Jo H. over at her blog Notes from Underground, commented that you can always tell a North Coast Girl by the way she likes a verandah in a storm. So instead of the post on why I like Nietzsche that I had planned, here are some other things that this North Coast Girl does.
This North Coast Girl always leaves her window open, even though she lives on a main road and the afternoon traffic drones past, even though when it starts to rain her bedspread gets speckled with water drops because of the dodgy architecture of her house. It makes her feel in the middle of things.
This North Coast Girl cycles to university in the mornings and back in the evening, dissecting the park across from her townhouse, following the creek (sometimes stopping to fish plastic bags and branches out of it on the way home) as it winds through inner suburbia, turning onto the Brisbane corso along the river before pushing herself to get up the hill onto the Green Bridge* that takes her across the river’s expanse over to the campus.
This North Coast Girl joins the vegetarian society, which has a free Hare Krishna cooking class on the Grassy Knoll on a Tuesday evening, and a yoga night a few weeks later. She studies latin verb conjugations on the grass in the sunny Great Court when the library is too full or too suffocating.
And this North Coast Girl brings a part of her North Coast into her townhouse courtyard. She collects boxes, paints them bright colours with her friend Jen (whose flowers are nicer than hers, but whose clouds aren’t) and fills them with vegetable plants. Because she can. She calls it her Townhouse Box Garden Project.
There are lots of different vegetable seedlings – lettuces, beans, tomatoes, silverbeet, zucchini and broccoli (of which she isn’t sure if they will grow well, but tries anyway), parsley, basil, freshly sown radishes, two capsicum seedlings that survived the first week’s possum razing. (She covers them with a net now, to keep them protected.) Every weeks he feeds them with a nice dose of liquid seaweed and fish emulsion.
The seedlings grow nicely in the three weeks since they were planted:
It makes her happy to have a garden in her courtyard. And so she spends her Sunday afternoon pottering away, singing along to Sally Seltmann’s happy music on her ipod while sowing radishes in a spare box, replacing the seedlings that didn’t pull through their possum-razing, and feeling the potting mix settle under her fingernails.