“Jean, that's Mrs Ambrose, is getting older now so she said I was welcome to borrow her tools and books, and any cuttings I wanted to take to start a little patch of my own. Here's my little pocket of colour.”
She lifts the netting on the third section of soil.
Bright bursts of marigolds, salvias, and geraniums push through the damp earth.
Each one an act of rebellion in a barren landscape.
These green leaves are her solace amongst the decay.
A place where living things flourish and are sheltered from harm.
“I love your frangipani,” Amos smiles. “That’s my mum’s favourite too.”
She gives him a shy grin.
“It's not much, but I've got Marco's dad convinced that growing this garden will save us money,” she says. “More booze for him, he reckons. Truth is, the more time he spends down the road, the more peace and quiet I get. I feel calm when I've got my hands in the soil.”
“It must feel really soothing,” Amos nods. “Reconnecting with nature like that.”
She’s bathing in his warmth, just like I do.
Validation instead of rebuke.
Someone showing her that she matters.
Her face lights up as their conversation continues.
And I’m beside myself with adoration for them both.
I can see how carefully everything has been cultivated.
The soil has been built up with compost and mulch.
Shade cloth stretches over some of the more delicate plants, protecting them from the ruthless inland conditions.
Row after row of vegetables and flowers have been coaxed patiently from ground that most people would have given up on.
“It looks wonderful, Ma. You’ve put so much time and love into this. Proud of you.”
The look on her face is so tender and childlike.
She’s been craving kindness for so long.
This garden and her sewing cupboard have been her only form of escape.
She’s created something gentle in a world that hasn’t been gentle with her.
???
I curve an arm around her shoulders.
We walk over to the wooden compost bin she's made.
It has a few gaps here and there, but it does the job.
“Gotta work with what you have,” she shrugs.
Picking up a bucket of weeds near the fence, she lifts the lid from the bin.
