I have been out on the run this week, walking the talk and talking the walk. Whilst I was away from the garden, winter left the door ajar and spring waltzed in on a north wind. Warmth upon the lovely rain we had last week made for a hero’s welcome; as we trudged up the lawn, the cosmos and salvia nodded and bowed to us in the breeze. Caesar himself could not have asked for a better triumph.
The rain should not pass without comment. 55mm, 220 points in the old money and a quick flick through the rainfall book here shows that it is the largest single August fall recorded since the records started in August 1924. The previous wettest August day was in 1947 with 178 points recorded in one day. There are only two years left in the book, interesting as it clearly states on the front cover 1924-2024 and there appear to be no missing pages. Have we been short-changed by two years? I love to imagine Brian’s grandfather sitting in his camp beside the overshot here, sending a note off to the stationary supplier to order his new rainfall book. One assumes it takes a while for one to organise these tasks when one is sleeping in a bed made from a bullock hide stretched over some gidyea posts. And here we are today, still on the overshot not fifty metres away from where he started, though the beds are far more comfortable I am sure.
Peach flowers remind me of the creek here at Moble. When I was married, the banks were crowded with them and I planted them here on our side of the creek as well. Like their father and aunts before them, the children would row along in their canoe and pick the peaches overhanging the creek. The bower birds baulked at attempting the water access, so those peaches were often the only ones we had for the year. Sadly, the drought in 2014 put paid to the peach trees along the creek, and many others as well. Happily, I have a little one in a pot here that Shearer Henry gave me, so I shall plant it with due ceremony today. Mother is staying and the flower arrangements are featuring peach blossom as well, she has mixed it with foliage from along the creek as only she can, a little vignette of yesteryear.
I did manage to complete my homework last week and took the last cuttings from Mrs. Brown’s grapevine and planted the artichoke seeds. I have been so inspired by the programme we caught on the Cruden Farm garden last week; this garden lifts my spirits and my intentions. Encouraged by our garden’s response to the duck exclusion fencing, I have high hopes for a renewal of many garden beds around this old pile. The before and after is quite astonishing so Mr. Moble has promised a little duck fence along the creek and we shall see how things progress from there. The Campbell Clan will have to highland fling elsewhere for a while.
In family news, we now have a little Boston Baby to fill our thoughts and dreams, he arrived the same day as the rain, an excellent omen. A new Grandson, a visit from my brother and beautiful rain, all in one day. I cannot wait for him to pick peaches from the tree along the creek one day, not far from where his great-great-grandfather slept in his bullock hide bed. Happy days little George Barney, Moble is waiting to welcome you home,
The Moble Gardener
Banner image of Brian on the four-wheeler taken by Belinda Rafton
