Melons
In the back of my mind is a saying, how exact I recall it is uncertain, but it runs along the lines "from little acorns big oak trees grow". This was brought to the surface a few days ago as the miracle of nature gave an example of magical happenings.
In November I headed down to the City, catching the overnight coach that left our town at 10.15pm. Normally I am in bed at that hour [some of us have to rise extremely early to cook for the hungry multitudes!] and to while away the time, and stay alert, I sat poolside … swiping at bloodthirsty mosquitoes that found my life-giving fluids tasty … and passed the time with gossip of the moment with others who had time to sit and chat. Soon it was time to head to the bus stop, and because our town may have experienced problems that night it was arranged I have a male escort to deliver me safely to the depot and wait until I had boarded the coach.
Walking through the side gate the remark was made that some melon seeds had been planted in the garden. The garden is a loose term. Until that moment I had considered it a patch of red dirt that may or may not have been cultivated. I had wondered if any plans were in hand for it, or if it was simply a place for the dogs to wander and use for whatever wandering dogs need a patch of wasteland.
Last week we had a catering job … luncheon for ten. This is a monthly occurrence but this time the larder was almost bare of exotic fruits. We had apples and oranges, but apples and oranges are commonplace. There were a few Kiwi fruit, but hardly enough to make an impressive fruit platter. The boss had an idea.
In November I headed down to the City, catching the overnight coach that left our town at 10.15pm. Normally I am in bed at that hour [some of us have to rise extremely early to cook for the hungry multitudes!] and to while away the time, and stay alert, I sat poolside … swiping at bloodthirsty mosquitoes that found my life-giving fluids tasty … and passed the time with gossip of the moment with others who had time to sit and chat. Soon it was time to head to the bus stop, and because our town may have experienced problems that night it was arranged I have a male escort to deliver me safely to the depot and wait until I had boarded the coach.
Walking through the side gate the remark was made that some melon seeds had been planted in the garden. The garden is a loose term. Until that moment I had considered it a patch of red dirt that may or may not have been cultivated. I had wondered if any plans were in hand for it, or if it was simply a place for the dogs to wander and use for whatever wandering dogs need a patch of wasteland.
Last week we had a catering job … luncheon for ten. This is a monthly occurrence but this time the larder was almost bare of exotic fruits. We had apples and oranges, but apples and oranges are commonplace. There were a few Kiwi fruit, but hardly enough to make an impressive fruit platter. The boss had an idea.
He confidently remarked "The watermelons!"
Watermelons? I had completely forgotten about the plantings! Next morning as I headed out the back gate towards the clothesline I noticed a watermelon sitting on a beer barrel. Yes, he had raided the garden. We cut it up; we sampled the melon and pronounced it beautiful, if perhaps a little green. Frankly I prefer them not quite ripe, as the juice does not drip down the chin and onto one's clothes. The melon was cut into triangles and arranged artistically on the fruit platter. It added certain elegance to the dish.
Roll on a few days when the melon was slowly, but surely, cut off and eaten. As most of our guests had booked out and the necessity of making a pudding diminished, once again the melon was suggested as a suitable way of rounding off the evening meal. The boss brought in a large watermelon … quite impressive in size, bearing in mind they had only been growing for under three months. We decided to weigh it. Five point five kilos, or twelve pounds! This melon was sweeter and juicier than the first, and already a considerable part of it has been devoured.
When one looks at the arid red dirt of The Outback, where plants are stunted and grey in colour, it is so very easy to assume the land is infertile. How wrong that assumption is. From a few humble seeds seventeen watermelons have grown … watered regularly with a run off from another part of the complex, and it shows that this land is not infertile, it is simply dry.
Two watermelons down, fifteen to go … I suspect our liking for watermelon will become a little less enthusiastic as time goes by. I wonder how basil would grow, or tomatoes? The dishes we could prepare if he had a homegrown supply of cucumbers and zucchinis, tomatoes and basil could bring our hotel cuisine up to International class!
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