...you've brought out the fair weather gardener in me. I'm a hibernating bear over Winter. Keeping warm is my primary concern. I stand next to the heater and stare out at the wreck that is the garden with a sense of misery, before averting my eyes to the pages of a cook book to sooth the soul. But lately I've been lured into the midst of the green, great outdoors. There are now tomato plants in the vegie garden, strawberries in a pot and bucket upon bucket of weeds being murdered by my glove clad hands regularly. In fact, a glance at my fingernails has just revealed residual dirt still clinging.
When this garden first became our own I wanted it to be fabulous straight away. I wanted it to reflect us and feel like home. But instant gratification and gardening don't fancy each other much. There are still disaster zones in our backyard. I think there always will be, but I keep scratching away at it. Then, when I stand back far enough to see the forest, not just the trees, I realise it's pretty great and it's all ours. It's a place for the kids to get caked in mud. A place for them to collect eggs and pinch tomatoes off the plant. A place for family and friends to gather, working up an appetite over a drink amid whiffs from BBQ wafts. It's a work in progress, too.
I love the therapeutic nature of gardening, too. Repetitive, practical activity numbs the mind of the day to day frenzy. Gathering an armful of green things to cook is satisfying and real. It cuts out the middle man with his shiny advertising and artificiality. All those little bits of simple stuff paint a big picture of home, family, sharing, and getting chummy with nature. It also keeps the kids (and their mess) out of the house. That's a few thumbs up, I say. Green ones, of course.
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