The morning routine…
Seven in the morning and the radio opens my eyes. There is a leadership challenge on in the Labor Party. The nation is, apparently rivetted, and even in my morning stupor I admit to being mildly interested. Coffee. Get kids up. Breakfast. Get dog on leash and walk to school. About halfway up the hill, wake up. Notice the crispness of the day, the sunlight on leaves, the way the median strips are already brown from lack of water, and it is only just the beginning of summer. Worry. Drought is an anxious thing.
Drop kids at school and take dog for run in park. The stream at the bottom has dried to a few muddy patches, and the rubbish of the city is collecting there - plastic bags, of course. Soft drink bottles. An old computer keyboard. Shopping trolleys which surely find places like this the ideal breeding ground.
Walk along the track to the community gardens, unlock the gate and see all the good things growing. Everyone else’s beans are higher than mine but my sweetcorn, having sulked all through the cold snap a few weeks ago, is now waist high. There are green tomatoes on the Roma plant, and the basil is beginning to look as though it may one day produce pesto.
The dog is smiling at me. She knows what life is about.
Alfonso, the old Italian guy who has the neighbouring plot, talks to me about the importance of digging. “What is this no dig gardening? Huh! Pa!” He almost spits. “You double dig, you have no problems.” I did double dig this plot, fortunately, given he is my neighbour. I don’t think he knows about my other one, up against the back fence, which has never seen a shovel. Alfonso, though, grows the best veggies on the block, so it pays to listen to him. And he gives me some capsicum seedlings along with the lecture.
Plant the capsicums, water them in, then a walk back home along the stream and across the playing fields. At home, fill the upturned soft drink bottles that deliver a slow stream of water to my camellia plant.
Settle down to the computer, and find that the meeting over the Labor Party leadership is still in progress. I am less interested. I have a little dirt under my fingernails from the planting of capsicum seedlings. the dog is still smiling. One day it will rain again. All is right with the world.
Tags: dirt-under-fingernails, gardening, The-meaning-of-lifeRelated Stories
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