The Visit

Last month, for my birthday, my mum visited me and my sister here in Melbourne, which was wonderful. It was great to be able to show her where and how I live: my home, and my lovely big back yard. We cooked a lot, and sat in the living room in front of the 'fire' (gas heater) chatting and knitting. Sarah came over and we went out to lunch in my favourite local cafe. We went op-shopping at the marvellous op-shops on Sydney road.

And we spent a day out in the garden. My mum is a biodynamic farmer and a permaculture wiz and as we wandered around the garden, secateurs in hand, she had a wealth of advice for what to plant where, how to manage the gore wasp in the lemon, how to prune the peach in time for spring.

I love my mother's approach to gardening -- it's very practical and direct. We were replanting some seedlings: I, gingerly pulling them free, delicately placing them in a hole as if they were precious (and they are!), softly tucking them in. Mum would unceremoniously push them into the ground with her thumb.

'I used to think like you do, but now I plant out so many seedlings that I haven't got the time or patience,' she said burying up to its leaves a tiny, out-of-season tomato seedling that had grown in the compost. 'It probably wont survive the rest of winter,' she warned.

For me, who, for all my cyclical enthusiasm has never been much of a green thumb, took heart in her approach -- clearly these fragile things are hardier than they look. Maybe it wont matter so much if I get a few things wrong. Its all the encouragement I need to dive right in!

And then, she boarded the train and went back to the farm.