take one green rectangle

(counting on my fingers) six, seven, 8, almost nine months ago we moved the republic to its new headquarters. the garden was a neatly clipped green rectangle with a lemon tree, a pine tree, some silverbeet that were busy setting their wildness free and a straggly hypericum.
one of the first things we did, dad and i, when we got the keys to the house, was to rip out the hideous purple and brown 70s carpet and drag it into the garden. i cast evil looks at the loitering nettles and silverbeet and muttered 'i'll be back'.
the next day i was. fork in hand, i made sure those weeds knew who was boss. i then dragged the carpet on top of them to keep them subdued till i could really take care of them.
little by little, though, i peeled the carpet back and stealthily planted tomatoes, lettuce, courgette, corn, yams, and various other salad items.
but while i regarded the garden with one squinting eye i drew plans behind the other, for its magnificent transformation.
p and i spent many an evening discussing le jardin. i had been inspired, long ago, by french garden style in my first visit to paris in the spring: great long lines of pleached aesculus (horse chestnut), and the formality of versaille, along side items of folly. we were both impressed by many of the gardens we visited in the castle district of france- again, these gardens combined the classic formatilty of neatly clipped lines alongside colourfully arranged vegetables, fruit and herbs. these gardens were potager gardening on grand scales.
we wanted our garden to reflect the unique cultural blend of the republic's citizens and its postion by the sea. we also wanted to be nourished by our garden, both physically and spiritually. of course, our garden had to be organic and be as close to the principals of permaculture as we could manage.

for two former nomads (and a future one!) the putting down of roots is a very serious affair.

a list was devised and a plan soon worked itself onto paper, allowing for all of our gardeneering dreams: fruit, vegetables, herbs, a home for our chickens, somewhere to eat ourdoors, somewhere to dream outdoors, somewhere to bathe, to work, to meditate, to relax, to share, to play- to grow.

and now, dear friends, with spring perched, ready to pounce, we think we're nearly ready to welcome her.

i've not taken any photos of work in progress.

but instead, i shall try and paint a picture with a thousand words, and the load some pictures once spring has started to fill some of the gaps.

xx
gardener b