Sally Kindberg and the importance of green spaces

The first place I visited when I was well enough after having the Corona virus was the Adelaide Community Garden, where I have a tiny square (3′ x 3′) of herbs – rosemary, Moroccan mint, thyme and hyssop, all planted with bees in mind as well as for their scent and taste. Here it is in March …

A couple of kind fellow allotmenteers  watered the square when I was in isolation for two months, so it’s now dancing in greenery …

On those first visits, still wonky from being ill,  I feebly but happily sat and stared at the flowering and burgeoning on other more ambitious plots, watched a pair of blue tits feeding their young and listened to the hum of bees, and birds celebrating the sunny weather in joyful arias. There are robins, blackbirds and goldfinches here as well. Bliss!  And once again I realised the importance of green spaces, how they are essential for humans’ wellbeing, how even looking after a small square of garden or a few pot plants can be an act of optimism in these weird and challenging times.

I’m lucky enough to have a tiny back yard, which despite facing north east, gets enough early morning sun to encourage a camellia, a rose bush and a bay tree as well as assorted ferns.  Nearby, beyond a thirty foot wall, are the main railway lines in and out of Euston, whose rumbles I can sometimes hear at night.  Occasionally the vibrations from passing trains activate clockwork robots and other toys on the shelf above my work desk, a friendly sound of gentle whirring and clanking. The robot on the right was bought from a stall in Bridport Market, was made in Japan in the 1960s.  She has a sparking tummy.  Sometimes.

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