The Nature Fix
Every year my fascination with growing stuff increases. It’s an obsession that is fueled by both the bountiful crops that are picked at the end of a successful season, and the effect it has on my mind and body. My mother was an excellent gardener. She taught us all how to grow, prune, kill and cook. We had a double block; half of it filled with fruiting trees, raspberry bushes, vegetables and yards of chickens and ducks. We would sit under the prolifically fruiting apple tree while plucking the freshly killed chickens. Our chest freezer was filled by the end of summer with plums, stewed apples, raspberries, peas and every sort of vegetable. When life as a kid became overwhelming, the garden and the chickens were my sanctuary. I would often sit in the chook yard with my guitar, serenading the bantams while nibbling on cherries or freshly podded peas. As an adult, that sanctuary remains as I plant out my suburban garden with bird attracting and fruiting bushes and trees. I wake t