suspect he could smell it as he drove past. He always knew to call in after a conference for the leftovers. He was the groundsman, tree surgeon, handyman and craftsman. He formed paths, spread shell, trimmed hedges. An artisan, Mike contributed his own distinctive style. When we needed a sofa that could turn into a bed, Mike created a lovely wooden day bed. He had plans to build a hobbit house on his property at Rakanui when he retired from the cottages. I had looked forward to seeing it. The compost, in particular, he considered his specialty. There were as many things not allowed in the compost as were allowed and he knew instantly when I had slipped in forbidden items. Pohutukawa leaves were not allowed. “See,” he would rail at me, pitch fork in hand, the top layer of the compost turned over. “Look, this layer will take months, even longer. It will not break down.” I tried slipping in damp pohutukawa leaves but was always found out. In the end I bagged them and now use them directly on the garden as an excellent mulch. “It’s amazing,” I would say to Mike, “how quickly the pohutukawa leaves break down.” Forbidden sticks and dry weeds were piled in behind the trees. About once a year Mike would scratch around in the debris and fill bags for his vegetable garden with what he called ‘black magic’. That and the compost from MPL were the secret to Mikes amazing vegetables. Mike had a great philosophy of personal responsibility. The idea of blaming others went against his beliefs. In an emergency, however, there was always his alter ego Jimmy O’Gory. Jimmy lost tools, left the tap on in the pool, cut down the wrong tree, etc. Mike and I commiserated about the general irresponsibility of Jimmy. Jimmy corresponded by email. ‘Mike,’ he would write ‘may be away an extra week in Pauanui. I am sorry Gael there is nothing I can do about it. I will try to make sure he is back next week.’ ‘Jimmy,’ I would write, ‘the legs have fallen off the chair in the gazebo. I know Mike is not keen on fixing it. Can you please mentally prepare him before he arrives at work.’ I found Jimmy to be most cooperative. Mike’s quirky sense of humour was a rare treasure and we will all miss it. And Mike/Jimmy, I promise not to put pohutukawa leaves in the compost.
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