Penny
Wilson
Roots
I guess.
For
the house at the top of the street at the top of the hill, my usually
cautious father purchased — dynamite. Until then, a spruce planted upon
my birth and known as my twin was the sole occupant of our rock yard
.This twin grew but bruised and tired due not only to its
symbolic status as 'The Garden' but also due to its use as cricket stumps
and goalpost.
Post
dynamite however, with The Rock shattered and buried beneath oh so
many loads of topsoil , things changed. Agapanthus freely multiplied as
did poplar trees, hydrangeas, jonquils, fishbone fern and azaleas. Our
weathered and faded fence encompassed a small gate which opened onto a world
where chooks roosting in a rusting Ford were now supplying much needed
fertiliser. Why did I think of this Garden instead of my own lush oasis in the
middle of the usual neighbourhood colorbond congregation? Roots, I
guess.
And
where should I buy more dynamite?
Bio
My
growing years were near Manly NSW often immersed in its waves and
pools . Later, as a teacher I loved having my days filled
with art, music and drama. I have exhibited with the
Newcastle Printmakers Workshop for many years mostly enjoying aluminium
etching, collagraphs, drawing for solar plate and creating artist books. In
this collagraph and etching I was thinking of our garden evolving organically after
such an aggressive seeding .
Penny
Wilson
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