Mother Earth's Garden

I am worried about my eggplant. I put them in at the beginning of summer, but they are still little stunted things. Certainly they are flowering, but there is no sign of the big purple fruits I adore. None of my gardening books help. Could it be that the soil needs more care? I doubt it. The zucchinis are bursting with fruit, the capsicums look happy and well.
 
This is annoying. When I lived int he Blue Mountains – with winters that got down to minus six degrees Celsius – I found I could grow eggplants all year round in my …read more

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I think there must be a direct neurological connection between the receptors in our noses and our emotions. Nostalgia, joy, revulsion and depression can all enter through the nostrils, proving that we are still creatures of sense as much as sensibility. This is one of the reasons the garden is such a rich place to be. In a few moments I travel from the revolting smell of the bag of blood and bone by the garden shed, through to the ambivalence of the compost heap (sweetness and decay), past the acrid taint of the chook poo on a neighbour’s …read more

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It’s hard to believe that a few days ago Melbourne was shrouded in smoke from the bushfires burning all round the city, and that it seemed as though it would never rain again. For weeks now our parks and gardens have been brown and dessicated. Even the eucalypt trees are showing signs of water stress – dropping leaves and bark – and the European trees are going through an unseasonal autumn, with their leaves turning brown and falling into the gutters. This is the worst drought for fourteen years, and is having more impact than any in white memory, because …read more

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Happy Christmas to all gardeners. May your carrots be long, your compost steaming and your flowers perfectly formed.

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What do you know! I was looking through some old files and found this photo, about four years old, of me and the kids in our old garden in the Blue Mountains of New South Wales. We were on our way to the local pageant, hence the fancy dress (we don’t usually look like this!!) Lachlan and I were the explorers Blaxland and Wentworth, and Clare, of course, was puss in boots. Ah memories!

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I have been asked to give some advice on composting for people with small gardens. There are several possible solutions to this dilemma, but my favourite is worms!
 Composters and would-be composters are usually stuck between two choices. Either you can have a classic heap, but be stuck with the need to aerate it by turning it – which is labour intensive. Or you can have a gooey, messy bin which takes no work at all, and disposes of your kitchen rubbish, but is not really compost in the true sense of the word.
 Worms, either by themselves or in combination with …read more

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In my vegetable patch, one plant towers over all the rest – taller than the beans, the tomatoes and even the dwarf apple tress. It is the parsnip I grew from seed two seasons ago. It takes up a whole corner of the garden. I fancy the root must now be thicker than my leg, and penetrating deep under the soil. Why is it there? The reason, dear reader, is because I love parsnip.
Lots of people have problems growing parsnips, but it is easy once you know one simple fact. You must have very, very fresh seed. Even week-old seed will …read more

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I met Mrs Ponda again yesterday morning, except now I know that her real name is Mrs Benn. She lives in a beautiful old brick house at the top of Flemington Hill, and her front garden is full of old roses. Some of them have been there more than 30 years. She has neatly staked tomatoes at the side, and the inside of her house is full of art and fine things and books. Mr Ponda always had projects, she said. The garden, though, was her project. I also found out that Mr Ponda (Mr Benn actually) was also a …read more

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Gertrude is the matriarch of the community gardens. She is the one who presides over the waiting list for plots. She is the one who decided that there should be a communal lemon tree, and where it should be planted. She arrives about once a week, grey hair wispy and eyes peering through bottle-top glasses with her little ankle-height dog struggling to stay at her heel. She has a thick accent – German I think – and if she likes you she will give you some bok choy seedlings, or a cutting of rosemary.
About three months ago, she asked me …read more

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How does one become a gardener? I should say at the outset that although I harbor a strong and mostly secret belief that gardening is what life is really all about, I am not a real gardener. I cannot tell you the common names of many plants, let alone their botanical names. My garden is mostly a mess, and I am very much a learner. I began my gardening career from a position of great ignorance, and I have not yet recovered.
It all started in the tiny back yard of a share house in North Melbourne. This was the kind …read more

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