The wattles at the back fence are in full bloom now. We are treated to the green and gold pageantry of a southern Australian winter. On sunny winter days I am delighted to hear the hum of bees steadily working the pom-pom flowers of the wattle trees.
The soil here is building into a deep, rich, black earth. It has taken some time. Years in fact. With what I have learnt here I aim to build the soil for the New Garden much, much faster.
A compost pile lies almost forgotten in the back garden bed. Shaded now in mid-winter by the ever climbing wattles as they begin to block out the precious sunlight. I am hoping that in summer they will be an advantage as the sun will be a bit higher in the sky. We shall see. The bacteria and fungi and subterranean miracle workers do their magic under the black plastic sheltering the composting mass.
Of our new chickens, the roosters revealed themselves today. At about 6am.
Two of them are no longer with us at the close of day. I’m not happy about it, but it’s a responsibility I took on when I accepted the eggs for hatching under Clarice, our Orpington Cross Bantam. Of those that are hens we will hopefully start to see eggs from them soon given that they hatched in March.
I find myself overtired after work and then coming home and looking after family matters. As I fall into bed I have started to find a great comfort in dreaming of the New Garden and of how I will plant out the garden here for spring and summer. I lose myself in thinking of trees growing and bearing fruit. I realise that I am constantly thinking of my own newer version of the garden here. A Petit Paradis that is relocated, but which is growing in form in the mind as I fall into a slumber.