Dedicated to J, master gardener
Out and around the dome garden and back. Why not? I garb up: sunscreen, fly spray, sandals, floppy hat, and of course camera: two cameras in fact. The electric fence is switched off and the recalcitrant bush-carpentry gate open. I do not – will not – think about the black snake and the goanna who have once or twice breached security to slither, legless or savage-clawed, amongst the tall tasseling corn. I’m not afraid of the quail and the wonga pigeons who have also managed to evade electric shock, and I know there won’t be a resident wombat or wallaby: they’ve learnt the hard way to keep out.
I walk along an avenue of corn, arming aside the long leaves and breaking the odd spider web. I’m amongst a sea, an ocean of green. The green fragrance of tomatoes not yet ripe and their self-striped sleek greenness.The alien leaves of kurrajongs, seventeen seedlings from a street tree in Batemans Bay. The sombre needle-like leaves of rosemary. The feathery tops of carrot and dill. The abrasive leaves and curled yellow flowers of zucchini. The ovate-lanceolate leaves of beans. The plump-veined leaves of basil and spinach. The elongated scallops of coral lettuce. The green serrations of the white radish.
But the real star of this garden dome is the corn
And, of course, the Gardener.
The corn is now harvested, blanched and frozen, and we’ve been enjoying the garden produce in a variety of ways, not least of which is visual.