Gertrude gets cross
I met Gertrude, the matriach of the community gardens, yesterday on my morning walk, and commented to her how hard it is to keep the vegetable patch alive on two waterings a week. She put her head on one side (her little dog, who always follows her, did likewise) fixed me with a stare and began to talk about how the Australia she knows and loves has disappeared. Why are the authorities persecuting gardeners with these water restrictions, she wanted to know. Why couldn’t they just set a ration of water for each person and leave it to us whether we spend it in having showers or keeping our plants alive. “Some of these old dears live for their gardens,” she said. “It is breaking their hearts to see everything die.”
(Old dear is obviously a relative term. Gertrude must be at least seventy I think.)
When she came to Australia, she said, it was the land of the free. Now it is all about government regulation.
“Ah well, perhaps I will be dead before it all falls apart,” she said.
“Don’t say that, Gertrude, we need you,” I told her. And she shrugged, hunched over, and went off up the street with her little dog trotting at her heels.
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POSTED IN: Environment, Freebies
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