I would describe my garden as an eccentric, organic, working garden that has a purposeful and aesthetic feel to it. It has a touch of romance with its design of pathways to walk through and its inclusion of whimsical sculptures and surprise toys in the vegetable beds and floating in the fountain.
I have lived here since February 1974 which makes it 41 years. The garden has known many incarnations beginning as a spacious conventional garden with trees and shrubs growing against the fence; a decorative garden with flower beds that disappeared when it became a footy field for my growing son. Now its lawn is receding as vegetable and flower beds take over.
I started gardening when I moved into the house. I had no background. My family consisted of urban and urbane, cultured, intellectual folk who preferred a good political debate and a neat, clean home to getting dirty working in a garden, an activity which they regarded as for "peasants". They liked sitting in gardens and admired trees and nature without being hands-on about it.
Over the years I planted in stages. I learned about native trees and ground covers; herbs, annuals, perennials bulbs and ferns as I included them in the garden. In the 80s I kept an album with photographs of the plants and notes of when they'd been planted and their progress.
There were years when I wouldn't garden while I concentrated on studying, teaching and parenting. I involved my son and grandsons in gardening occasionally.
Over a year ago I took up gardening with passion to satisfy my desire to be as sustainable as possible. I put in solar panels, already having had a water tank and compost bins for years but had always been intimidated by the possibility of growing produce. The current surge of interest and instructions on growing produce encouraged me. I've been surprisingly successful. It's remarkable how often I think I'm a stranger to gardening because I didn't grown up with it.
I spend a lot of time in my garden each week. I eat, read, play with my dog, talk on the phone, meditate, hang up laundry, entertain guests and walk around inspecting and tending to the plants all the time. My working-gardening routine has changed radically over the past year. Instead of working for 3 to 5 hour sessions, which wore me out, I've devised a new way that I love. I now pop in and out of the garden countless times a day to compost, weed, harvest, plant, sow seeds, water, fertilise, prune and attend to the worms in the worm farm, interweaving these activities with indoor tasks. So in between indoor reading, computering, paying bills, emailing friends, studying for uni, preparing my radio program, cooking and doing housework chores I'm doing short spurts in the garden. This is great for my inconsistent energy levels and my consistent heat intolerance.
I am the only one at home who works in the garden. I employ the help of a gardener who comes once a month. He's a sensitive, gentle guy who seems to really listen to what I request and comes up with creative ideas. He loves our afternoon teas with my arty presentation and our convivial conversations.
When I have a quiet moment I sit on a chair or on the lawn in the shade looking out at the sunny garden. If it's raining I love to sit in a chair with the rain nearly wetting me. If it's hot I'll walk around the garden and stand in the rain.
I entertain my friends for afternoon tea. With my patchwork vintage cups, saucers and plates and unmatching chairs I create a quirky environment that they love. I don't have a barbecue nor a fire pit both of which I consider having but they might be too macho for me.
My treasured trees include our giant magnolia tree, an ancient tree species that my Kiwi friend told me originated in New Zealand, a crepe myrtle I planted in the front garden and a cotoneaster, roses and bulbs that predate my residence here.
If I could only save one thing in the garden it would be the magnolia tree, so old, big and shade-giving.
If my garden could talk it would say: "She's loved me passionately for 41 years. I'm the main reason she could never, and is unlikely to, leave here. She takes such good care of me and knows me well.
