I have been spending a lot of time in the garden lately and it got me reflecting on how much gardening has influenced my life. I have always been a gardener. It is innate and instinctual. I had my first vegetable garden when I was 10. My Nonna Matassoni, who was an extraordinary gardener, helped me turn a tiny patch of dry sand into a flourishing vegetable garden. In true Italian style, Nonno converted his entire backyard in a vegetable garden. His enthusiasm for the garden was contagious and as a child I loved spending time with him there. Grandfather Honeychurch had a more delicate interest gardening. His green house was full of exotic orchids and his garden was a monument to Rhododendrons and Camellias. Although he died more than 20 years ago I still have a few of his orchids. They are living memories of him.
Later in my life gardening brought me together with a wonderful lady. Muriel and I started talking over the fence as we worked in our gardens and soon became friends. I built a green house for her a few years ago with some old windows she had salvaged from an airplane hanger in Vancouver. She uses it on a regular basis but the best thing about the green house is that during the cooler months of September and October we meet there for afternoon tea. We sip tea from her mother’s fine china tea cups and solve all the worlds’ problems. Sometimes we are there for hours. She is in her 80’s and is one of my closest friends.
Through Muriel I met Jim Comrey, also in his 80’s. Jim had a beautiful organic garden with rich black soil the texture of talcum powder from years of compost and seaweed. I pulled weeds, planted seedlings, and under his watchful eye dusted sulfur on his begonia divisions. After a while gardening was secondary to a cup of tea and a good yarn. I got a first hand account of what it was like to be a Major in the Burmese jungle during the 2nd world war. Jim introduced me to Jean Sturdy. She was a lovely, gracious, courageous woman. Jean was a fabulous story teller. While tending to her garden I learned that she had served in the British air force during the 2nd world war and her husband was a bomber pilot. She came to Canada as a young war bride. We became great friends. She would discreetly slip $10.00 into my hand for helping her. At first I objected to being paid until I realized the ten dollars enabled her to ask for help while leaving her dignity in tact. She was in her 90’s and still working in her garden.
Gardening has influenced and enriched my life in so many ways. Gardening is how I make my living. The physical act of gardening makes me strong. It grounds me in a world that sometimes feels like it is unraveling at the seams. My family and many of my friends have been nourished from the food that I have grown. When I stand in my garden marveling at my beans and tomatoes I feel connected to the earth. I am responsible for its well being. Gardening connects me to the past, helps me live well in the present, and will nourish me into the future.
I was once a child in the garden being guided by adults. In middle age I am teaching my 3 year old son to plant seeds and honor bees. Through the Botanical Garden Societies “Gardeneers’ I am able to help other children connect to the earth. I feel I am responsible for passing on the knowledge that I gained from my elders. Gardening nurtures and nourishes our existence as human beings. Fortunately my story is not unique. We all have our roots in the earth.
I have lived in Canada for over 15 years and since I have been here I have had to use an electric clothes dryer to dry my washing. Clothes lines are just not Canadian, at least for the majority. Granted the temperature here isn't really suitable for most of the time. Nobody wants to hang their clothes on the line when the temperature is 22 degrees below zero but even when the sun does shine most people rely on the clothes tumbler. The problem for me is that it's just so UN Australian. Every time I turn on the dryer I am drowning in this enormous sea of guilt. That's a lot of guilt when you calculate fifteen years worth. So recently my lovely husband and I built this beautiful clothes line to hang our washing on. I love it sooooo much, even if I can only use it for 3 months of the year. I know it doesn't seem like much to make a fuss about but it is worth a million dollars to me. I love the crisp fresh smell of air dried clothes. I love the feeling of a scratchy towel when I get out of the shower. I especially love the moment of solitude I experience when I'm hanging out the clothes. It is one of lifes simple pleasures. Now I will admit that my new clothes line is no Hills Hoist but I think Lance Hill would still be proud. 
