As with any end-of-year contemplation, the start point is brought to mind.
I recall that there is a recurrent pattern to the way I chase parrots from our Santa Rosa plum tree,
continue mulching bare spots in garden beds, and tend to fertiliser beneath the citrus trees:
- one navel orange with leaf curl from last week’s scorching easterly;
- a Eureka lemon which has grown straggly in the reach for its window of morning sun;
- and this semi-petrified kaffir lime in a pot on the terrace –
– which has been outstripped by ornamental pears and tends towards a bonsai form.
So, from the outset, I acknowledge the cyclic nature of any garden enterprise. Much like life.
Daughter 1 has been home for the school holiday break since her birthday, renews her first-year-as-a-teacher depleted reserves with shopping, coffee sessions and meals with friends from the city; she notices changes in the landscape which regular exposure means I have come to accommodate.
With an extra person on board, washing and bread-baking have become daily rituals…
And the books beside our blue sofa shuffle between to-be-read/reading/finished piles: