Views have always been high on my list when choosing living spaces over the course my life. Fancy kitchens and baths are nice but give me a pretty view and I will gladly overlook a dated faucet or wall to wall carpet. Those things can be changed once I move in. But the scene out my kitchen window as I stand to wash the dishes or peel my carrots is more difficult to alter after the fact.
It doesn’t have to be a grand sweeping panorama of rivers or mountains but it does have to have some connection to nature. I would positively wither in an inner city apartment with nothing to look at but the brick wall across the alley or a washing line with some tattered underwear flapping in the smoggy breeze. It is the first thing I notice upon entering any space and I immediately gravitate toward the windows and doors to see what I will be subjected to on the daily. I suffer from a bit of claustrophobia and perhaps this has something to do with my obsession to see an escape route from the walls that surround me - who knows? What I do know is that it has a significant impact on my mood. How many times have I checked into a hotel room, marched toward the window, thrown the drapes open and felt either relief or dismay over what I could see? If it is pleasing, I want to stay longer and if it is pitiful, I can’t wait to check out. I am one of those people who will pay extra for the water view when I am feeling cashed up and fret about what I will have to face when I don’t. I always feel elated when these rolls of the dice work in my favour. My current view is what one might call a small “city” garden outlook. Compared to our views in our home at Kyeema North, one might say there is really no view at all. It has been many years since I have spent any extended period of time in a densely populated neighbourhood where the houses all have tiny back yards that are fenced and only allow glimpses of the surrounding rooftops from the ground level. Many of the homes in this older part of town have built additions onto their homes, leaving almost no green space whatsoever for a garden. When standing on the second floor here to look out over the block, we see evidence of this everywhere. Some have cleverly left a small courtyard in the middle of their compound-like alterations but some have no yard at all. Having gotten used to the space I live in currently, it has taken me by surprise how much I miss it, even in winter. However, I do appreciate that I am avoiding the cold weather in Canada and I suppose there is some advantage to not having to shovel and plow snow on our long driveway. As much as I wish I could see the nearby lake from this house, at least I know I can walk a short two blocks and walk around the beautiful trail that loops 6km around the entire thing. It is the centrepiece of this town. As I sit and write about my current living space here in Ballarat, I am happy to say that I am looking out a wall of windows onto a tall, fully blossoming patch of crimson and candy pink Hollyhocks. Are they not one of the most brilliant happy flowers in a summer garden? A breeze is blowing this morning and they are swaying about, threatening to bend beyond their capacity. I just watched as a Pallid Cuckoo landed on a stem, clearly thinking it was stronger than it was, and dipped and bounced up and down like a too heavy diver on a springboard. Out another window to my right, I can see a plot of 5 slender lemon yellow Calla Lilies stretching their elegant champagne flute-like cups toward the sky as they have spent the last week emerging from clumps of spotted leaf bouquets as though they have left their mother’s wombs and bolted for the heavens. A tree in the corner of this garden stands fat, bulbous and upright. A young Baobob (aka Boab) tree that was leafless when we arrived and has since sprouted a head full of slender pale green leaves proving it is indeed alive and well - just a deciduous tree that must be a late bloomer, not unlike our Rose of Sharon in Canada. The first time I had a Rose of Sharon in one of my gardens in Ontario, I wondered if it was ever going to come back to life after winter and it was June before it finally showed me some leaf growth. The Baobab must be similar. In front of the Baobab is a small garden pond that the owners had installed and one of our jobs is to feed the fish in addition to the dog. Most of the time the small goldfish remain hidden beneath the lily pads and other plant life in the two-tiered water feature, but when we sprinkle the nourishing fish flakes twice per week on the surface of the water, they waste no time at all coming to gobble them up like hungry sharks. I enjoy this twice weekly event. The plump little swimmers seem to be of varying sizes and some are two-toned tangerine and creamy white. Their eagerness to gorge themselves on these seemingly sparse meals reminds me of feeding a baby when they are particularly hungry, their little mouths opening rapidly between bites of their favourite pureed pears. And like a satisfied infant after a good feed and ready to nap, they disappear back to the bottom of the pond to savour their supper in the cooler water. The homeowners said we were welcome to do what we liked with the garden, so of course, I couldn’t help but yank a few weeds, repot a few things and plant some tomatoes, basil and peas (there was an empty trellis) that will likely not start to produce much before we leave but will give me something to nurture while I’m here and a bit of bounty for the couple that live here when they return from their vacation. I also filled a couple of empty plant pots with some colourful annuals that should also be peaking at about the same time. As the garden is fairly newly planted, there are some young citrus trees, a lemon, a lime and one mystery tree. Lucky for us, because one night, I needed some fresh lime juice for my recipe and was able to step out the back door and pick one of the two limes that were ripe. That was a first. Tree to table in under a minute! Over our back fence, I can see a mature lemon tree in the neighbour’s garden and there are lots of lemons ready to be picked. I am gathering up my nerve to ask for a couple, as the constant tease of them being just out of reach is driving me mad. I keep waiting to see the owner in the yard one day, but so far, no such meeting has occurred. This “bonus” gardening season is a plus for sure. I have access to fresh rosemary, cilantro, parsley, basil, oregano and mint. The mint was growing in a pot and I made the mistake of moving it early on. It had begun to root through to the ground from the drainage hole in the bottom of the pot and it has punished me for doing so ever since. It has struggled to flourish disconnected from the ground and is looking a bit sad but I will continue to water and feed and talk to it and nurse it back to health. I was surprised it reacted so badly to the move but I suppose we all take time to adjust to a new home, don’t we? Despite the lack of an expansive view, I have managed to find little pockets of beauty here in this city plot of land, and had an opportunity to add a wee bit more. Good enough to keep my green thumb from fading too much before spring in Canada.
5 Comments
Flower Powered
1/10/2023 12:31:28 pm
There is the beauty of nature everywhere if you are prepared to look..... hope you have a great flowery day....
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Deb
1/10/2023 01:55:12 pm
True that! Thanks for reading.
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Cuz
1/15/2023 02:25:55 pm
I have a hard time believing that your talent with all things living will ever fade.
Reply
Deb
1/15/2023 02:40:51 pm
As long as my body hold out, I doubt you won't find me puttering in the garden!
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Carla Bethlenfalvy
3/29/2023 08:44:23 pm
I missed this post earlier on - such a lovely read! Your descriptions are so vivid that I felt I was there with you. :)
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DEBunked.I see nature as a metaphor for life. Please join me on this journey down the garden path as I explore life through story - a shovel in one hand and a camera in the other. Archives
May 2023
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