We bid a fond farewell!

She has dazzled us with her fashionable hats, wowed us with her precise botanical drawings and charmed two of the recalcitrant chickens with her love and care. And now she is taking all her artistic talents and botanical knowledge up to pastures anew in the far North of New South Wales (together with the chickens, she tells me!).

Ms Designer a.k.a Ms Chicken Whisperer will be sorely missed. The garden blossomed with multi-coloured balloons on Saturday afternoon to farewell our lovely lady. Ms Tagalong suspects this was a dress rehearsal for the second anniversary of our beginnings and as Ms Chicken Whisperer was one of our founding members it seemed fitting that merrymakers gathered around the table, champagne glasses in hand and toasted success to her a few weeks shy of this momentous event.

Ms Tagalong just arrived, plonked down, had a wonderful cup of tea and reveled in the fact that she had not had to organise anything!


We have not seen the last of this talented lady as her work with the University of Newcastle will bring her back monthly and she will be fought over as we jostle to provide some accommodation for her.

Many successes with your ventures in horticulture and self-sufficiency. Keep us abreast so that we can update the readers!

Champagne and rain

Ms Mova is good at planning surprises, so close does she play her cards that Ms Tagalong nearly missed out on her own birthday celebration in the garden!

Veering off on her bike towards the new house she shouted to Ms Mova’s back that she was just going to see if she could get in the house. Fortunately for her, she couldn’t, and so rode back to see a little clique in the garden. Despite the near zero temperatures, well being prone to exaggeration it was probably 10 degrees with a very unhealthy wind chill. Still, the bubbles in the champagne soon warmed the cockles of our hearts and we giggled and laughed as the sun went down.

Even impromptu cocktails in the garden are worth attending! Thank you Ms Mova.

Rain and more rain this weekend have probably put paid to a lot of work in the garden but Ms Tagalong did spy some rather bedraggled faces peering from under hoods of their rain jackets shoveling out some good soil and chicken manure from the trailer. They smiled and flicked the drops off their hair as Ms Tagalong passed in her car. She thinks they were smiling; gritting their teeth could have been a distinct possibility.

In between torrential downpours Ms Tagalong ventured outside early this morning to let the chickens out. They all looked soaked except for one extremely plumped out white chicken perched directly in the middle of the roost. Rushing out they chased to the fence to see if laying pellets were forthcoming.

And still the rains came; so much so that our wonderful Union Street Café was rained out today. Thank goodness for next week although I’m not sure that the forecast is much better with flooding forecast. Mr Ideasman will need to check those rain tanks!

Boxes and ovens!

Boxes, boxes everywhere and not a thing to pack! Would that it were. Ms Tagalong has been up to her ears and eyes in boxes and packing this week and reneged on her facilitator duties for the working bee. She needn’t have worried. Ms Mova, as usual, had everything under control and when Ms T arrived in the garden with boiled kettle, milk and a few paltry biscuits, things were well under way.

Paint Pot Pat had provided a nutty slice for everyone and grabbing steaming mugs of tea she was shown what had been happening. Bricks had been picked up from several houses together with some fibro board and the site had been cleared.

On Ms Tagalong’s next foray in the garden at lunch time to partake of splendid barbequed meats, garden salad and pesto pasta (of course) she was astounded by the absolute hive of activity. There was a veritable chain gang cleaning the lime off bricks, a weeding team, a youth endeavour of a spiral herb circle outside the perimeter fence and some cutting of plastic baskets for the rosemary and lavender cuttings which incidentally are not looking too great. Methinks we all forget to keep watering them, hidden as they are in the little greenhouse.


Several hundred boxes later, Ms Tagalong is prone to exaggeration as you well know, she reappeared to have a final look before pack up time. Wondrous occurrences! Sheets of tin had been neatly stowed behind the water tanks, good hardwood was piled neatly for the next construction project, other wood sawn for fuel, cleaned bricks stood in neat piles , the outline of the base of the pizza oven had been laid and the young ones were watering the seeds in the herb spiral.


Redundant is a word that comes to mind; teamaker is another. But not one to be shrugged off Ms Tagalong is sure that she will rise again to the occasion as we celebrate our second birthday in July. So roll on working bee, come up with ideas for this splendid event, gardeners and give Ms Tagalong something to facilitate!


On another topic entirely Ms Tagalong wandered in on Sunday, just to get away from those dratted boxes you understand, and there were several children munching happily on just-pulled carrots! A sight to warm the cockles of your heart indeed. Deep in conversation was Ms Ishibaw with the Piper’s Son. After a few comments from the Piper’s Son about just coming in to glean produce, thank goodness for that, most people just like to come and admire it, Ms Ishabaw revealed that she might need a new name. So to keep in with her love of floristry where she is the happiest Ms Ishabaw is now I’m-much-happier-as-a-florist or Ms Imhaaf for those in the know!

We really are the best!

"Is there a community garden in Byron Bay?" Ms Tagalong asked the taxi driver hopefully. He should know. He had been living there since the 80s he told us. Ms Tagalong just hadn't trusted Google, surely Mullumbimby didn't harbour the closest one?

He shook his head. "There's the garden at the primary school," he offered helpfully, catching my eye in the rear view mirror, "they're always looking for volunteers."

At this juncture I hastily disabused him of the volunteering notion. "Oh I just want to take photos." At which point he lapsed into silence. Ms T was not able to ascertain if this was a surly one or otherwise. It could just have been caused by navigating the Pacific Highway, verdant greenery encroaching on both sides. Abundant growth tumbled down the hills, a playground for bushes overseen by the stern schoolmaster Mt Warning.

Bereft of the opportunity to gawk over someone else's community garden Ms Tagalong steered a walk past aforesaid primary school.


A compost heap and a few raised beds were spied through the railings. Whoops and screams from the family carnival being held on the school grounds probably explained the lack of budding horticulturalists (no pun intended)tending these beds.


So that was it. George, a long-time Byron Bay resident bemoaned the lack of community. He felt that the close-knit, hippy-fringed, Bay community had gone the way of hippiedom, really. The newcomers weren't interested in community, only in making money and so it has remained in these tourist mecca years.

So beware going off chasing the dream, fellow gardeners, it might just be here in your own community!

Byron Bay does have the most spectacular sunsets though!

Short and Sweet!

Well not really. Huge and sweet actually. But the story will reveal itself...

Last week Ms Tagalong was tapping away diligently when there was a knock on the door again. She wondered whether she would ever get the blog finished! Ms Mova was at the door, almost jiggling up and down in excitement. "You might want to hold your blog," she said,"you just have to see this."

Sighing loudly and dutifully saving the blog, Ms Tagalong followed, er um tagged along as usual.

Miss Didi's Mum had been fossicking under the sweet potato plant which by now had covered most of one bed. We had done some exploratory digging as you know, a few weeks ago, but this was archaeology on a grand scale. Ms Tagalong's jaw dropped, she expressed some expletives, well as much as she is wont to do, gasped, even.



One wonders how this huge monstrosity had been growing under the earth without us knowing? We have missed the Easter Show, we would have been the stars of the show, surely? We would have returned adorned with ribbons, clasping cups and medals galore.

But did we think of weighing it? Of course not. Ms Tagalong could make a guess; the size of a small child, 10kg-12kg at least! How many kilos of sweet potato jam would this have made? Nestling alongside this monster were many others. The camera fortunately saved the moment for posterity.

So there we are, we must be doing something right to the soil, especially the nutrients needed for sweet potato growth.

But wait, there's more. Yesterday Ms Tagalong found out that Ms Mova was looking after the monster still in her kitchen so Ms Tagalong raced around with a weighing scale,(she knew it would come in useful some day) and as we held our breath, Ms Mova's 'usband gently lowered the potato onto the scale.

Oh how Ms Tagalong felt vindicated, 10.4 kg! What an eye.

Hey presto pesto!

It just takes a few willing workers, bunches of basil and a working extension cord to provide the best food we have had yet in the garden.

Our monthly cocktails in the garden has seen the advent of homemade dips, bread, snacks and cakes but to be able to snip off the basil, add the other ingredients according to whim and produce a sensational pasta pesto taste-off was wonderful.


The working bee was in full swing, tea break had been called, (actually within the first few minutes by a few shovel manning participants who shall remain nameless) but it was soon time for lunch for the ravishing oh sorry ravished, no that's not right either, workers. Ms Tagalong, nursing sore ribs from a fall on the way to bookclub the other night, stoically manned the whizzy blender, choosing this over the old mortar and pestle, and produced alternate types of pesto. We had rocket and pine nut, basil with and without garlic, chunky basil with macadamia and the very popular extra, extra garlic also with macadamia.

Apart from a few cheeky comments about meatless lunches the crew tucked in and helped by the fantastic weather the day was declared a wonderful success.


Little Miss Pretty sat recording all the events and smashing macadamias, Red and her husband fell to with gusto and enthusiasm (or was that after the red wine totty?) despite the distinct lack of bacon, Ms Nimble Fingers worked like a trooper as did Ms Magic Fingers, despatching the rather large pile of lawn clippings onto the last bed. They were ably assisted by Mr Ukelele and Mr Ideasman


Ms Ishabaw, Red and Paint Pot Pat diligently weeded, planted out and chatted amongst the beds. And Ms Mova? She was moving of course. Forking, digging and moving piles of grass, earth and mulch along the outside fence to the garden. Ms Tagalong did say that it might be easier to just lay paper down and pile manure and cuttings on top but Ms Mova likes digging and that's all there is to it!


And as if the day could not have been more perfect for Little Miss Pretty a saddle necked russet and white guinea pig was perambulating along the gutter by the community garden. Cajoling and sheer ingenuity coaxed it from under a parked car and the guinea pig, already named Jiggles, had an instant new home. Anyone missing pets should contact Pets R Us. Whatever will it be next?

Ms Tagalong crowned the day by using up the last of the tamarillos and making a savoury roast tamarillo tart served with spinach, avocado and chick pea salad. Just had to include the photo for your delectation!

Autumnal fruits 2 and Mothering Sunday

So here we are in Autumn and another week closer to the shortest day! The mists are still not upon us but the dew is thicker each morning and cooler on the feet. These beautiful tiny flowers on the casuarinas caught Ms Tagalong's eye in the morning sun.

Ms Tagalong walked into the garden yesterday and found a mother's meeting gathered companionably around the table talking over the wonderful Mother's Day events. It seems a lot of eating transpired but sadly not too much home cooking. But all was not lost, Ms Ishabaw walked down the road in search of some wonderful herbs for her feast. We knew she was coming; we could see her trousers stalking along viewed under the casuarinas; the chickens knew too and raced from one end of their pen to the other absolutely certain she would be bringing them treats. They were right.

Ms Tagalong planted garlic yesterday - long after Anzac day - dear readers, but what can you do? She took the remains of the last home grown bulb and painstakingly divided the cloves and placed them carefully in the ground. They are now planted behind the herb sign. We really must rotate the bed signs and refresh the soil.


Ms Mova was chinwagging and looked up to say, "Well you do really plant when you say you are going to. It takes me hours to think about it let alone do it! " Ms Tagalong smiled and left them to it. Mother's Day takes a lot out of you.

Later in the evening Ms Mova came knocking at the door. She had been busy; she brought around an eye-catching gift of tamarillos. Not strictly community garden produce but her garden produce. Besides being delightful to look at, these beauties are very versatile as was found out by searching for recipes and uses. Mr Ideasman said he hadn't had one since he lived in New Zealand as an
exchange student - so that was some time ago then. We cut one in half and scooped out its innards, a la kiwi, tangy and different. Ms Tagalong then decided to throw some into a chickpea tagine, perfect flavouring for a warming dish on this cold, wet, windy evening.

Just a reminder for Ms Designer that our readership are still agog waiting for the recipe for the Peruvian speciality of sweet potato jam. No pressure!