Now that I have well, almost retired, I feel relaxed enough to sit outdoors and watch the ways of the natural world. I fully appreciate the garden I have tended for years. I acknowledge the beauty of the sensational autumn roses I have grown here on the farm.
It’s often said that tending a garden is second to nurturing a child. In the absence of my grown children, I have put a great deal of energy into my garden. The winters in Western Australian are cold and often dry. The summers are very hot and mostly dry. Using a precious resource such as water to grow a lawn and reticulate a large garden is almost a criminal offense in this community.
As long as our neighbours fill and refill their swimming pools with water, through the long, hot summers, I don’t feel too guilty.
how a gardener is born
As a young child, I vividly recall the individual moments I spent with my father. I can count these on just one hand. There were so many of us that he couldn’t share his time equally between his 12 children, as much as he might have wanted. The memorable recollection was when he took the time to help me plant a small garden bed. I was 9 years old. We planted zinnia, cosmos, and marigold. At that moment, a new little gardener was born.
Gardening is one of those things for which you often need an introduction. Fortunately, I have some beautiful neighbours who ignited that passion when I moved to the country as a young woman. Their love of all things garden, their skills, and knowledge of gardening far surpasses mine.
A snapshot of my gardening efforts
Despite our dry, inland climate, the insects, and every other limitation we face towards developing a successful and productive garden, I have captured instances of my efforts (and patience) over a few years.
With due respect to nature, many of my attempts to maintain a nice garden have failed because the automatic reticulation system let me down when I have been away from the farm.
