I DON’T DO GRASS


Grass is lovely. There is nothing like ambling across vast, open areas of lush, green grass and lovely tall, shady trees. Somewhere like Richmond Gardens or The Esplanade in Fremantle.

But on a small urban block – forget it. I don’t see the point. Especially when its taking up valuable space for planting something to go on the dinner plate and doesn’t take more (water, sand, fertilising) than it gives in return (space, weeding, hmmmm, is that it?).

It’s not really an option as far as I was concerned. The grass was at the end of its time. And I’m happy to say I’m glad about it. Look at that photo. It was dry after much neglect, was full of grasshoppers during late summer, was a midnight super-highway for snails and really didn’t offer much else to the household.

The thing was, what was it going to be replaced by?

Part of the answer was more garden. My brother helped me in moving the concrete edging out further and shaping a more organic feel to the borders. Then, given that I would be having plants in pots also and that other parts of the garden were already done in pebble stones. I decided upon rainbow stone to fill in the main area and link together the two sides of the house.

An area was left aside for a pond to be installed at a later date and I spent a few weeks taking advantage of the growing pile of horse manure at a local stables, dumping wheel-barrow loads of manure onto the very, very sandy soil.

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