We have a garden.
We don't have an all-encompassing-survive-off-the-land style garden, but we have a garden that grows vegetables that we eat, and herbs that make cooking exciting (and delicious). This may sound like a mundane thing. But it feels pretty magical.
I grew up for the most part in the country. Having a garden was pretty bog standard in that country lifestyle, along with many other things that helped our family to be fairly self-sufficient in terms of food*. My parents taught us how to grow plants, and encouraged us to do so - giving us our own little patch in the big garden to grow what we wanted. But I soon gave up on my piddly little radishes. The whole enterprise was just not exciting enough. Nothing seemed to happen fast enough, and I was never the most patient child.
And big me was much the same. The few times a poor plant was foisted on me from well meaning friends and relatives it didn't take much before it perished. I just figured I had a 'brown thumb' - plants were just not for me. This wasn't helped by the fact that I've always hated the feel of dirt on my hands** and was perpetuated by living in flats - where starting a garden always seemed an exercise in futility when you moved as often as I did through my early 20's. I only lived in one flat that had a garden, and when it was my turn to 'tend' it (we had a roster, so I had to do it once a month) I'd kinda just phone it in (sorry Mindy, Miriam and Steph, I did feed the turtles though)...
But in our flat in Pt Chev we had a little success with a small vege patch which had been put in by my gung-ho husband. Because it wasn't mine, I didn't care about it. But then, stuff started to grow in it. And then I had a little interest in it. And then I was home more than Murray was so it made sense that I looked after it. And then it was pretty much my patch. In that garden we managed to grow rhubarb and kale (two very hardy crops). Which is not really a lot. But to me it felt like a success as:
a) We'd grown something that didn't die
b) We'd grown things we could actually eat in our own back yard.
Once we bought our house here in Sunnyvale, we decided all bets were off. Whilst the inside of our house remained as is until recently, I started remodeling our gardens as soon as we got here. I got rid of the flax and lilies (and cockroaches) to make way for herb gardens. And Murray, with help from his Dad, put in some raised beds along the sunniest fence line for veges. We were all set to get stuck in and 'grow our own'.
But with unexpected surgery followed immediately by pregnancy, then more surgery, then a baby then another (unexpected) pregnancy and baby we've struggled to put in as much energy as we'd have liked. Nevertheless, doing little bits here and there over the past 3 1/2 years has started to pay off.
When we arrived there was an orange tree. Now our property boasts a nectarine, a pear, a mini-feijoa, guavas and a pomegranate tree. The trees were gifts besides the feijoa which we planted over Etta's whenua***, the guavas which were 'rehomed' from the bach and the macadamias that were 'rehomed' from that-spot-up-the-road. While these are not all fruiting (yet) we enjoyed our first pear and nectarine bounty this past Summer. And Etta's tree has its first few feijoas poised in readiness for picking some time in the next month.
In fact, I was recently curious as to how many edibles our small section homed so I counted them. At last count it was 30 different herbs, plants and trees**** (including lavender, aloe-vera and puha - all of which are edible). All of which, bar the orange tree, we have planted ourselves.
So how has my thumb slowly changed from brown to green you ask? The truth is it hasn't. My basic principle when it comes to gardening is if it doesn't work, try something else. We have planted a great many things that have not survived: carrots, broccoli, beetroot have all succumbed in our garden (mostly due to diligent, evil cats). And my first attempt at growing stuff in the greenhouse was thwarted by my inability to remember to actually water the plants. So everything that grows well at our place either does so because it's hardy or it's interesting enough for me to pay attention to it. I recently set an alarm for watering in the greenhouse that goes off every morning so I can't forget to water in there (hopefully I will build a habit and remember on my own). This is the only reason anything is alive in there besides slugs, snails and skinks.
Another basic principle I have is that, like painting, gardens need a decent primer. So starting out with decent soil means right off the bat you are more likely to succeed. Putting in raised beds really helped with that. It meant regardless on the soil quality at our house, we could (almost immediately) plant a successful garden. Composting our food and plant waste helps feed and maintain the health of our garden. And throwing our coffee grinds into the mix doesn't hurt it either (and helps justify Murray's weekend coffee benders).
We're not big on chemicals and pesticides (and I'm a tight-arse) so we try to manage disease and bugs through organic fixes like home made sprays, companion planting and plant rotation - none of which are difficult things to do after a little practice at which solutions work for you and your garden.
And now, after our first bumper Summer harvest, I'm totally in love with it. I even decided to make up an annual planner for our section so that we can eat more from our garden year round:
While I initially started gardening entirely for practical reasons, of late I have started growing more plants that just make me happy. Artichokes are edible, but they are also flower into the most glorious bee traps. Pattypan squash are called pattypan squash! Not only do they have the cutest name in the world, but they have to be one of the prettiest vegetables out! Cape gooseberries remind me of picking them as a child at the house of a friend of the family and peeling off the papers for a tart treat. There is such magic and colour and life in a garden. I'm only just discovering this now.
And the best part of all of this is I get to share this with my family. In the meals I make, and the learning and play outside in and among that vibrant colour and life. And not just our kids, but with our broader family and community. It's an opportunity for me to share resources with those in need. An opportunity to share plants when our gardens runneth over in reseeded babies. An opportunity to feel pride and joy in the simplest thing. And it's all in our own back yard.
* chickens for eggs, fishing (for fish), fruit trees - contained and wild, going mushrooming, berry picking, hunting for deer and pigs, working for payment in 'half a beast' (half of a butchered cow - which kept a family in meat for a long time).
** And flour and clay. I just don't like it. I can't really explain it but it makes me feel pretty icky. If I make you scones or gingerbread just know I must really care about you cos I have to breadcrumb the butter into the flour which means touching the flour which is horrid. And I can actually throw clay - it's something I can naturally do. But I really can't cope with the feeling of the clay on my hands, so I gave up on ceramics (yes yes, I'm a weirdo. Whatever).
*** Abby had a tree too. A mandarin tree. But Murray accidentally mowed over it... Come Spring she will have a new tree - one of the Macadamia's currently thriving in our greenhouse. Which will be housed in something bright to deter from any future mowing...
**** dill, rosemary, borage, thyme (x2) oregano, basil (2), fennel, nasturtium, parsley (x2), mint, courgette (x2), silverbeet, kale, spinach, tomatoes, potatoes, artichoke, strawberries, gooseberries, rhubarb, orange, pear, mini feijoa, nectarine, pomegranate, guava, macadamia, aloe vera, lavender (x2), puha
This is some of it - courgettes growing in our old bath tub!
We don't have an all-encompassing-survive-off-the-land style garden, but we have a garden that grows vegetables that we eat, and herbs that make cooking exciting (and delicious). This may sound like a mundane thing. But it feels pretty magical.
I grew up for the most part in the country. Having a garden was pretty bog standard in that country lifestyle, along with many other things that helped our family to be fairly self-sufficient in terms of food*. My parents taught us how to grow plants, and encouraged us to do so - giving us our own little patch in the big garden to grow what we wanted. But I soon gave up on my piddly little radishes. The whole enterprise was just not exciting enough. Nothing seemed to happen fast enough, and I was never the most patient child.
And big me was much the same. The few times a poor plant was foisted on me from well meaning friends and relatives it didn't take much before it perished. I just figured I had a 'brown thumb' - plants were just not for me. This wasn't helped by the fact that I've always hated the feel of dirt on my hands** and was perpetuated by living in flats - where starting a garden always seemed an exercise in futility when you moved as often as I did through my early 20's. I only lived in one flat that had a garden, and when it was my turn to 'tend' it (we had a roster, so I had to do it once a month) I'd kinda just phone it in (sorry Mindy, Miriam and Steph, I did feed the turtles though)...
But in our flat in Pt Chev we had a little success with a small vege patch which had been put in by my gung-ho husband. Because it wasn't mine, I didn't care about it. But then, stuff started to grow in it. And then I had a little interest in it. And then I was home more than Murray was so it made sense that I looked after it. And then it was pretty much my patch. In that garden we managed to grow rhubarb and kale (two very hardy crops). Which is not really a lot. But to me it felt like a success as:
a) We'd grown something that didn't die
b) We'd grown things we could actually eat in our own back yard.
Once we bought our house here in Sunnyvale, we decided all bets were off. Whilst the inside of our house remained as is until recently, I started remodeling our gardens as soon as we got here. I got rid of the flax and lilies (and cockroaches) to make way for herb gardens. And Murray, with help from his Dad, put in some raised beds along the sunniest fence line for veges. We were all set to get stuck in and 'grow our own'.
But with unexpected surgery followed immediately by pregnancy, then more surgery, then a baby then another (unexpected) pregnancy and baby we've struggled to put in as much energy as we'd have liked. Nevertheless, doing little bits here and there over the past 3 1/2 years has started to pay off.
When we arrived there was an orange tree. Now our property boasts a nectarine, a pear, a mini-feijoa, guavas and a pomegranate tree. The trees were gifts besides the feijoa which we planted over Etta's whenua***, the guavas which were 'rehomed' from the bach and the macadamias that were 'rehomed' from that-spot-up-the-road. While these are not all fruiting (yet) we enjoyed our first pear and nectarine bounty this past Summer. And Etta's tree has its first few feijoas poised in readiness for picking some time in the next month.
In fact, I was recently curious as to how many edibles our small section homed so I counted them. At last count it was 30 different herbs, plants and trees**** (including lavender, aloe-vera and puha - all of which are edible). All of which, bar the orange tree, we have planted ourselves.
So how has my thumb slowly changed from brown to green you ask? The truth is it hasn't. My basic principle when it comes to gardening is if it doesn't work, try something else. We have planted a great many things that have not survived: carrots, broccoli, beetroot have all succumbed in our garden (mostly due to diligent, evil cats). And my first attempt at growing stuff in the greenhouse was thwarted by my inability to remember to actually water the plants. So everything that grows well at our place either does so because it's hardy or it's interesting enough for me to pay attention to it. I recently set an alarm for watering in the greenhouse that goes off every morning so I can't forget to water in there (hopefully I will build a habit and remember on my own). This is the only reason anything is alive in there besides slugs, snails and skinks.
Another basic principle I have is that, like painting, gardens need a decent primer. So starting out with decent soil means right off the bat you are more likely to succeed. Putting in raised beds really helped with that. It meant regardless on the soil quality at our house, we could (almost immediately) plant a successful garden. Composting our food and plant waste helps feed and maintain the health of our garden. And throwing our coffee grinds into the mix doesn't hurt it either (and helps justify Murray's weekend coffee benders).
We're not big on chemicals and pesticides (and I'm a tight-arse) so we try to manage disease and bugs through organic fixes like home made sprays, companion planting and plant rotation - none of which are difficult things to do after a little practice at which solutions work for you and your garden.
And now, after our first bumper Summer harvest, I'm totally in love with it. I even decided to make up an annual planner for our section so that we can eat more from our garden year round:
While I initially started gardening entirely for practical reasons, of late I have started growing more plants that just make me happy. Artichokes are edible, but they are also flower into the most glorious bee traps. Pattypan squash are called pattypan squash! Not only do they have the cutest name in the world, but they have to be one of the prettiest vegetables out! Cape gooseberries remind me of picking them as a child at the house of a friend of the family and peeling off the papers for a tart treat. There is such magic and colour and life in a garden. I'm only just discovering this now.
The most beautiful artichoke flower with bees
Cape gooseberry in its cage
Parsley seed stars
Baby Patty pan squash
Etta with one of our favorite garden pals
A small haul of cherry tomatoes
And the best part of all of this is I get to share this with my family. In the meals I make, and the learning and play outside in and among that vibrant colour and life. And not just our kids, but with our broader family and community. It's an opportunity for me to share resources with those in need. An opportunity to share plants when our gardens runneth over in reseeded babies. An opportunity to feel pride and joy in the simplest thing. And it's all in our own back yard.
* chickens for eggs, fishing (for fish), fruit trees - contained and wild, going mushrooming, berry picking, hunting for deer and pigs, working for payment in 'half a beast' (half of a butchered cow - which kept a family in meat for a long time).
** And flour and clay. I just don't like it. I can't really explain it but it makes me feel pretty icky. If I make you scones or gingerbread just know I must really care about you cos I have to breadcrumb the butter into the flour which means touching the flour which is horrid. And I can actually throw clay - it's something I can naturally do. But I really can't cope with the feeling of the clay on my hands, so I gave up on ceramics (yes yes, I'm a weirdo. Whatever).
*** Abby had a tree too. A mandarin tree. But Murray accidentally mowed over it... Come Spring she will have a new tree - one of the Macadamia's currently thriving in our greenhouse. Which will be housed in something bright to deter from any future mowing...
**** dill, rosemary, borage, thyme (x2) oregano, basil (2), fennel, nasturtium, parsley (x2), mint, courgette (x2), silverbeet, kale, spinach, tomatoes, potatoes, artichoke, strawberries, gooseberries, rhubarb, orange, pear, mini feijoa, nectarine, pomegranate, guava, macadamia, aloe vera, lavender (x2), puha
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