Disclaimer: Below are the tales of a city-dweller that will definitely pale in comparison to that of pioneers who set out to discover new continents or found new nations or of early settlers. All I can add if it helps is that, for a continent of sheer size, with trees sporting a million vibrant shades of green under the clearest blue sky dotted with puffy white clouds, this is a land of paradox. While unique flora and fauna can be enjoyed as ticketed exhibits in national parks and zoos, their backyard versions can startle, terrify and transfix you with horror. Such as the hairy huntsman spider, the whistling cockroach, the blue-tongued lizard, the cranky cockatoo, the kookaburra’s hysterical laughter, the possums among your rubbish bins and an occasional 8-foot rogue Kangaroo checking on you in your own backyard. Of the 140 varieties of land snakes, 100 are considered venomous with many topping global charts. If you belong to the tropics, the less said about the polar weather, the better. I hope any or all of the above will not shelve your upcoming plans of migrating to Australia. If so, I shall not be held responsible. To calm your mind, I invite you to read my story as a proud house owner in the land down under.
Now that we were the proud owners of a sizable piece of land and house in Melbourne, Australia, my life thereof can succinctly be classified as follows: 2017 to 2018 - Year of Discovery; 2018 to 2019 - Year of Adventure and by end-2019 as you all know - the Pandemic Year which has stretched itself into Year 2022 and shows no sign of leaving.
During “Discovery” year, time was spent planning on how to “divide and distribute” the large 6-bedroom among warring children, tend a landscaped garden by those uninitiated and clean and upkeep a swimming pool especially in Winter with sub-zero temperature and with hail pelting on cranium and other vulnerable areas of your torso.
Being a single level house, we were next door to Mother Nature - a fact in which my spouse took much joy while the rest of us tiptoed with trepidation. If you wonder why, it is because until now all of us were apartment dwellers, having to do very little with “terra firma”, touching earth only to reach certain destinations - work, school or to shop for essentials.
At all other times, elevators and garbage chutes ensured stable respite for our limbs unless of course, there was a false fire alarm, which meant that we climbed down a few hundred steps down the stairwell, while curbing a panic attack. Like bats, we had so far preferred life perched high up, cosseted and secure, tall meters away from the ground.
“Adventure” year thrived on innumerable arguments, heated exchanges, tears, threats and tantrums. Like the Renaissance, it was a hot pot of conflicting ideas, a meet-and-fight ground to discuss, debate and delegate renovation plans in the course of trying to imprint “our” kind of look on the house and finally make it our home.
We shouted and stomped, silently usurped rooms only to exit them just as quickly thanks to changing taste or the lack of it; we paired or sidled up with fluidity in order to connive and plot decoration plans or to overthrow any competing idea. Finally, we managed to conceive a “look” which the purists might put mildly as “melange”. You might call it “confusion” or something along those lines.
An assorted selection of furniture ranging from Scandinavian to mock French and fat Ikea couches were installed around the house. Chintz cushions and curtains met your eye in all directions. While framed mirrors looked down from some walls, heavy Tanjore paintings dangled from others.
A Persian carpet or two was strewn around. Statues of Indian deities sat on squat stools complete with incense burners. Coffee tables were laden with brass lamps, scented candles and other such pot-pourri. Vases, travel souvenirs and tiny knick-knacks occupied many tiers of shelves. Books were crammed into all nooks and crannies.
The kitchen was an indubitable site ready to host the Masterchef competition. Fine, delicate porcelain sat alongside shiny stainless steel vessels. Cooking utensils ranging from the recent air fryer to grandma’s rice cake steamer and dishes, dekchis, pans, cookpots, casseroles made indomitable pyramids. Whatever was left was hastily bagged, secreted and stored in the garage. Thus, “home” was built, but truly as they say, not in a day.
Whilst outdoors, the once neatly trimmed box hedges now outshot and obscured the windows. The sculpted round heads of lilly-pillies jauntily grew in all directions. That was when hubby dear decided to enroll for a Horticulture course aiming to master the art of lawn mowing and taming the garden shears or hedge trimmers into obeying. I shuddered involuntarily, reminded of chainsaw massacres to come albeit not related to humans.
Life continued as neighbors bore testimony to our amateurish landscaping skills. They walked past our front yard, heads bowed in obeisance to all the bald patches in the grass as the winning army of dandelions stood shaking their flowery heads in silent laughter. But we were made up of strong character and were not to be beaten easily.
The garage set stage as though for a battle - humans vs Mother Nature. A visit by any English King or the Queen would have made us proud. Shears, secateurs, scissors, pullers, loppers, pluckers, trowels, rakes, spades, hoe and the like were neatly lined up and rotund, heavy land mowers, wheelbarrows, troughs and bins occupied the floor.
Weed killer, insecticides, pesticides, fertilizers and many such poisons occupied several shelves with an air of nonchalance as we timidly walked past them. Any available space on the wall was filled with charts clearly explaining “what to do” and most importantly “what not to” or “what if '' in big, bold letters in''red”. The over all air was that of stepping into a torture room or a chemical centre or even an explosives zone rather than a shelter for cars.
With the garage turning into a second Area 51, weekend classes were held, father to sons in order to avoid severed arms or lopped ears or poisoning the swimming pool. Undeterred, they set fire to two lawn mowers, burnt out four vacuum cleaners and managed to confuse and shut down the pool’s chlorination and cleaning system, all in quick succession. The filtration system now pumped terrifying black jets into the once, clear pool.
Thus weekends were full of action as I was forced to don the role of a mute adjudicator caught in a cross fire of verbal onslaught. I was stretched too thin trying to build a bridge between the aggrieved parties. The two family cars continued to hang around the driveway like interlopers.
While the erstwhile formal garden reminded one of “Paradise Lost”, we yielded to further temptation and succumbed to adding some botanical makeovers in the backyard. As much of the outdoors was covered with decking, we set our sights on the space interspersing the lilly-pillies and the borders around the swimming pool. Thus, the beginnings of a humble veggie patch and a rather ambitious rose garden.
In spite of the prohibitive cost of rose bushes, climbing roses were fitted into pots and arranged around the al fresco. We hoped to sit in their perfumed midst while cooking a barbecue during summers. Alas, rather than the harsh Melbourne Sun, the roses bore the brunt of the smoke laden with Indian spices, emanating from the “barbie”. They shriveled and crisped and hardly smelled.
The labour spent for the veggie patch could be matched with the digging of the Suez Canal. Small containers and bags were filled with an amalgam of store bought potting material and manures of all kinds - cow, horse, chicken, blood and bone, seaweed, you name it, we had it. All we required now were seeds, saplings or young plants.
The trip ranging from the nearest to the farthest Bunnings shop resulted in disappointments. As always, things worked clockwork in Australia. All of the above were sold out as locals made their purchase at the right “sowing” time and not when they fancied. Online searches also did not provide any luck as these stores too had sold out. In fact, they were beginning to take orders for the next year.
Not giving up, we raided our pantry and came up with some red chilly seeds, dried beans and coriander seeds. The rest came from fresh and frozen vegetables that we used in our daily life. Slowly, a bit hesitant, an odd green sprout showed up in some of the pots and we were ecstatic. With a few hits and misses, we were able to coax some to life and even obtain some produce.
The tomatoes did best followed by some salad plants. Others died an imminent death. After all, we could only grow from November to April unless one had a hot house. The winter with its frost and hail ensured that only the hardiest of outdoor plants survived.
Vegetables are no mighty oaks, so they stood no chance. Else, we might have waded among tomato jungle to the pool or even rubbed hands with some spicy chillies. You can imagine what would have happened next.
By end 2019, the menfolk had almost mastered cleaning the rainwater gutters without falling off the roof. They also clambered over tall ladders to clear cobwebs and shoo away a few Huntsman spiders, muttering a small prayer to the comic hero Spiderman.
We were metamorphosing into an “Australian” in all ways especially, by being outdoors most of the time - Summer and Winter alike. The only difference being while the average Aussie ran or jogged for exercise, we continued our humble attempts (read epic battles) to bring back the garden to its former glory and prepare the veggie patch for a windfall cultivation the following year.
And then came COVID. By the time we realized the true meaning of a pandemic, it was March 2020 and Australia announced its first formal lockdown with many more to follow. Many millions were locked within the realms of their houses and started working from home. With commute hours now saved, a tiny devil sat on our left shoulder whispering a million ideas into our idle minds.
Perhaps, this was a sign that the time had come to save the world. We decided to adopt sustainable living. Unending searches were made on the internet to commence composting and raising worm farms. Rough blueprints were drawn to convert Youtube videos on Organic living and translate them into action.
Without angry neighbors descending into our house complaining of untoward smells or unwonted slithery visitors, we managed to raise our veggie patch in bits and strips, successfully composting kitchen waste and becoming proud parents to many hundred worm babies.
Gladly, we gave away our first bags of tomatoes, chillies and curry leaves to the house next door and gleefully rubbed our hands as we froze and stored the extra produce for winter days. Taking a cue from “living off the grid” videos, we even dreamt of solar power and batteries for more such self-sustenance. Did this work out? Well not as yet. In Year 2021 as the pandemic metamorphosed into many variants with unpronounceable names, human travails seemed to continue.
We rang in the New Year in Year 2022 with the future not quite certain and not many options in sight. We shall continue to wait with bated breath hoping that the jabs up our arms will work miracles. Perhaps, one fine day, COVID-19 will be permanently banished into the annals of history like all other pandemics of the past.
Soon I shall soon divulge to you some of our backyard tales and our feeble attempts to save the world from bushfires or another ice age or even filling our seas with more plastic. Perhaps, it would tempt you too. If so, do let me know. In the meanwhile, I am looking to trade a few organic tomatoes for some home produced honey. Trust you are not allergic and have survived bee venom? Did that sting?? (pun unintended).
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