<img id="image74" src="http://samwilson.id.au/wp-content/uploads/2006/01/garden_map.thumbnail.jpg" alt="Map showing location of my garden plot." height="86" width="128" class="alignright" />I’ve got a community garden plot at the COGS O’Connor garden. It’s 9×5 metres, on an old tennis court, and has nothing but weeds growing on it at the moment (because I only picked up the key yesterday). A. and M. have also got plots there; we’re all neighbours in the north-east corner, and hooray for that! :-) [For some reason, I hesitate putting people’s names on this blog, they mightn’t like it y’know.]
I have a number of rather peculiar ideas about what I’m going to do with this plot (peculiar to some ways of thinking about the thing, of course; but then everything’s peculiar to some way of thinking isn’t it?). I want to plant beans, to follow in Thoreau’s tread, learn how he “came to love my rows, my beans, though so many more than I wanted. They attached me to the earth, and so I got strength like Antaeus. But why should I raise them? Only Heaven knows.” It’s what inspired me when I was eighteen, and nothing much has changedâ€¦ it’s just that I’ve not done much since then. I’ve an idea to have a morning seat in the garden, a place to sit, a place to writeâ€”prehaps even to have teaâ€”and tend to the garden. I’m sure I’ll be laughed at, I usually think I will beâ€¦
I’ll get the camera working again, record (visually) what’s going on, but really I think I’d be better off sticking to text.