It was the novel The Secret Garden that lured us into the property that we called 'home' in Sydney. I remember the first time that we walked through the front gate and saw the vision of a lush (but over grown) garden twinning around the gate and the hidden wall. It was urging Martin and I to take a spade in hand and give it some TLC and that is exactly what we did.
We tended that garden daily to fulfil the dream we had. We tamed the tresses and brought beauty and joy into our family home. Our lounge room window was like an invitation to wander outside. To enjoy the green, to soak up some colour and life. Our garden was transformed into our own Secret Garden.
For me, gardening is therapeutic. Working the soil, sowing the seeds and selecting the perfect bulbs. We'd watch the weather to be sure that our 'babies' had enough sunshine and water for them to bloom into beauties.
We are currently on the other side of the fence. Our house in Melbourne has only a few square metres of soil to create beauty. Yes, we have tried but our garden lacks sunlight and therefore lacks lovely colourful blooms. It is frustrating and a bit boring.
To remedy this, I have become a garden tourist. I peak behind hidden walls and gates just to get a hint of a magnificent garden. I point out the different plants that we spy in our local park to the kids. I even have my own little garden notebook that I scrawl my ideas and thoughts in. I have become a garden 'idea' thief in the hope that one day I can put all the ideas together and create another ravishing garden that other garden tourists would want to peak into and steal 'my' ideas.
One day.
One day.
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