Ken Marfell

From Shirley's brother, Bruce.

Ken was a big part of my life from the moment I met him. 

My brother Ross loved him and was a groomsman at Shirley and Ken’s wedding.

He changed me from a city slicker to a farm boy with the hard work on the farm that I loved, and I visited Seddon every school holiday and many times since.

We did things like rounding up sheep, stone picking, post hole digging, discing, drilling peas, and loading hay. 

He taught me to drive the tractor and the car when I was 10.

After work we would come home to a warm house with the smell of a beautiful roast mutton dinner that Shirley had cooked.

She also cooked for our lunches and the sharing gang.

On Saturdays we would park at the Seddon Domain to watch Awatere play, and Ken often scored a try and a goal kick.

When I told him I played soccer, he said that’s a sissies game, rugby is better, so I immediately changed to rugby when I got back to Wellington even though the games I watched him play at the Seddon Domain scared me a bit. 

On Sundays we would go for a drive to Marfells Beach for mussels or Picton for boysenberry ice cream.

My mum, dad, and all of the family also loved Ken and visited when they could. 

Ken always said come over any time, including the last time I saw him a few weeks ago.

I wish I had spent more time with him and the family.

We miss him heaps, but he’s out of pain and will always be in our hearts.

Love, Bruce.

From Deb.

Uncle Ken, such a beautiful, kind man who always had a cheeky smile on his face.

I have such fond childhood memories of Ken and my visits to the farm. 

My sister Tania and I spent every possible May and August school holiday on Ken and Shirley’s farm from a very young age. 

It was where we found our love for horses, and as city kids from Wellington, we managed to convince Mum and Dad at the ages of 8 and 10 that we were old enough to get a horse. 

This would never have happened if it wasn’t for our time spent with the Marfells on the farm. Not to mention the live chicken bought back from one of our visits in a Weet-Bix box.

Ken loved to throw us into all the farm duties without taking into account we were city kids and he did it with such fun and love and we enjoyed every moment of it, not sure about the health & safety aspect! 😃

I treasure these memories of Uncle Ken and my time on the farm and thank him for all his love, care, and kindness. He will be missed by all forever and remembered as a great New Zealand farmer.

We love you, Ken; rest in peace.

Love Deb xxx

Poem by Jenna

At Straitsview farm, where breezes play,


And skies stretch wide in soft array,


A farmer walked with boots worn true—


In overalls of faded blue.

Among the sheep, the crops, the peas,

He moved with calm, with quiet ease.

We’d share a smile, a pod, a treat,


Fresh-picked and green, so crisp, so sweet.

He’d grin that cheeky, knowing way,

With twinkling eyes that lit the day.

With hands made strong by soil and sun,

He rose each day till work was done.

He wore his Awatere pride like gold,

In every tale he ever told.

The valley's dust, the river’s song—

He carried both his whole life long.

In Seddon out Seaview way,

He watched the skies at break of day.

And when it cleared, across the blue,

The North Island came into view.

And from that ridge, Ken a younger man

Looked out across the blue sea span—

Not knowing yet, but fated still,

To love the girl beyond the hill.

She walked the streets where harbour lights gleam,

He worked the land, chased a different dream.

But paths will cross when hearts align—

The farmer and the city girl, by grand design.

Shirley and Ken, through work and charm,

Raised three bold boys on the family farm.

While Ken worked stock and tilled the land,

Shirley played tunes with a gentle hand.

The old piano sang through the hall,

A soundtrack to love, and growing up tall.

So here’s to Grandad—strong and true,

With hands of work and eyes of blue.

May every sky and sea remind—

Of love he left, and life so kind.