I snuck away from the desk this afternoon to mooch outside for half an hour.
Soon, soon, soon this month-long monster research project will be done. And I can turn back into a gardener again.
I ambled up to the potting shed to observe the overwintering plants.
A squish of a mealy bug on the lemon tree here, a drop of water for a parched cutting there.
And lo. What a delight. My Very Australian native spinach plant Warrigal Green has actually come through unscathed. I pulled off the soft fleece that has been covering them since December and found green things underneath.
A bit crispy, but definitely alive.
Here’s hoping the ‘crop’ will surge into growth and give me fabulous acid green spinach-like leaves in good quantity soon.
Right now it would serve mainly as a garnish on a dish.
But naturally the Warrigal greens I saw in Sydney on the coastal path with my sister would feed the five thousand.
I kept whimpering with envy as I marched past.
Hillsides of the things. Ground cover.
These ones were right at the base of an enormous Norfolk Island pine on the foreshore at Forty Baskets Beach.
I only noticed it as we sat down for a drink of water on a blisteringly hot day during our Spit Bridge to Manly walk. I almost squished it.
Some people look out to sea… I seem to be looking down.
I didn’t harvest any. But wish I had.
They were growing in the cracks of almost every set of steps along the whole 10km path.
‘Right plant, right place.’
And all the cosseting and seed collecting and precious growing that the little Greens have had in my potting shed here on a mountain top in the middle of France… And their provenance… A tiny jar of seeds that Lisa gave me years ago with the admonition: these are precious.
I’m just thrilled they didn’t all die in the cold and low light of our winter.
And here’s hoping next week I can get going and give them a tonic of feed (overwintering comfrey and nettle juice) and really start them into good growth.