Tuesday, November 16, 2010

My Time in Cue ~ Part 26

Gardening Effort


There were ten green bottles hanging on the wall
Ten green bottles hanging on the wall
And if one green bottle should
accidentally
fall
There'll be nine green bottles hanging on the wall.

The little ditty that many of us learned at primary school has been rolling around my mind for much of the day. Not that I have been indulging in strong liquor and leaving green bottles all over the place … no … something entirely different caused this refrain to echo in the mind.

Several weeks ago I sent south to the big city of Perth for some flower seeds. I am not really a keen gardener. I like gardens but dislike the hard work involved. I realise that if weeding is kept up as a regular weekly chore the hard work is minimised. There is no garden at the pub. Perhaps that is the reason I suddenly had an urge to grow flowers. I decided on the variety … nasturtiums. Even the novice gardener, or would be gardener, can grow nasturtiums.

At my previous home I had thrown a packet of nasturtium seeds into a raised garden at the back door. The eaves kept the area dry but it was also reasonably sheltered from frosts. In my present abode there is no worry about frosts and as for dryness … we seldom have rain. Nasturtiums that are over watered will send all their energy into leaves … lovely big leaves; round leaves with slightly scalloped edges. Starved of water the plant sends its energies into reproduction … the creation of flowers. Nasturtiums send forth colourful blooms; deep orange, pure yellow, and sometimes a reddish brown flower raises it head.

I know cooks who add nasturtium flowers to salads. I confess to not being a fan of flowers in salads, but that is just my opinion. The flowers have a distinctive peppery aroma and they give a homely ambivalence to a kitchen if placed in a glass of water. Within moments their heads droop over the edge of the glass. The water magnifies the stems and somehow the whole effect, while simplistic, has a certain charm.

I waited for the packet of seeds to arrive in the post. Wrapped in foil and placed inside a colourful wrapper the packet was enticing. I carefully opened the foil and counted the seeds. There were seventeen. Now I remember when a packet of seeds of exactly that … a packet of seeds. Seventeen!? Hardly a packet? In fact I go as far as to say that seventeen seeds must do nothing to entice novices into gardening. I planted three in a container, a plastic terracotta coloured container with its own matching saucer. I hunted around to find suitable places to plant the other fourteen. We have some old zinc baths on the balcony. You recall the baths [before plastic] we used to bathe in front of the fire on a Sunday night? Water was heated in the copper, and in summer that water was recycled by tipping it onto the garden.

I ignored the fact that some guests had previously used the baths as ashtrays. I suppose that was preferable to smoking inside this old building and preferable to tossing them over the balcony onto the street. It took only moments to push the seeds into the red dirt and a dousing with a few jugs of water ensured they had a good start in life. I sat back waiting for the day when the balcony was a riot of colour. I imagined tourists pointing in astonishment and taking photos of the wonderful picture they would portray.

A few days later three cats became residents of the hotel. Within hours of their arrival the zinc baths had their base use altered. No longer ashtrays … no longer flower plots … now they were cat latrines, and the seeds were scratched into oblivion. I began the nightly habit of taking my small container, with three seeds safely planted, inside. No longer could I leave my balcony door open. This doors acts as my window and in this warm climate it is essential the air be changed in a room daily. [After a few days the cats, for some unknown reason, keep a safe distance. Maybe it was the fact that I made loud noises and stamped my feet whenever they came within twenty feet of my door.]

My three plants thrived. I left them out for a longer time each day. Becoming daring I left them out over night. Nothing happened. The cats kept their distance and I relaxed. My gardening efforts were finally being rewarded. Then one morning I heard a noise. Day had not broken, the water reticulation was hosing the grass meridian strip, but the noise was definitely feline in origins. I swung the door open just in time to see one of the cats, a nosey white and black cat, jumping down from my nasturtiums. I let out severe words … threatened instant death to this four-legged interloper. I brought the plants inside.

Death has come to two of the nasturtium plants that were so nurtured. The third plant is ailing. It is bruised on the stem, but I have hopes it will survive. I have sprinkled a liberal coating of pepper all around and I have uttered threats of allowing the Blue Heelers upstairs and let lose on the balcony. In hindsight, I may have been wiser to buy cacti … prickly cacti. It was suggested I send the cats on a journey … throw them over the balcony onto the deck of a road train … preferably one that has over 1000 miles to travel before it reaches it final destination. I do know that cats have fallen down my list of favourite pets.

No comments: