In the town I was born, plants grow so easily that gardening is mostly pulling out weeds and cutting back trees and creepers that threaten to take over your house. This is the house where I learned to walk, where we played hide and seek, learned to swim (and then skinny dipped when the parents weren't there!), where we sat for hours talking about everything we could think of, listening to birds, watching the cats stalk them (and fail miserably, for they are housecats that prefer drinking milk from saucers than bothering with smelly birds). This is where Dad learnt about keeping koi fish, where the frogs lay their eggs and thousands of tadpoles squiggle to the surface in summer, only to turn into tiny frogs - so small you'd mistake them for grasshoppers as they plunge around the three fish ponds.
Dad recently got sick, giving me a rare chance to take a break from city living and visit home. As I sat around hoping that he'd listen to the nurse and keep his sugar levels in tact, I also had a chance to wander around the garden with some nostalgic thoughts.
I leave you with some pics of the house and garden...
Above: the bird corner and the khoi pond. Below: the swimming pool + random selection of pets adorning it (meet Jane the cat and Absalon the weimarraner).
