In the days leading up to Dad's shuffling off the coil, we were tidying up the garden. It always felt a bit odd knowing he'd never see it. We always were a gardening family. His native garden is stunning - today we picked flowers for his coffin from there. He would have loved that so much.
But that's enough of that. Life goes on. The honey eaters shake the banksia as they feast on pollen. The pelicans fly over. The rabbits dig the mulch in the moonlight.
Here's the view now from my bathroom window, early morning when I wake with a broken heart. Don't worry I'm fine. It's all just part of the process.
The irises are almost ready to bloom. I've staked them this year with bamboo as the wind always gets them and I really want them to stand tall.
The grevillea in the back garden behind the tool shed is stunning. Australia has some amazing natives and this time of year they are just resplendent.
The quince tree has taken over in showiness now the plum is done. We are still yelling at crows where they come to steal eggs. The small apple tree is flowering next to the soft yarrow.
It's frustrating that no veggies were planted over winter but I'm sure as the weather warms up it won't be long. The self seeded fennel is good though. Mulched around the central fruit trees. The young afourer mandarin is sending up new growth after a good water and some fertilizer. I don't know what part of 'water the mandarin' the tenants missed. He was bloody useless.
Jamie did a lot of raking up of leaves in the front of the house. I think such a simple job was soothing in the wake of Dad's death. Dad was always raking up gum leaves. I guess it's part of having an Aussie garden.
That's all I got today folks. Been a tough old week.
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