A SENSE FOR GARDENING

To think I spent years and years avoiding gardening.  In fact I think back in history  as I watched my Mother in the garden spending all those hours on her hands and knees, in the blazing sun, pulling weeds, digging, cultivating, and sore and sorry for herself at the end of the day and secretly thought she was a bit of a loon!  But now I get it!  I totally understand the passion of gardening, its become my solace, a place to spend five minutes a day just to chill, and a weekend’s adventure.  My garden fills me daily with contentment, a true gift to all my senses.

Baby beetroot plants.

The obvious sense that pervades is the calming sight of my garden.  Its location just outside the window of the place where I spend most of my week working in our business.  The view a palette of various green and yellow hues, calming, cool colours which seem to bring a sense of peace to my mood.  When I am at my most hectic and chance to glance out to glimpse a peewee swoop on an unsuspecting insect, a breeze ruffling the lettuce leaves, or a brand new mauve flower the promise of an eggplant to come somehow the frazzle becomes slightly less frazzling.

On certain days a waft of the heady scent of rosemary drifts in on a breeze while I am working.  My sense of smell is indulged as I walk through the garden.  When I venture out I run my hand over each herb in turn, scrunching the leaves and burying my nose in my palm to breathe in the fragrance of Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme (sing with me…), Oregano and Lemongrass.  When I dig, the fresh earth smells rich and dare I say “earthy”.  When my husband mows around the crop circles the grass smells fresh and makes me sneeze.

Climbing beans

I lift the lid on the worm farm and I hear the squirming of hundreds of slithering creatures squelching through the decaying fruit, veg and paper.  Birds chirping, Scruffy barking at birds chirping and me yelling at Scruffy to stop barking at birds chirping.  Sitting at my cute green table, nicknamed the “beer garden” by our neighbour, quiet overtakes me and peace reigns supreme.

The Beer Garden!

Hands in the earth, its cool and soft, the rough bark on the tree stump where my weather station sits catching and measuring rainfall, gauging the temperature and showing which way the wind is blowing. 

The Weather Station zip clipped to a tree stump.

A feast for the senses, a garden of joy, a place of peace, my happy place.  Don't live your life without planting a seed, watering it and watching it burst up through the soil, produce two leaves then four, a flower, a fruit, pick it, smell it and eat it.  Nothing like it.  Now I get it.

Nothing like planting something from seed and watching it sprout.