Monday, January 31, 2011

Backyard textures

In the backyard this morning, I've been shoring up the plants for another 40 degree day, squeezing pots of herbs in underneath the table to give them shade, setting up the picnic umbrella over the trug so my seedlings don't fry and watering in the early hours so it has a chance to soak in rather than evaporate. It's baking out there, even at 9am, but the gorgeous morning light made me notice the textures of the garden.
 The wall of our next door neighbour's garage makes up part of our fence and the mineral blue of the bricks makes it one of the prettiest parts of our yard.
 The hairy leaves of the new cucumber plants make me itchy just to look at them, but the fast unfurling of the new leaves makes me feel like I have greener thumbs.
The clotheline is old, with fraying yellow rope holding two of the arms in place, but I love the rusty colours and the strange warping you can feel under your hand when you turn the handle.

 The leaves of the middle plant feel somewhat prehistoric, as if dinosaurs brushed past leaves like these many, many years ago.
Our poor lemon tree. As old as the house itself and infested with gall wasp, but still trying valiantly to fruit and flower every year. By the time they ripen, the lemons are dessicated inside and only good for zesting.
 The rosemary at the laundry wall has gone from demure shrub to riotous bush in six months. It's pushed over the outdoor tap and we lose loops of hose behind the fragrant greenery. Whenever I water, I have to wrestle with the rosemary and end up smelling like Sunday lunch at my grandmother's.
 The curly leaf parsley is someone else's lost project, buried beneath a cacophony of ugly, miscellaneous plants. It went to seed a few weeks ago and is now threading through the rosemary bush.
 New shoots on the ivy that covers the garage. Somewhere in here there are the previous tenant's Christmas lights, prayer flags and children's toys. I think they hold the garage up.
The weather beaten picnic umbrella that is now shading the trug's seedlings. It lifts out of its base whenever there's a breeze ripping through the backyard and spirals away. I've shoved some of the wood sticks into the base with it to try and hold it in.

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