One of my favourite things to do each evening is to take off my shoes and venture into the garden. There’s something magical about feeling the earth under my feet and between my toes – warm, fresh and alive. I know it sounds horribly literal, but I feel like it keeps me grounded. It reminds me that no matter what I’ve dealt with during the day, the universe is so much bigger than all of my stress.
Nearly all of my friends and family were shocked when I first started gardening. I took two weeks off work in November (first break of 2008, such a mistake to leave it so long) and there was something quite cathartic about all of that physical activity. I dug deep into each vegetable patch, sifted out the rocks and weeds, mixed in compost and plant food, plotted where all the seedlings would go and then planted them in. It was hard work. But it was good.
I initially created the garden for Wolf. At four and a half years old, he doesn’t like eating any green vegetables and I wanted him to learn that food doesn’t just come from the supermarket – we can actually grow it too.
And although he still doesn’t eat green (food is all about colour) and selfishly doesn’t like weeding, I can’t tell you how good it feels to pick what I need. I’m currently growing lettuce, rocket, spinach, eggplant, capsicum, tomatoes and a range of herbs. The favours are more intense; I waste less and as a result, spend less time cleaning forgotten, soggy bits of green out of my fridge.
I feel really lucky to have this.