I slipped a juicy segment into my mouth. The juice exploded into my mouth: Honey-sweet and tart. Lush. My tongue and teeth popped the little sacks of liquid. In my mind’s eye a crowd of Californian surfers stood on their boards and cheered in unison. I glanced down to pick up another segment.
Read MoreThe garden that I planted to heal my son, it seems, is filled to the brim with beautiful, heirloom, organic Josh poison.
Read MoreThe green, overlaid with the silvery colour is elegant, sophisticated. It reminds me of the colour...
Read MoreThe tomatoes, have mostly moved beyond ripe. They hang, insect stung and half rotten, half dried on the vines. A few runty green fruit droop at the centre of the plants. Some of the leaves have completely dried and hover in amongst their wilted brethren like dusty, netting underskirts.
Read MoreI recently posted a picture of an African Horned Cucumber (also called Jelly Melon) onto a gardening Facebook group.
Read MorePotatoes are the Obi Wan Kenobi’s of the garden – master teachers to this student of gardening. Their lesson? The unknown.
Read MoreI’m kneeling on weeding kneeler in a particularly uncomfortable position by the tomato plants. The weeding kneeler is a pinkish-red rectangle of condensed foam, partially chewed from when I left it out and the puppies got hold of it. To reach the bed I’ve lift the skirts of the bird netting. The lacy mesh bunches around my shoulders making my neck itch and me think of gynaecologists.
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