long-toothed hinterland dweller

We're a happy lot

Friday's 'The Australian' newspaper confirmed it.  We Australian retirees are the happiest in the world.  The newspaper published the results of the AXA Retirement Scope which conducted research across 15 major industrialised countries to analyze attitudes and perceptions about retirement.  The study found that 96 percent of Australian retirees were content with their lives.  Canada ran a close second with 94 percent. 

The satisfaction levels of those already retired is believed to be linked to the historical period in which they grew up.  Today's retirees are mostly pre- baby boomers who spent their childhood in the WW II era or the earlier Depression years.  We grew up with the philosophy of making the best of what we had.  Choices were limited - and that went for the availability of consumer goods, career opportunities, housing options and travel.  However, in the early days there were jobs for all.  Study options were fewer and we got into the workforce young.  Then, as we grew older, there always seemd to be a redundancy package on offer for those who wanted to put their feet up early.  And many did - at somewhere around 55.

Apparently it will be a different kettle of fish when the 'have it all' baby boomers hit the scene. Their expectations will be much higher, but their available funds are unlikely to match their aspirations for retirement.  Many will find themselves staying on in their jobs well beyond 60.  Probably this is a good thing.  A lot wouldn't have completed their tertiary education until their early twenties, so they started their careers later.  With better health and a life expectancy increased to almost 80, some could anticipate spending 25 years in retirement - a very long time!

I'm an advocate of slowing down in the final years, and easing out of employment gradually.  It makes sense, from all perspectives.  So I'm happy -  I still work a little and I'm also one of those lucky, contented 96 percent.

Eating the weeds

It's a green fleshy plant with flat stems and tiny yellow flowers.  For years it has been a nameless, inoffensive weed that I have carefully pulled out.  Then a friend offered me a plant growing in a pot and told me she learned to eat it in Assyria as a girl.  It looked suspiciously like the weed growing between the pavers and in my gravel paths. But she told me they called it 'propina' and used it in salads, soups and dips. I tried some of her soup and and it was, as she promised, quite tasty. 

So I did some investigating.  I discovered that it was my backyard weed and was indeed edible.  Known in Europe as 'Purslane', (Portulaca oleracea) it has been eaten for centuries.

I no longer pull out this weed and regard it with a new respect. I have found that if allowed to thrive in a pot or in the vegetable garden it becomes thick and lush.  I now have a recipe ready and await my first crop. 

I know there are other edible 'weeds' in the garden worth trying too.  One of my projects for this year is to try some of them.

Hoarding - as bad as it gets

A dear friend of 45 years has come to stay and we are hoarse from too much talking.  I shared with her Aslett's book on Packrats - and we compared stories about our saving and collecting habits - some due to unbridled sentiment, and others in the hallowed name of recycling:

• the 'spare' irons, toasters and electric kettles in the hall cupboard, 
• the flattened pieces of brown paper, rubber bands, supermarket bags, egg cartons, jars and cardboard boxes (and even newspaper wrappers) stuffed into kitchen cupboards and drawers,

and the memorabilia -

• the Christmas cards, concert programmes, magazines and college text books in the spare room,
• the baby clothes, wedding dress and holiday slides and brochures that never leave their boxes in the garage. 

Hers all went in a housing down-size two years ago, but mine are all still around.

But I did resolutely return to the store the 3 totally unnecessary table-mats I couldn't resist buying last week.

Nothing has yet left the sewing room. 

Packrat el supremo

The scene is a corner in the sewing room, with shelves overflowing onto the floor.

There has never been a time when I haven't lived surrounded by clutter.  I remember a house move more than 30 years ago, when a bemused neighbour watching me cram packing crates with my relatively modest accumulation of treasures at that time, inscribed 'JUNQUE COLLECTION' in red across one box.  Not to be deterred, I nailed down the lid, moved on and continued to acquire possessions. 

There have been many moves since, and eventually, with a husband and 3 children on the scene, each house had to be a little larger that the last to cope with the overflow of belongings. Those kids since left home, each leaving behind in the garage a modest few cartons and suit-cases of things they will return for one day. They sit beside boxes of my own - some unopened and unsorted for 15 years.

Well this year the tide is to be turned.  No more collecting!  No more excuses!  I am going to discard / dump / divest myself of all that 'stuff' I have been storing and shuffling for years. With author Don Aslett as my motivator and Maria Gracia as my guide, it is time to declutter and streamline my life and keep only that which truly useful - or of such sentimental value that I cannot let it go.

I am starting in the sewing room.  I'll keep you posted.

When a tree is a weed

Here are some stately bush eucalypts flanked by a couple of non-indigenous Umbrella trees (aka Octopus trees).  The seeds would have been dropped by birds.  These will need to be removed or in a year or two they will be surrounded by more young ones.

In my last post I quoted from Warm Earth Magazine but neglected to provide a link to the website. You will find it here.  The editor, Liz Sinnamon, is an organic gardener in the Sunshine Coast hinterland where the climate is similar to the one where I live.

Getting physical

Yesterday we put in some hard yakka in the garden, spreading woodchip mulch, tearing up invasive ground-cover and using the chain-saw to remove dead and damaged trees.  Most of these were growing along our southern border adjoining the overgrown, inaccessible and weed infested public reserve. Among them were several umbrella trees (Schefflera actinophylla) which have become a weed in these parts, self-seeding and growing at an alarming rate.  The leaves went into the compost bin and I lit a bonfire for the noxious weeds and unwanted timber.   One of the conveniences of living out of town on a larger block is that you can light fires to dispose of waste.  Of course there are restrictions governing the size of the burn and weather conditions have to be taken into account.  In summer total fire ban periods are a regular occurrence.

Anyway, I felt pleasantly tired and satisfied afterwards.  This morning I was thumbing through an old organic gardening magazine and read this:

Health Benefits of Gardening

Numerous studies have shown that regular physical activity reduces your risk of premature death, heart disease, obesity, high blood pressure, adult onset diabetes, osteoporosis, stroke, depression and colon cancer.

Gardening contributes to healthy active living, and is part of all three types of physical activity – endurance, flexibility and strength activities.

Heavy garden work like raking and carrying leaves contributes to both endurance and strengthening activities, while all those stretches and contortions in the garden can help increase and maintain your flexibility.

Studies reveal that gardeners consume most kinds of vegetables more frequently than do non-gardeners.  And the benefits are not all in the body; they’re also in the mind!

There’s a whole field of practice called horticultural therapy which explores the way that gardening helps people heal, physically and emotionally.  Horticultural therapists have discovered that gardening provides a form of emotional expression and release, and it helps people to connect with others.

The psychological benefits of being outdoors, working in the sunshine and fresh air, are also clear.  Indeed, studies have shown that just looking at trees and plants reduces stress, lowers blood pressure and relieves tension in muscles.

Given all this, is it any surprise that one study concludes: ‘Those who are involved in gardening find life more satisfying and feel they have more positive things happening in their lives’.

‘WARM EARTH: Organic gardening – Healthy Living’  Magazine No 46 – January 2003

                                                                                                                               

Hear, hear!

Tell me the old, old stories...

An article this week on veteran British actor, Warren Mitchell (Alf Garnett), quotes him as saying he has reached his 'anecdotage'.  What a perfect way to describe that time of life we reach when we are just full of polished and well-oiled old stories, and every conversation presents another opportunity to press the 'select' and the 'replay' buttons.  On such occasions I have seen too many rolled eyes and grimaces and so am determined not to let myself become yet another boring old fart. How much better to score points from the audience by targeting the youngest and shyest member of the group with a carefully tailored question.  Then to sit back and relax and perhaps gain a fascinating insight into someone else's world. Let them start practising their stock of stories.

Who encroaches upon whom?

Some time in the past 24 hours a small but deadly brown snake squeezed into a crevice in the trunk of a palm and painstakingly eased itself out of its bursting skin.  I later found it just a few metres from the house between the back door and the pool.  It was a little smaller than the one found last year, knotted by its owner around the pool fence to aid in the peeling off process. 

The year before we were visited by a larger, live snake - and even closer to home.  A python wound itself around the rafters of the verandah roof, quite blatantly outside our kitchen window. He remained comfortably ensconced for several days until we decided to use the BBQ and the heat and smoke drove him away.  They all serve as reminders that although we have moved into their environment, they are never far away.

Good to see a few snakes about actually.  Otherwise we would certainly be over-run with the rodents, that are much more evident.  Not to forget the kookaburras, that play their part by eating both!

Cobaea, or no Cobaea? That is the question.

My 1998 copy of (American) Ken Druse's Great Collector's GARDEN PLANTS describes a pretty little climber called Cup and saucer vine, Cobaea scandens, aka Monastery bells or Cathedral bells.  A fast growing, twining plant, it has large pale green bell shaped flowers which darken to mauve then purple.  It went onto my 'must have' list and I looked about for a spot where one could grow.

The next time I saw a reference to C. scandens was in my Australian Gardener's Companion to WEEDS, where it was listed as invasive with a caution to be wary.  Not to be daunted I began my search for one - by now there was an empty trellis on the new pergola waiting to be covered.  None of my usual plant nurseries had ever heard of the plant - nor could they find it in the stock lists of their major suppliers.  One suggested that its known invasive habits may have had it banned from local use.

Next stop, the Web.  First the good news - available from a mail order supplier in Sydney - Guruna Nursery.

Then the not-so-good - the plant is totally banned in Wellington NZ: -

Cobea scandens, the cup and saucer vine or cathedral bells, within the Auckland Regional Council (ARC) at least, is banned from sale, propagation, distribution or commercial display. Existing plants must be reported to the ARC.

I have now contacted my local council for details of all plants banned here.  The trellis awaits, empty.

The Easter Bunny cometh

I just saw the first supermarket Easter eggs on display.  It was next to a shelf where they are still offering discounted Christmas cakes, and just along from the Valentine cards and candy.  Also today my Chinese friends stopped by with a beautiful gift of tea, cakes and sweetmeats to honour their New Year.  [I felt touched - as they said they had, on receiving our mini Christmas hamper.]  But it's all a bit overwhelming.  I only took down our Christmas cards yesterday - and there is still some Christmas pudding in the frig.  In the meantime there have been birthdays and engagements and weddings to celebrate - all with cards, cakes, food and gifts.

The spirit of giving and honouring our various traditions enriches us, but the calendar is becoming crowded by a growing number of celebrations and annual 'events'.  We always had our national celebrations for ANZAC, Remembrance and Australia Days, and the family-centred Mother's and Father's Days, but since I grew up Halloween and Valentine's and Grandparents' Days have crept in, and we have watched their rapid adoption and commercialisation. The power of advertising meets the urge to spend! Where will it end?

Post Script - Sadly I notice that the dear old Guy Faux of my youth seems to have disappeared.  I think I preferred his bonfire and fireworks to Halloween's Trick or Treat - all that night-time fun was so much healthier without the junk food.  However, I remember it was a regular occurrence for a 'cracker' to explode in a face or a hand, and that was not so healthy.