While Hanging out the Washing

I'm sure I'm not the only person in the world who hangs their camera around their neck before hanging out the washing.

I love hanging washing out on the line. It means it's a decent day out, which is a bonus in itself. I love the simple technology of pegs, which are surprisingly useful in the kitchen and the office, as well as on the clothesline. And there's that feeling of virtue that comes over me when I'm methodically pegging damp clothes on the line. I guess it's the most basic use of solar and wind energy--you've got to feel good about that.

But it's also a chance to play paparazzi in the garden. I like to check out the lighting situation and new growth on the way up to the clothes line, then take photos on the way down. I was really only expecting to see a few specs of recently germinated seeds, but as always, there was so much more going on.

The lovely blushing Yugoslavian lettuces have seeded all over the place, guaranteeing a supply all winter. You can tell when they've hit a rich spot of soil. This one is camping out in the lime tree's pot, and looks particularly pleased with itself. Does it know it will be the first to be salad?

Now, we've all heard of cut-and-come-again salad. But cut-and-come-again fennel? I kid you not. I remember this plant from late summer. It was self sown in a particularly awkward spot up the very top terrace, and when it came time to harvest it, I couldn't pull the plant up, and ended up snapping it off at ground level. It looks like that root is now going to grow another couple of fennel bulbs. This is really something... what else will produce second-chance veges like this?

A sprinkle of lettuce seeds (mixed) on a bed of Zoodoo + a bit of rain + a bit of sun = salad. It's tempting to think of lettuce as a summer crop, but it does much better in the cool and wet than in the heat and dry. I'm sure it doesn't much like frost, but we don't get much frost here.

Sorrel is a permanent resident in this garden, and is threatening to take the place over. I am brutal with chopping it back, and every time it sends up a glorious bouquet of lemony green leaves to thank me. I think the best thing to do with sorrel is to make pesto. Super green, super lemony taste.

The planting-in-straight-lines experiment is going really well. I'm enjoying looking up from the computer and seeing rows of tiny green leaves appearing against the dark soil. First the radishes, then the beets, then the carrots. The green onions had a head start in the green house, and they haven't quite got used to being outdoors yet. I guess that's the beauty of putting seeds directly into the ground. They may take a while longer to germinate, but once they do they are fully acclimatised to their place in the universe, and just get on with growing -- no culture shock.

Peas and fennel, shooting away nicely. There's something special about pea plants. They are so complex, so promising. I'll put these seedlings in the pots against the sunny wall, and they'll climb and flower, and hopefully give us a mid-winter pea crop.

These onions are called Ishikura, which is the only reason I'm growing them. I'm a sucker for seeds with lovely names. They are looking too whispy and fragile to plant out just yet.

Not that long ago I was mourning the end of summer -- who knows why. There's so much going on in the garden in spite of the cooler and shorter days. Seeds germinating, old plants re-sprouting, clothes drying... so much to be happy about.