Spring is here again, and my camera has been busy, so today, instead of York in England, I have to write about my garden in Glen Forrest.
The view from my bedroom, into a private courtyard which is now finished, is already a delight and in a few weeks, when everything blossoms, it will be heavenly. From my study, where I write these blog posts as well as my short stories, poems and the latest novel (about halfway there), I am inspired by nature, which often includes a friendly goanna and lots of birds.
From the kitchen and living areas, this grevillea and philotheca provide a mass of colour for the next few months and further along, the irises have just begun to open.At the end of the verandah, although it only blooms for a short time, the weeping Leptospermum (I think) is a delight for me and for the bees. It’s near my vegetable pots so hopefully they will also be busy amongst the broad beans, cabbages and broccoli.
I guess all vegie growers have had success with broad beans this year as mine are growing, literally like Jack’s bean stalks. I cut them back earlier in the season, but they keep going up and up to such an extent, I don’t know how I’m going to pick them when they turn from flowers into masses of beans, but I’m really looking forward to this crop. As a child, I loved to venture to the back section of my mother’s garden, where my grandpa and I cared for the vegetables, chooks and fruit trees. I was only about three, so my contribution was mainly in picking peas or tomatoes, feeding the chooks and generally developing an interest in all things edible. It wasn’t until I had children and my own garden in the sixties, that this interest was renewed, but I was an observant child and I loved my pa, so I guess I learned by osmosis as children often do.
We lived in Floreat Park which was mainly bush when I was young. I was an only child for five years, with dad away at the war in England, so I would entertain myself by wandering in amongst the native vegetation, (always on the lookout for snakes and spiders) that was abundant very near our home. I would pick native orchids and small branches of pink myrtle, the egg and bacon plant and any other pretty flowers I found. In those days no-one said ‘You must not pick the flowers’ but as I was careful to not disturb the plants, they re-appeared every year and I continued to bring a few home to my mother every year until we left there, in 1952.
I still don’t know the correct names, but again I have the pleasure of discovering some of them on my property here in the hills. The front section of my block has been left natural and each spring I go out, like I did today, to investigate. These are some of my photos from today.