Planet Wank

This article was written in 2021 when I was undertaking a sustainability course at UTAS. I could have written more on this subject and hesitated at publishing it at the time of writing as I felt it was a bit ranty. But on re-reading I think there's some ideas and thoughts that are worth sharing. 

As part of this next chapter for me I will be releasing more writing from the past. I hope you enjoy it, or at least find something interesting. I've made time in my life to focus on my writing and look forward to sharing more with you all. Thanks for reading x 

In a previous post I recommended a podcast about Sustainability. I was lucky enough to listen to the first episode which I thought was pretty useful and down to earth (pardon the pun). This morning I jumped back into it to for more and found myself jumping from one episode to the next as I winced at the wanky words that made me feel more like I was listening to a 'know your own vagina' workshop than a podcast about supporting sustainable change. Invented and unnecessary words spilled from a voice that I found unfamiliar and to be honest, quite annoying. Why does it annoy me? Why don't I relate? What's wrong with me? That's what I started thinking. But perhaps it's not about me.

The question around why humans want to place themselves ahead of nature is not a new one. The desire to restrain, conquer, control and own. There is a whole industry that has been created, riding on the back of gardening. Connecting to a smorgasborg of expensive products, systems, personalities and gimmicks, many of them redundant and distracting from the wonderful simplicity of gardening. 

To me gardening is about the earth, about nature, about something other than me. That's exactly what I like about it. For hours at a time I can unplug and let plants take me on a ride. I might be the worker, the worshipper, the conduit, the tool that makes it happen, but when did we decide that the language of gardening is less grassroots and more high brow exclusive. When did we start sidelining or ignoring the hard working and instinctive gardeners who have come before us and shut them out of this new world with inaccessible language, unaffordable products and beliefs.

Let me put this into perspective. I come from a long line of gardeners. My grandfather, Adi, ran the vegetable garden for a large property in Launceston more than 60 years ago. He introduced me to new exotic sounding berries and fruits. Nan and Pop lived on East Coast Tasmania where they grew potatoes, beans, harvested mushrooms from paddocks and fished at local rivers and off the beach. When my mother left her marriage and took her four children (aged 6-12) we eventually landed in a run down old weatherboard house in Launceston. There was no child support, and she worked, studied and created a  garden to feed the family. It was a double block, with most of the back block filled with fruit trees, chickens and ducks, vegetable gardens, a massive cherry tree, rows of raspberries and a beautiful apple tree in the centre. There was lawn in the middle to play cricket or football but the priority was food production. As an adult I have the luxury of looking back with nostalgic memories. As a child, without knowing it, I was part of maintaining the ecosystem; feeding and playing guitar to the bantams, cutting the heads off ducks, picking raspberries and stealing the quinces from the child care centre next door to stew or make jam. 

The harvesting was one of many steps. A large chest freezer in the laundry was stocked full of excess fruit and vegetables that would get us through the hard times. As we tucked into mum's delicious apple crumble as kids, we had no idea of the significance of what we were eating. Meat was a luxury so we grew our own. Eggs and meat from chickens and ducks provided many a Sunday roast and the tart apples off the large apple tree provided the most delicious pies, crumbles and an afternoon snack as we lay on the grass enjoying the sunny days.

For a family with little money the garden became our playground. It was our refuge, our theatre stage, a life raft through poverty, a vehicle for conversation, a currency to barter with neighbours and an education. We were not alone. Most people had compost bins, fruit trees and vegetable gardens. Many had chickens for the eggs and children gathered mushrooms during school holidays and went fishing. Everyone had a chest freezer. Pickled vegetables, homemade jams and breads were common accompaniments to a meal. I thought everybody did it, however, when I look back there was a correlation between low income families growing vegetables while wealthier friends had built-in pools, patios and trampolines. 

There was no formal training or intellectual language that made us good at growing stuff. While I may see my love and skills in gardening as instinctual, I can also recognise that before instincts came an informal teaching, experience in doing and hard work. 

Based on my own experience and the financial benefit to growing food, it might suggest that there would be thousands of back yard gardens growing in low income suburbs. But that's not the case. While fruit laden trees can be seen falling over suburban fences, there has been an evolution in gardening that has seen the simple art of growing vegetables and fruit transformed into an industry which showcases properties, branded products and expensive courses that attract those on generous incomes. Inaccessible jargon and intellectualism has replaced the humble language of the back yard gardener.

An episode by Monty Don, British horticulturalist, took us on a tour of edible gardens in France. We started with a monastery or nunnery where a committed hard working community of nuns tended a large garden that fed the occupants. If they didn't grow the food, they didn't eat. Monty then visited a large castle-like homestead with a vast garden which had perfectly designed rows of fruit trees and vegetables. Purple and green cabbages planted to create a colourful patchwork that is never eaten. The next was a Michelin star restaurant where the seasonal produce in the garden dictated what was on the menu. And finally, he took us to a garden in the country-side where a dense garden of fruits and vegetables were grown alongside the natural landscape with a simple, and I suspect very affordable, cafe which served seasonal produce. Monty seems more at home with the humble country growers and more admiring of the nuns who work in the garden, rather than the contrived nature of the ornamental vegetable garden that is never eaten. No sharing of food at a table with friends, neighbours or families. 

Our relationship with what we eat is linked to urbanisation, the growth of cities, transportation and the changes in how we saw, or didn't see our meat. Once cattle, sheep and poultry walked through the streets of London to the inner city abattoir. There was a very visible connection between the animal and the family Sunday roast.  Watch this TED talk by Carolyn Steel, author of Hungry City to see how just how the design of our towns and cities has influenced how and what we eat. She argues that the modern systems we have created to make food more accessible and simple, and provide us more choice has actually distanced us from our most important relationship, between us and nature and made us dependent on their unsustainable systems. 

It's all about our relationship to the food that we eat and the disregard for where we source our vegetables and fruits is just as stark as that of meat. Where once small gardens were common, perpetuating community and social connection, we now drive away from our homes and our communities to purchase packaged produce that has come from anywhere. Alternatively, we head off on the weekends to farmers markets that, while offering home grown and often organic produce, the location, vibe and price is prohibitive to many, creating an exclusivity and class driven model. I think the farmers markets are great, but it troubles me that they are not situated in the suburbs that need them. Is it preaching to the converted. 

I admire the small scale farmers who sell via the farmers markets, but I long for the time when the energy behind supplying local, fresh produce is more about benefiting the communities and less about setting up gentrified markets to accommodate tourists or those able to pay $10 for a loaf of bread. 

It could be argued that community gardens are a vehicle for bringing people together, to garden and share food. The great thing is that they are accessible spaces for people to learn more about gardening and growing food. But they have limitations as they are based on the investment and support from communities and the local governments to resource them. It's hit and miss. There really needs to be a community garden at least in every suburb, if not every street. It also sort of missed the point. It is not just the growing of the food locally that benefits everyone, but the social connection and engagement with everyone. Local stores once played the role of meeting place and provider of james, chutneys, fresh vegetables and fruits that came from people in the area who were keen to dispose of excess, barter with the store or sell to make a bit of money. This system of growing, selling, supplying and buying includes everyone, whether you are interested in growing food or not, irrelevant of age

For some, growing food is a means to feed the family, themselves or their community, but learning how to grow food has also become a novelty, an expensive hobby, an exclusive pastime or meditation for the busy executive? A quick search on the internet identifies hundreds of courses. A Home Vegetable Growing online course is $642 for 100 hours, $168 for a 2 session garden workshop and a 12 month online course for $2 120, which even includes a bit of a BUT THAT'S NOT ALL FOLKS, with additions of obscure ebooks about making money from your garden and companion planting. The websites are engaging, colourful worlds with smiling children, happy couples and pristine gardens. And what's wrong with that? I hear you say. 

Is it the pressure of capitalism that has created the cycle of work, spend, increase debt, give up free time to work, spend, more debt, book in weekend gardening course to feel more connected to the earth, more work, spend and on and on, you get the picture. 

This is not what gardening is to me. One of my favourite comments in the podcast I mentioned in the last post was about making mistakes. The expert talks about the normalcy of killing plants and that in fact it was his process of experimentation and failure in the garden where he had the learnt the most. Home gardening is a dance between nature, humans, our available resources and information. 

It is little wonder then, when I hear the podcasts or see the myriad of high priced books on the shelf, that I feel a little uncomfortable. There is a place for everyone, farmers markets, community gardens included, however, I long to see our growers, town planners and governments that it all much further; encouraging urban farming that can supply food at reasonable costs to all the suburbs, all the communties, all the people. https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2019/feb/10/urban-farming-feeding-cities-of-the-future