Separation anxiety. A recognised complaint felt by many of us when leaving our gardens and dogs. Oh, and children of course. I sometimes wonder if it is worth going away, all the tasks that suddenly Must Be Done before you can leave.
Interestingly, there seems to be a disproportionate number of essential jobs that must be completed before you go away as compared to what would normally be achieved in the same time frame, had you stayed at home. There is no logical reason for this, other than the mindset that we may be a day late returning and therefore must complete an extra week’s work in lieu. I know I am not alone in this; I hear of this syndrome amongst many of our friends.
I usually decide about one week before we are set to leave that I cannot go. I lie awake at night counting off the reasons why things cannot continue without me. I certainly hold no inflated views of my importance; all the reasons why I must stay can be readily completed by almost anyone. I have no particular skill set that sets me apart from you all, I am totally and thoroughly average.
Even so, I know that the watering system will cease to work; the pressure pumps will blow up, all three. The cuttings in the nursery will dry out and the chooks will go off the lay. The Jack Russells will chase my peacock, Lord Dudley, and then polish off the Guineas (this actually happens when I am at home as well). This will all culminate with the dogs running riot and it would just be easier if I stayed at home.
Fortunately for Mr. Moble, he has heard this portent of doom before and takes no notice. We have an excellent caretaker, Noela, whom the Jacks adore, and all is well whilst we are on leave. Truth be known, the animals are far better behaved for Noela than they are for me. Brian also knows that the moment we cross the boundary grid, I shrug off my worries and we are away.
The best part of going away of course, is the excitement of returning home, brimming with enthusiasm for all you have seen and itching to get on with implementing the one hundred and forty foot long wisteria draped pergola you saw in that garden in Tasmania. I bring home gardening ideas from all over; I believe I could transplant ideas from Antarctica, given the chance. All that sculptured ice and a few penguins would go down a treat here in January. I love seeing plants that grow for me at Quilpie thriving in opposite climates or used in an interesting and unexpected manner.
A beautiful blue and white pot is now sited in our verandah as a nod to the ones we saw at Monet’s garden, Giverny. So far, I have resisted painting the bridges but surely it is only a matter of time. There are snippets of our travels throughout; sometimes it may be as simple as the placement of a log to reflect a similar vingnette I saw whilst out mustering, you don’t have to be far away to be inspired when you are surrounded by nature.
My sister-in-law arrived home after just a few short days away last week. Her garden, you may recall, is where I completed my Jobbing Gardener apprenticeship in April. It seems it is bursting into Spring despite their continuing drought. Within minutes of her reporting they had travelled home safely, the photos arrived of what was flowering in the garden; she had whipped around and done her Matron’s Round before darkness descended (though we all know these rounds can be completed by lamplight, Florence, as required). Her Manchurian Pear was a froth of understated white, a standard azalea the same and her Cliveas, orange and lemon, were blooming away happily. A welcome chorus indeed from a happy garden.
I am hoping everyone shares in some wonderful rain very soon, so our eyes and minds can once again broaden to take in the wonder around us and then try to duplicate it… that’s what we gardeners do.
The Moble Gardener
