I’ve never been much of a green thumb when it comes to gardening. But I do enjoy gardens—looking at them, eating the fruit, smelling the flowers and herbs, and occasionally using them in cooking.
But my grandmother was the real gardener in the family. She grew flowers, vegetables, and fruit trees on her farm at Old Greenhills, Triabunna, on the east coast of Tasmania.
Holidays at Old Green Hills – you’ve got to be joking …
As kids, we spent many happy holidays at Old Greenhills, where we were rostered for important farm duties like weeding, shoveling cow manure, picking mulberries, and collecting shell grit. The manure came courtesy of Bessie and Bonny, the farmyard cows, and the shell grit was from Shelly Beach, just down the road. We worked our little butts off from the crack of dawn until sundown. Lucky us!
Child labour – kids have got to be useful for something …
And that something was gardening! Whenever Nanna had a major project—like building a new path around a flower bed or collecting stones from the creek to create a new vegetable patch—there was no escaping. Every available hand was on deck. Payment for our hard work? A generous sixpence an hour. There were no complaints about work conditions or pay because, well… there was no Fair Work Ombudsman.
Grandfather, the strategist, managed to dodge garden duty…
I remember asking Nanna when I was about eight or nine why Grandfather didn’t have to help in the garden. That’s when I discovered he wasn’t allowed near the garden. She told me he couldn’t tell the difference between a blade of grass and a carrot. Apparently, there had been an “incident” during one of her brief absences—when she returned, the weeds were still thriving, but the flowers had mysteriously vanished. From that day forward, the garden was strictly Nanna’s domain. We grandchildren were allowed in—to toil under her watchful eye—but Grandfather was permanently banned.
Keep planting until expiration day …
Nanna was the longest-living member of our family by decades—of course, I’m only counting those who have already dearly departed. She passed away at 96, but right up until then, she was still buying fruit and ornamental trees—the kind that wouldn’t bear fruit or flowers for another 30 years. She didn’t mind that she wouldn’t live to see the results. Maybe she was an environmentalist before she knew it. More likely, she just loved planting things.
So, who says I don’t have a green thumb?
Now, back to the little plant I’ve got growing in my backyard. Cute, isn’t it? It just appeared in my garden box one day, took over, and is now threatening to conquer the entire yard. I’ve never watered it. It thrives on air, sunshine, and the occasional drop of rain. It’s even creeping up my back steps, trying to get inside. Honestly, it wouldn’t look out of place in a Harry Potter book.
Featured Image: Courtesy of me. Some folks think it is either a zucchini or pumpkin vine. But at this stage, it just keeps growing and shows no sign of any flowers.
