Stories
My Garden
We sat on the balcony sipping Earl Grey from my best china; I looked
at my guest, a sister I hadn't seen for a few years. I’d been so looking
forward to this reunion, a chance to get close to her again. In fact I
had daydreamed of how it would be, shopping together, Sunday roasts with
her and her husband, days spent giggling over childish escapades,
lunches, memories coming to life; but it didn't seem to be going to
plan. As I listened to her chatter I wondered when did she become so
snobbish, how, why or what had turned her into such a sanctimonious
spiteful know all. The Judy of my childhood would now only answer to
Judith. ‘Judy sounds so, well you know,’ she informed me. I didn't but I
let it pass.
After years of travelling and 2 husbands later I'd finally retired into
what I thought was a cozy 2 bedroom unit close to the beach. I loved it
but my sister obviously didn't agree with me. She informed me it
wouldn't suit her, too pokey, too many windows to clean, too much salt
in the air and the surf was too noisy and you can't even have a pet
here. She reckoned she'd die if she couldn't have Fluffy, rather
maliciously I thought if she couldn't have Fluffy it would be one less
cat in her household.
Her gaze rested on my few surviving pot plants. ‘Your Pelargonium is
looking decidedly sick and I hate to tell you your Basilicum is on its
last legs.’ (Why, oh why couldn't she just say geraniums and basil like
everyone else?)
‘You should see my roses this year, they are sure to take out 1st prize
again. Ida Bootle doesn't stand a chance. I don't know why she bothers
every year.’ My sympathies went out to the unknown Ida. It made me feel
like spraying Judy's sorry Judith's roses with weed killer just to help
this woman out. She then moved on to a long litany of her husband’s
shortcomings but in all fairness she tempered her complaints by saying
his veggies were the talk of the gardening club. Poor George - what an
epitaph.
Here lies George - Long suffering husband of Judith - known for his
remarkable veggies.
Then she said, rather spitefully: ‘You were always on about how you
would have a fabulous cottage garden when we grew up, well you can't
have it now can you, maybe it’s all for the best, looking at these
plants on your balcony it’s obvious you don't have a green thumb.’ Now I
reckon that was a bit unfair. I don't think the problem has been my lack
of a green thumb but rather the places and climates I have lived in.
In Malaysia I had a gardener who threatened to resign if I so much as
touched a blade of grass. Alice Springs was too hot in summer and winter
brought the Black Frosts which burnt everything in its path. In
Townsville a visit from Cyclone Althea put paid to everyone's garden.
You sort of lose heart when most of your house and garden end up 3
streets away. In West Australia I didn't do too badly but unfortunately
a Divorce and Property Settlement put paid to that little project and
even she must admit that travelling round Australia in a caravan was not
exactly the ideal time to start a cottage garden.
Then horror of all horrors, she spotted my newest plant and I swear she
actually curled her lip with distaste. How did she do that, I had to
admire her, I have read about someone curling their lip but I've never
seen it done in real life before. The object of her distain was an
artificial plant. I had finally given up the battle with the salt air
and sea winds, as had my plants and on my last foray into a nursery had
decided not to condemn any more plants to a slow death on my balcony.
Actually I am prepared to swear I heard a voice as I picked one up
saying ‘put it down and let it live Ann.’ I thought it was the God of
Plants giving me a warning and I don't believe in messing with the
occult at anytime. Anyway these days artificial plants look almost real,
in fact they are greener. I prefer the term ‘Everlasting’ to artificial
as it sounds better, more botanical somehow.
We rose and moved inside as the sun became too hot. Judy’s, sorry,
Judith's voice droned on and on I began to feel depressed, she made me
feel like a real failure. I tried to blot what seemed like a never
ending diatribe about her husband and friends. God, the woman didn't
like anyone but herself. My gaze fell on the photos of my children and
grandchildren that adorn my lounge room, another thing she didn't seem
to approve of. Said I should be firmer, she thinks they put on me and
that I should tell them I have my own life now. Said that she couldn't
be bothered with little kids now and warned me not to have them here
when she was. She really doesn't seem to have anything nice to say about
anyone or anything. I tried to tell her I enjoyed my grandchildren both
the young and the teenagers but it didn't seem to penetrate. She was off
on a tirade about some poor woman in her street; well this meant she was
leaving my short comings alone for a while.
My mind wandered and I was dreaming longingly of a nice cold chardonnay
when it suddenly occurred to me that I do have a garden. I have raised 3
children, watered, weeded and fertilized them since they were planted,
trimmed them back when they threatened to run wild. Propped them up
during high winds and stormy weather, I sheltered the weaker ones when
it got too hot and watched with pride as each budded and bloomed, only
to feel a little sadness as strangers came along and picked them one at
a time. Then joy returned as each was transplanted and in time
multiplied. Oh yes ‘Judith’ eat your heart out ’cause I do have a
garden, it’s crammed with a variety of plants, some only bloom for a
season then leave my garden but there is beauty and enjoyment in their
stay. These are friends I have made along the way. Alone each plant is
small and rather isolated but put them all together and you have a
living breathing garden, a joy to behold and a pleasure to live in.
As my sister left, she kissed the air both sides of my face and told me
not to be too upset as she knew it must hurt to know I would never
achieve my dream now, and that I must just settle for what I have.
Replying I said that it was okay and that I knew there were some dreams
you just have let go of. She said we should do this more often and I
promised to call her.
As I gently closed the door behind her, I admitted to myself she was
right. It does hurt when a dream dies, I'd realized that morning I
didn't want to spend a lot of time with this sister I'd grown up with,
we'd laughed, cried, and played together as children but as women we had
nothing in common; and sadly I realized that I didn't like the woman
she'd become very much at all.
Settle for what I've got? It works for me! I AM a very successful
gardener and my garden brings a lot of joy to others as well as myself.
Yes, I am very happy with my Cottage Garden - weeds and all.
By Ann Nichols