Guest Post: A Tiny Garden in NZ

Thank you Celi for inviting me to be a guest writer on The Kitchens Garden!

Today I’m taking you to Wellington, NZ.

Our blog is about turning our tiny backyard into an edible garden. It has also become a place where we reflect on things, tell stories, walk down memory lane, record laughs…

Welcome to our Tiny Garden!

Our peas have grown into teenagers.

All tangled up…

…trying to hold on to things but not quite managing to…

…instead grabbing on to each other…

…getting all twisted together…

…pulling each other sideways.

I remember when I was a teenager. Oh dear, if there was ever a mixed up teen, there I was…

I can see her now, trudging the bush track home. Heavy backpack, carrying more than school books, carrying the weight of the world. Not hearing the crackle of the dry eucalyptus leaves underfoot, fully absorbed by her thoughts, frustrations, oblivious to the dangers of the Australian bush. But no wildlife bothered her, probably they just watched her from their safe perches in the dry crackling forest at the tracks edge, maybe they even worried about her?

Oh but do let me tell you about a time we laughed.

My younger sister and I, on one of the days we walked together, a tyre track each, parallel footsteps. On that day we sang, loudly. As we crossed the last creek and started to climb the final hill to the house, we saw our mother approaching down the slope at quite a serious pace wielding an axe! My sister and I stopped in our tracks. Our voices now a stunned frightened silence. Mum saw us and her pace slowed. When she reached us, in between puffs she said, “it sounded like you were being murdered!”. Ha ha, “no mum, we were singing!”.

We laughed, mum still catching her breath.

Between laughter hijacked breaths, words tumbled out…”I thought you were running from someone!”…”I thought you were going to murderΒ us!”…our laughter escalated joining the chorus of the Australian bush.

That day we floated up the last long steep hill, carried by recollective giggles as they bubbled up from our bellies.

We would love your company, you can find us here:

Have a wonderful day!

47 Comments on “Guest Post: A Tiny Garden in NZ

    • He he, thank you πŸ˜ƒ
      Feel very honoured to be asked to guest post on Celi’s blog!

  1. Thank you for your guest post & lovely pix of your flourishing pea vines. I would just pop those pods right into my mouth. And thanks too for sharing a very special school girl memory, which I know you & your sister cherish today.

    • On second look, I actually can’t find all those pods I saw the first look through. It is quite early in the morning & I’ve just put on my glasses. And need some tea. <[:~)

      • Aren’t fresh peas from the garden the yummiest things!?

        And memories that make us smile precious πŸ’•

        • A wonderful tale and yes, peas are the best. I had a dog once who was adept at nipping them right off the vine, I was lucky if I got a handful.

          • Ha ha, reminds me of my great uncles dog who would bring him his tobacco if asked πŸ˜ƒ

  2. I love peas fresh from the vine … hope your teenagers grow up to be productive adults, yum. πŸ™‚ Laura

    • Thank you Chris 😊

      Isn’t Celi great! She has been a huge comfort and inspiration to me over the years πŸ’•

    • Thank you 😊

      Aren’t words magical how they can transport us. Those years we were growing up on the mountain we didn’t have tv or electricity. Books were our comfort, escape, inspiration…words. I love them πŸ’•

      • I think you were blessed on that unwired mountain–living in nature instead of separate from it, as my teen granddaughter is, caught up like her friends in “the cloud,” or whatever the latest Internet feature is. I am hopeful that there are blessings there too for her; I’ve found them for myself lately in communications like this. I enjoyed your photographs and the insightful commentary.

        • Thank you Albert. I have the same hope for my daughter, growing up in the age of technology. Our challenge, keeping them safe. Same challenge I guess our parents had bringing us up. I recall a large python that used to enjoy it much more inside our house than out! πŸ˜ƒ

  3. Hello, Arwen! Your photos and very merry tale, plus the more serious reminiscences brought back many teen-year memories for me, too! Thank you!

    • The swampy mire the teen years can be. I hope lots of good teen memories πŸ˜ƒ

  4. Hi Arwen, Thank you for the sun-splashed lovely colored vines. Being a city-gal I have never once tasted fresh peas from the vine. And to tell the truth, I don’t see any peas. Are they growing inside the vines? Help!!

    • Ha ha, you’re right, no peas yet, these are still young plants, just leaves and tendrils. They still have some growing to do, flowers to bloom and pods to grow πŸ˜ƒ

      Oh it’s sad to think you haven’t tasted a fresh pea from the garden! The yummiest thing ever! The juicy sweetness! Do you have room for a pot plant? πŸ€”πŸ˜ƒ

  5. Beautiful photos with the plants soaking up the lovely light. A science lesson really.

  6. What your post transfers to me is something very refreshing – so do the photos or lets better say your peas. Watching them seems to me kind of a pea wood that you’ve grown in your garden! Or is it a pea jungle? Haha… Lovely how they behave, that pea teenagers.

    • Yes, it is like a jungle! These sprouted by surprise, my daughter spilled an old packet of seeds and we put all the seeds in a pot not thinking they would grow…they grew alright, yes into a forest! I love it πŸ˜ƒ

  7. You’re an incredible writer Arwen. I can see the images in my head as you describe them and am really enjoying the journey. Thank you.

  8. My grandmother had sweet peas in with her iris. My brother lives on the old farm now and those peas still come back every year, but the iris are long gone. Thank you for bringing back a wonderful memory of my Grandma!

  9. Arwen – saying ‘hi’ from across the Ditch from 100km south of Sydney! Having a grin and saying ‘thank you’. You are welcome to the ‘windy’ part of your name and being part of the ‘Shaky Isles’ but it’s lovely to read your post and know we are enjoying autumn together, especially after the horror summer we at least have experienced . . . thank you for the lovely photos. . .

    • Hello fellow Aussie πŸ˜ƒ
      Do you live near Tallong? My ancestors planted an orchard and market garden there and ran a shop and post office, a long time ago. Autumn in the southern highlands is pretty beautiful too! We filmed Babe down there in 1993.
      Oh yes the wind and shaky ground? Can’t say I love. Though I was very happy to read recently that all the earthquakes have been pushing us higher…
      I heard about your blistering summer and scary fires. Hope all is well where you are.

      • Lovely to hear from you: nope – am just up the road from Picton at the northern end of the beautiful Southern Highlands. Autumn had never been my fave season until I got here and a darling, wise neighbour said it was the best time here; v little wind, soft rain and only slowly lowering temps . . . absolutely lovely to have you here on this side of the equator . . . ‘Babe’ – love the film: you have sent me a task . . .

  10. A great story with vibrant photos creates a wonderful post and perfect choice for Celi’s first day away. Thanks for the smiles.

  11. Beautiful post Arwen, as always! I love your pics and stories. Always brings a warm smile to my face. ❀ U!

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