What my garden yields

It’s Autumn in Melbourne. Our garden is yielding pumpkins, basil (too much pesto!) and other goodness.

Today Ken planted winter crops of broccoli and garlic. When you are obsessed with words and stories, it’s easy to forget that there is a whole silent world of plants and their stories that unfold without worrying about narrative structure.

In the midst of our garden, Leda (the mother of two sets of twins – Helen of Troy & Clytemnestra and Castor & Pollux) wrestles with a swan as lemongrass and rhubarb grow tall around her. She’s cast in bronze so can weather both the seasons and the threat of being engulfed by plants.

On a rock beneath the eggplants, is a small stone sculpture of the Indian elephant-headed god, Ganesha, surrounded by blue glass pebbles. At the moment, he’s overshadowed by a spreading eggplant bush that has huge, glossy black eggplants hiding amidst the leaves.

I love this time of year in the garden. The weather is cool enough now that you can sit in the sunshine for ages and simply admire the plants and the comings and goings of small creatures.

I’m pushing around ideas for the next novel and a clutch of small projects. It’s a good time for sitting and contemplating the world.

Kirsty is an Australian author of books for children and young adults.

“Every adult was once a child and the child inside them never completely disappears.”

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