long-toothed hinterland dweller

Two fell swoops

After my interstate trip of just a few days, I returned to find that while my back was turned my husband had taken the opportunity to do a little yard cleaning.

A tree feller had been called in to assist him in a deed most foul.  Two mature trees that I had been passionately protecting from the axe for years, had each been reduced to a pile of woodchip.

The first was a tall gum in the front garden that had been dropping heavy branches each time a strong wind blew.  (And which is why, my husband had constantly reminded me, they were once referred to as 'widow-makers'.)  Well not any more - not this one anyway!

The other was a paper-bark that I admit was rather too close to the house, but which I appreciated for the shade it shed over the clothes line.   

The dear old Hills hoist now stands in full sun. 

I won't need to worry about bird droppings on the washing any more -- or the sheets getting caught up in the branches.  Just remember to wear a hat when hanging out.  And to bring everything in before it gets too faded.

In compensation there were quite a few barrow loads of mulch. 

Moving it was really good exercise. 

Now when I stand under the clothes line I can see clear across to the vegie patch.

Only two barrow loads of chip to go!

A town painted red

I am visiting my old home town in South Australia, the place 'Where the Outback Meets the Sea'.  Visits always make me nostalgic because it's where I spent my entire childhood - and where my immediate family members have remained.

This visit, I was surprised to find myself looking at many familiar landmarks through rose-tinted glasses.  Since I was last here, many buildings in the old section of the town have changed their colour into a pretty shade of PINK! 

This is the facade of the Civic Building showing pink streaks from the iron ore powder which drifts across the city every day.  It comes from the loads of ore that are trucked in by road and rail from mines in the hinterland.

Roads, gutters, pavements and walls - they're all slowly becoming red toned as well.

The once blue window sills on the closed hotel opposite the court-house haven't been dusted in quite a while ...

It is easy to understand why red is the colour of choice for any new roof...

Paint anything brick red and you're one jump ahead!

That's no doubt why the formerly white-painted court house has been re-decorated of late.

On the foreshore this toilet block has a section of fresh new brick-work on the left - in clear contrast with the stained sections on either side.

Bushland adjacent to the industrial centre has become a dusky pink too.

This is a patch of salt-bush that would usually be grey.

I rather think that a clothes-line full of 'Persil white' washing might be a thing of the past.

No wonder that a growing number of local citizens are beginning to see red!

Modern-day Bo-Peeps

I went for my usual hair-cut today.  My trendy young hairdresser (but not too young or trendy I hasten to add) has long ago stopped suggesting I try something dramatic - or even different.

'Just the usual tidy-up, Jude?' she said, as I plonked myself in the chair.

As always, I had flicked through a couple of hairstyle magazines while I was waiting.  The magazines lying around in this salon are bursting with ideas to suit those aspiring to ultra-chicness.  Not me I'm afraid.

If there's one thing I can't handle it's hair in my eyes!  Not even a whisp of it.  The majority of the young things photographed in the English magazines I looked at had daring looking, cleverly cut fringes.  Yes, these weren't your ordinary, every-day fringes; they either covered one eye completely, or partially covered both eyes.

How ever do these girls manage to read ... or hang out the washing ... or drive their cars - with their vision so seriously impeded? 

How do they manage to go about their business seemingly oblivious to the itches and tickles ... the sheer distraction of having eyes full of hair?

My hairdresser gave a knowing smile but offered no answer.  But I notice that she wears her long tresses tightly bundled in a knot on top.

So you will realise by now that is not my new hairstyle, above.  Maybe similar in colour and length, but definitely without the hint of Mata Hari. 

Nor was I tempted to emulate Cleopatra, here on the right.  She wouldn't find it easy to locate her flock of missing sheep!

I'm just very glad that when you're sixty you can happily opt for comfort and convenience every time.

Mango mania

Every year in October the Brisbane Fruit and Vegetable Market hosts a unique event - the annual charity auction of the first tray of mangoes for the season.  Last year's winning bid was $35,000.  Not bad for something that usually wholesales for around $24!

Mangoes are a real Queensland thing - in fact the backyard mango tree was recently listed as one of the top ten icons of Queensland.

This is our tree, currently in full flower and with the promise (perhaps) of a real feast at Christmas.  I say 'perhaps', because in seven years it has so far never provided us with a single fruit we could enjoy.

I have to admit this is the one tree in our garden that we have totally neglected.  A stunted specimen that had been planted before our coming - behind the garage in indifferent soil right on the boundary of our property (that's the neighbour's garden shed right behind) - it has always remained out of sight and out of mind.  Too hard to water and not worth the bother of fertilising.

So I was surprised last year to see it had set a handful of reasonable fruit.

From time to time I checked on their progress.  Apparently our resident possum had been doing the same, because eventually all but one had disappeared.  When I visited again, hoping that it may be ripe, I found this freshly chewed stone lying under the tree.

If a decent crop sets this year it may be worth netting the tree, because even if the possum doesn't finish them off, it is very possible that the roving flocks of fruit bats could take a fancy to them.

I had never tasted a mango until I was in my twenties, and then I wasn't at all impressed.  Someone had once remarked that they have an after-taste of kerosene and I had to agree.  I also knew a couple of people who were highly allergic to the fruit (I have read that as many as one in fifty people may be allergic to mangoes) and that too, put me off.  But many years later when two of my children developed a passion for the fruit, I tried one again - and was pleasantly surprised. 

Now I am hooked. 

Back yard musings

One of the advantages of having a good-sized back yard is being able to make a bonfire to burn off any woody garden rubbish. 

In recent years many urban councils have banned back yard fires - even the use of incinerators - but here we are still lucky enough to be able to light open fires in our back yard.   (This is, of course, excepting in the exceptionally hot and dry summer-time when fire bans are in place.)

With a number of mature eucalypts and other native trees on our block and the adjoining land, we have a never-ending supply of dead branches and heavy woody prunings to dispose of. 

This bonfire is ready to go, but it's too windy to risk lighting a fire today.  In the photo you can see the results of the last fire that got away - the burnt trunk on the melaleuca behind the wheel-barrow.  That was quite a heart-stopping event as I was in the garden alone and needed to fetch a couple of long hoses to bring water from the house in a hurry.  Most of the leaves in the bush around here are highly flammable and this patch of bush could have gone up within minutes.  Our use of dry sugar-cane tops as mulch adds to the risk, as this material is also highly combustible.

But, despite the risk, I must say it is satisfying to be able to stand out the back and poke at a bonfire - and then later scoop up all the cold ash to use as needed on plants.

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While talking of back yards ... I've just finished reading a fascinating new book called Australia's Quarter Acre, by Tasmanian, Peter Timms.  He traces the history of the Aussie house block and its changing use over the years.  Every reader will recognise some of the iconic features he recalls from yards in the past.

The author looks at different attitudes towards weeds and weeding: To the Romantic, weeds are a symbol of wildness and freedom.... To those of a practical bent ... they suggest disorder and decline - the triumph of wild nature over culture - which makes eradicating them a civilising mission. 

He finds weeding his own garden a meditative and immensely satisfying task.  But he draws attention to the more serious environmental weed problem and urges all gardeners to be responsible about disposing of unwanted plant material, and not allowing exotic species to escape into the bush.

Perhaps I should I be eradicating this healthy clump of mother-in-law tongues growing just outside our star picket back fence!

They must have been planted in our garden in the past, and now, having jumped the fence, they are happily established among several of the other more conventional 'weeds'.

With single plants just the same as these selling in the local nursery for around $15, perhaps I could be digging them up potting them for gifts or for sale.

Looking ahead

We took a deep breath and planted a Jakfruit in our front garden this week.  As with many of the other trees we are planting, it's rather a long-term view for 60 and 70-yr olds to be taking.  And particularly ambitious regarding this tree, which is going to be a monster.

Our tree has been given a very good start in life; firstly a large hole was dug and filled with all kinds of goodies for the roots to feast on, then the top was pruned to a single strong trunk and tethered to a pair of light stakes.  A liberal covering of mulch went on all around.  Already it's grown two new, pale green leaves!

The Jakfruit or Jackfruit (Artocarpus integrifolia, A heterophyllus) can grow to be enormous - up to 75 feet - and it bears the largest fruit of any tree, each one weighing 20 kg or more.  There is a photo of a bigg'n in Florida here,

Elsewhere we are told: "This is the world’s largest tree fruit, and can weigh up to 40 kilograms. The flesh is golden yellow, very sweet and juicy and tastes like banana bubblegum. You eat the segments inside. Watch out for the seed, which can also be boiled and eaten. In India this fruit is picked green and eaten as a vegetable in curries."   

We may not be around to enjoy the fruits of our labour, but hopefully one day someone will.  And if they're interested in the tree's medicinal uses, well, there are a few:

"In China, the pulp of nangka (Jakfruit) is considered useful in suppressing alcohol in the body. The roasted seeds are used as an aphrodisiac.  Root extract is used for asthma, fever and diarrhea. The bark has sedative properties."

But I'll be happy enough with just a taste of that banana bubblegum.

The new green is red

Our enthusiasm here for 'having a go' at growing any interesting edible crop that is likely to suit our sub-tropical climate, means that the garden is usually producing a such a variety of greens that there are usually more than just the two of us can manage to consume.  This is particularly so when taking into account the number of plants that are grown for other purposes, but which also have edible raw leaves.

For example, a green salad here always begins with a leaf or two from several varieties of open lettuces (the climate doesn't suit the hearted kind) and some rocket (either cultivated or the wild variety). Then it's a poke around for whatever else can be added.  So many of the common and uncommon culinary herbs can be used - but always in small quantities as the flavour of some can be overpowering. At this time of the year I usually include coriander, sorrel, dill, nasturtium (leaves and flowers), tarragon, perilla, purslane ( the weed) and lovage.

Others I have used are angelica, anise hyssop and arrowroot shoots - and that's only the ones that begin with A.  Then there's basil, bergamot and borage ... and calendula, chrysanthemum, chervil, chicory, caraway and catnip!

But let me tell you about my latest favourite.  Going by the name Basella or Ceylon spinach, it could have been included above in either the B or the C list.  A hardy and vigorous climber that's bothered by few pests or diseases, it can be eaten raw but also used as a spinach subsitute or added to soups and stir-fries.

Basella leaves are oval and fleshy, adding a pleasant crunch to salads, and the stems and new shoots are edible too.  Following its small white flowers, this plant sports deep purple-black berries and these produce a rich red natural food colouring suitable for use in cakes and sweets.  So versatile! 

What I also like about this plant is that it is a perennial - albeit short-lived - and easily propagated from cuttings or seed.

One of my Ceylon spinach plants - Basella alba.

This one is happy to climb the trunk of a cumquat tree.  I can water and fertilise them both at the same time.  And when the basella starts twining through the branches, it's a reminder that some ought to be picked.

There is another variety of basella, Basella alba 'Rubra', that has stems and leaves of a reddish purple and flowers that are pink as opposed to white.

The red variety makes a fresh salad look rather spiffy, but otherwise tastes the same and turns green anyway once cooked.

Basella thrives best in a sub-tropical climate with warmth, water and good soil, but will also survive in temperate regions if protected from frosts.

With a suitable support, it is a twiner reaching up to 2 metres high.  Otherwise it will happily creep or sprawl along the ground, or even hang from a basket.

My red leafed basella on a wire trellis with nasturtiums nearby.