Utility vs beauty

Swirling through the ether, the mantra is 'think global, act local'. I struggle to understand the emotions of standing in a large barn of an assembly hall whilst a voice booms over a PA '64 Sanderson Road - 100% destroyed'. I likewise struggle with how people can cope with the stench of river mud through 100% of their house, or lying for weeks through their paddocks. Or their house blown 100m up the road and all their possessions scattered. It has been and is, a trying summer. So, in a paradoxical way, my issues are the least of my worries.


I have a small courtyard, covered in tiles, surrounded by two storey terraces, except on the SW side - which is a road. The damage from the week plus of 32+ temperatures was more ambient heat than anything else. My garden was tended morning and evening.

I came to figs late in life, but am a devotee. My nostrils fill with the aroma of standing under a laden fig tree in the south of France in September 2008, the ripe fruit bursting from the pods. This year my tree has been equally laden. I have already eaten half a dozen . But now I have an issue. Most of my garden is ornamental, for pleasure rather than survival. I want to move the percentage just a little but worry about the lack of depth to the soil, and my own ability to cope with the workload.


It will always be the garden of a dilettante. I would love to have tomatoes tumbling down the wrought iron, but know that the grub of the white butterfly would make this a futile endeavour. What would you suggest? Perhaps zucchini or capsicum or rockmelon. Or green pea-pods dangling from a trellis.

On yer marks

The arrival of Spring is a onestepforward onestepback process. The days are slowly getting warmer, but the winds are strill and bitter. I have trimmed, repotted, fertilised and weeded. All is ready. The African Violet on the sill beside my computer is a joy in waiting.


The avocado and the fig are filled with Thomas' 'green fuse'. Remember when the avocado was but a sluice of slime in a bottle?

And the olive trees are being their usual mediterranean selves: promising much, flaunting their fertility, but wisely producing much more than they need 'just in case'. Let's hope they all thrive during my absence in La Republique.

Accentuate the positive

The second fig had dropped off the perch when I returned from work today, but I knew that was going to happen. Just like many miscarriages indicate that the seed had not grown properly.

Here instead are two images full of potential: olives and limes.

Boo hoo!

One had dropped when I was away, and the second I think will drop within the next 24 hours. The tree is too immature to sustain fruit and leaves.

I think I have solved the problem of the yellowing of the leaves of my lemon/lime trees. I applied two doses of iron chelates before I went to Tassie. They are looking better already. I will thin out the just setting fruit once all this inclement weather passes and give them some seaweed mix as a gee along!

Grow you little beauties. Grow!

Black genoa fig - Week 3

So I am away for ten days. Hope these little blighters are still on the twig when I return!

What a difference a week makes!

This small image shows my Black Genoa fig tree on Saturday 12th September. I am astounded at the rate of growth in such a very short time. I will try to post a cumulative image each weekend to monitor growth.

A sense of musky velveteen

When I worked at UTS in the first half of 2006, an Italian colleague insisted I try my first ever fresh fig. I was captivated from that moment forward. During my sojourn in the Languedoc last October, figs littered branches and ground alike. The ripe smell of musk clogged my nostrils. I bought me a variety on my return. This be it.