More manure and other tall stories!

Well, the workshop might have been sparsely attended but our wonderful members still turn out in force for the end of month cocktails in the gardens! Beautiful Miss Didi brought her dad and her little friend brought her whole family! Welcome all you new members. Children raced around playing games as they do while the oldies ate the barbeque, drank the drink and talked and talked. Sat around the brazier some stalwarts saw midnight and the huge spring moon chart its way over the concrete hopper.

And the next day it was back to reality and more of that shovelling. How many trailers can we fill? We have spied a skip full of the gold but have been told we are third on the list to receive a skip. Just be careful of your children; if they stand in it for too long they will grow even taller.

We love the garden chairs, two more slatted wooden chairs, shabby and chic, have arrived. Watch out for that Paint Pot Pat! Purple, please. Pat - we know Mission Brown is a heritage colour, but...too much of a good thing...

Still welcoming more and more new people into the garden. Come one come all.

Spring is springing!

Mr Ideasman scratched his head and thought about what he would really, really like to do on a Sunday afternoon and lo and behold, a lightbulb moment, he couldn’t think of anything he would rather do than shovel horse****!

Yes, folks, intimations of spring are appearing everywhere, from the narcissus bulbs to the blossoms on magnolias. From the steaming piles of manure to the earlier light mornings. I am sure most of you are planning what you would like to plant in the upcoming spring. The shade house is there awaiting your seeds and seedlings!

Unfortunately spring has seen fit to send both a laptop and a desk top computer into such a spin that they are no longer working. Thoughts of being unused whilst Ms Tagalong works in the garden obviously caused a reverse SADS and they gave up the ghost. Mr Ideasman seems to think that Ms Tagalong is to blame by moving the laptop around. I ask you, what is the use of a laptop if I can’t lug it around into the garden anyway?

The upshot of this is that I am unable to upload photos this week, so very sorry. You will just have to imagine the steaming piles layered with newspaper, leaves and mulch or even better come along and see them and if there is a trailer full of manure.....start shovelling!

For those of you who follow this religiously from afar you will probably be unable to attend our famous Cocktails in the Garden this Friday night but we will be thinking of you as we relax and unwind after a long and strenuous week.

Work, work, work

I suppose you could say we had a quiet working bee. No raucous barbeque, no profanities during the high installation of the remaining roofing for water collection. Frog spawn was placed carefully in the bathtub. In fact, everyone planted, dug, swept, pruned and hauled mulch with great restraint. Well nearly everyone, two young interlopers thought the garden might be a good locale to sip on cider and watch the others working. You just can't get good help these days!

Curious and willing children pounded oyster shells into grit for the chickens. A lean-to was made to shelter chicken food. Ms Sweeper had the garden looking smart and tidy until a little fixer tried out the hole digger, its inaugural outing, just to see how far he could dig and dropped the soil out onto the pristine concrete! What's a garden without a little soil? Paint Pot Pat brought some wonderfully painted boards as plant markers. Pick these; seeds; seed plant do not pick and so on just to guide the multitudes visiting the garden.

So the first workshop was held. The guest speaker arrived. The chicken leaflets, printed surreptiously at work, were ready to be distributed. The sun was shining. But where were the attendants? It was a pity that our wonderful people on the chicken roster were not able to attend and ensure they are caring properly for our ladies.

So are we imposing our ideas on the gardeners? Are they telling us they don't want any workshops? Ms Mova and Ms Tagalong will have to reconsider their ideas. We will perhaps try one more with the next working bee and request RSVPs beforehand. That said, it was a beautiful weekend weatherwise and people may have had lots of other things to do.

Isn't nature wonderful? Primary schoolchildren at the Botanical Gardens in Sydney were chasing around spying flora and fauna at the start of Science Week. A duck paddling in a pond was observed by one to be 'a dusty moron'! Mr Ideasman and I laughed out loud and I don't think I will ever look at a dusky moorhen the same and neither will her friends and family as the comment appeared on national TV!

So how are we doing in the community? A lovely story reached my ears this week. Two young primary girls came down to feed the chickens but became intrigued with the amount of produce they might be able to put on their own plates. Back home they went for a container and proudly collected, washed and ate a collection of lettuce leaves, sugar snap peas, radishes and tiny tomatoes. Roll on the appreciation for low food miles!

We are growing!

Ideasman was amazed at all the new visitors who wandered into the garden last week. New residents to the area, lonesome schoolchildren, sons and daughters of community members, couples interested in fresh vegetables, organic produce and the community spirit. Well, we have plenty of that here!

We have plans too, plans for the next year of the garden. Naked calendars for fundraising are so passe, but I must admit, Ms Mova and I shook around the idea, canvassed the gardeners and thought of some lovely prospects but dismissed it for some other outstanding, original idea. Just what that is, I am not sure, necessity being the mother of invention or whatever.. We are in the process of arranging a series of workshops to coincide with the working bees. Tricky planning! You must come to the workshop and oh there just happens to be a working bee on the same day! I mustn't malign our wonderful membership; we have a very willing cohort of gardeners turning up on those days. I am sure you have read about our working bee exploits over the year and can attest to how much we have accomplished. So we are thinking of a chicken workshop (rest easy Ms NimbleFingers, we are not showing you how to ring chickens necks, pluck them or cook them) but how to ensure that they keep laying. I am glad to report that one or two of the new ladies seems to be beginning to perform. But that was said in a whisper, just in case they hear and decide not to!

Ideas so far are workshops on herbs, weed identification and maybe a series of workshops from the wonderful treefrog permaculture group working locally. Let us know what you think but I can feel my teaching hat is firmly on and it's time for education folks!

Paint Pot Pat has been busy too. The wooden table looking very much the worse for wear has been transformed, dipped into cinammon chocolate, very smart. Mr Ideasman has fixed the bottom piping to the three water tanks, beautifully flowing from one to tother and we have a tap at the end! Ms Tagalong has to get a move on and chase up the promised reticulation system from our lovely local sponsors who won't get named until it is installed!! I saw a small sink in our pile of stuff to work with and thought how good to install that off the top tanks as a hand washer when working. Careful, Mr Ideasman, Ms Tagalong might become Ms Ideaswoman. Oh, I forgot, that is happening soon isn't it?

One O Three

Ms Tagalong and Ms Mova have recently discovered a very wonderful place in our suburb and wanted to share it with you.

The smell of a freshly made cappuccino leads your nose down Union Street past the old pub. A humble blackboard welcomes you to One O Three. On Sundays between 10 and 12 the garage roller door is up and welcomes all residents to the café.

This, however, is not a regular retail café, although coin donations are gratefully received, but rather one born out of a sense of community. A place to chat, laugh and share ideas.

“Some of the best things start small and then grow,” said co-founder Dave as he explained the history of the community café. “It started with two families who knew they wanted to live together and was joined by a coffee connoisseur neighbour.”

“We acquired a second hand coffee machine and repaired it,” his friend Simon continued.

The pole pergola structure is a generous size affording cover to neighbours sitting on three plump lounges around a coffee table. A large dining table to the side is spread with Sunday papers and children run around the garden laid out with winding paths and artwork. A mural of buttons on a wall catches my attention.

“I made that,” Kya says proudly, “would you like to come and see the other art in our house?”

I clutch my frothy cup and meet some of the neighbours.

Garden spectaculars

Going into the garden early in the morning is always one of the extra special pleasures of the day. Clutching a warming cup of tea you walk up to the chicken run. The ladies await, clucking gently to you, pushing themselves up against the coop wire, jostling for early lead position out of the coop. The day is quiet, no buses or boy racers grace the urban streets. Out they come in a fluster, looking for scraps you must have brought in or race, splay-legged to the compost piles to scratch under the protective netting for some goodies which they are not supposed to have. They have them!

Admire the vegetables. The broccoli is magnificent. Untouched, unblemished the drum-like flowers raise above the pale greenery. Sparkling with dew in the early morning sun they look far too good for broccoli soup! Eat your heart out George Bush, you don't know what you are missing. But then there are probably a lot of things you don't know that you are missing, like millions of brain cells. But no, do not let politics intrude on this lovely morning as I circumnavigate the beds. Pumpkins ripening on the wall. Rocket, lush and spicy, ready to pep up that salad; ruby radishes peeping invitingly from the dark dirt; Tiny Tom tomatoes unseasonably ripening on the vine; purple mustard lettuce (possibly!)again tangy in salads; coriander, rosemary, perennial basil, chocolate mint, mint and tarragon aplenty.

One herb is rather special. Can it be called a herb? Certainly an immensely powerful medicinal herb which has been used for centuries. I could wax lyrical for pages but will let you click on the link if you wish to find out more about the wonderful comfreyand its ability to do most things! Our plants are ready to sprout up in spring and provide us with several cuts for composting and feed.And so the splendour continues. How wonderful to contribute to slow food and eliminate those food miles racked up by the vegetables in the supermarket. It is a joy in the evening as the sun fades to pick my herbs for cooking and to collect saladstuff to give to my daughter who being Ms Glamourpuss certainly doesn't eat enough 'greens.' I did tell her about a community garden starting in Redfern, she reports nothing has happened as yet and commented that is where the drunks and reprobates hang out! It takes all sorts!

The new ladies!

I have been sending such good waves of love and affection to the new chickens. I have been trying to make them understand that they are in a lovely, friendly new run with plenty of loving care and fresh food every day. The six little ladies were left outside the garden in a very small pen and obviously felt a little unsure of developing relationships with our four who in no uncertain terms were establishing the new pecking order.

Well, actually I have been harbouring murderous thoughts as not one seems to have laid an egg yet! Thoughts of cooking pots, chicken soup or coq au vin float around with the universe of love. I fear the gift may well be six chickens who have lived out their useful egg-laying lives and were in need of a sanctuary.

Personalities are slow to rise. Our poor black sheep, the white hen, seems to lose an inordinate amount of feathers around the run and in the pen. Anyone out there need a new doona? Ms Mova and I went in last night to check the little darlings were locked up. The second pen's door had fallen shut during the windy day and through the gloaming I was sure I counted ten hens in the big pen. They were sat on perches, scrunched up on top of the laying boxes and answered me sleepily when I talked to them. Actually two were absent. Ms Chicken Expert was concerned that when she went in this morning to let them out, two were happily getting an early start on any delivered scraps and careless insects. Ms Mova and I mulled this over and wondered why they hadn't come racing up to us the night before. We think they must have cuddled up together in the tiny pen the six new ones arrived in. They have taken to laying in there, a clear sign that they are the chief chicks.

Think omelettes, Ms Tagalong, not chicken soup!