Today I picked up my freshly painted Garden Gnomes from a lovely lady (a complete stranger) who offered to give them a facelift for me in response to my call out.
Why would I bother getting gnomes painted when I could just get more from Bunnings? Because these gnomes are magic!
They are so magical that every time I look at them I am taken back 40 or so years to a wonderful fairyland where everything was perfect and happy and fun. This magical place actually has a legitimate address, it is in Bunbury by the ocean. In fact, at night when you slept in this place you could clearly hear the sounds of the waves crashing against the shore, as loud and as clear as if you were standing there ankle deep in the water yourself. In the morning you woke to the sounds of magpies calling from the trees outside your bedroom window.
This was only one of my many favourite things about this place, the magical ocean. Since then I have always loved the sound of the sea because it reminds me of that happy, safe, secure, relaxed feeling I had when I was there. Great big waves rolling into the shore, beautifully formed, curling and growing in height until they finally reach the sandy edge and they smash down onto the beach with a bam! and then you can hear the foamy bubbly aftermath slowly rolling back down towards the sea ready to unite with the next wave as it forms and give it the height and momentum it needs to come crashing in. I would lay in bed and listen, fascinated, imagining I could see it. I could see all the sea creatures that I knew were there because during the day I had gone for my daily beachcombers walk and seen it all. The crabs, seagulls, little fish and shrimp darting about in the rock pools, barnacles clinging to the rocks waiting for the tide to come in, starfish and sea urchins who were washed ashore drying in the sun. Little bunches of seaweed and those rice bubble things that I loved to pop. The stunning shells and smooth patterned rocks. As I listened and imagined I would soon drift off into a wonderful heavy sleep, dreaming of what wonderful adventures the next day could hold in the Magical Fairy Garden.
5 Baronia Place. You know, some days I can't remember what you said to me 3 minutes ago, but I can tell you every single detail of 5 Baronia Place. I can tell you the colour and texture of the carpet, the colour and texture of the walls, I could draw you a diagram of the layout, tell you the colour of the 'good towels' (the decorative ones you dare not use, because they were for display) and I can hear the exact sound of the lemon sherbert lolly jar lid as it would play 'Beautiful Dreamer' through a wind up mechanism that switched on when the lid came off. I have not seen it since the 1980's and yet I can feel the carpet under my feet and tell you where every cup, saucer, glass, and cake tin was kept in the cupboards. Oh my god the cake tins! Those things got some use. I can distinctly hear the sound of the transistor radio belting out the intro music to the ABC news every night at 5 o'clock. It was my grandparents place. Nanny Anna and Poppy Alex. I can remember them in there like it was yesterday too.
My childhood was quite difficult. Not because I went without, in fact my lovely parents did everything in their power to ensure I had everything any kid could ever want for. While all my friends Mums were home baking cookies and making crafts my Mum was off working really hard nursing so we could have all the cool stuff and do the cool things we wanted. We were loved, supported, nurtured, given opportunities and allowed freedoms but given firm boundaries. A pretty good mix really, looking back. So what was the difficult part? I would say it was me. I was a really difficult kid and I can say that with confidence because I am still now a difficult adult. I can't pinpoint what it is, I just know I don't function like everyone else. A lot of inner turmoil there, many difficulties, and for the great part I am so often misunderstood. But the person who misunderstood me the most was (and still is) my Mum. I to this day can't tell if it is our many similarities or our many differences that cause the clash (perhaps a blend of both?) but they sure as hell have made for so much anxiety, contention, frustration, and anger. And then having a submissive Dad who wouldn't intervene it was commonly just a battlefield between my Mum and I and generally not a very good atmosphere. Sometimes it still isn't. But I suppose we just live with it now, either too exhausted or too stubborn to change it.
Anyways..... Mum would send me off to Bunbury for the school holidays so that my brother and I didn't just spend the whole holiday fighting and driving her crazy. He had a street full of kids to play with and most of them were boys. Plus, my brother was a Mummy's boy and didn't like being away from home. So off I went - on the train on my big adventure to spend two weeks with the grandparents.
Nan would pick me up at the train station at the other end and I was always SO happy to see her. She was loud and jovial and although quite authoritarian by nature, she was so besotted by me that she was quite forgiving and lenient. My two weeks in Bunbury were usually spent doing these things:
1) playing in the garden
2) playing at the beach
3) playing at the Clifton Beach Motel (where my Nanna worked) with the other kids
4) going shopping at Cronshaws
5) fishing & crabbing
6) going to visit Nans friends
7) EATING! (Nan loved baking and cooking)
All these things were my favourite things in the world and I have a head full of memories clear as day doing these things. Perhaps to a normal kid the thought of spending two weeks alone with two older people would sound boring, but not to me. I was in my elements when I was the center of attention and when I was left to play and explore alone, especially by the sea, so this was the perfect environment for me to flourish.
I could have easily spent a lifetime in Pops magical fairy garden and it wouldn't be long enough. He paid careful attention to every millimeter of that property and it was a large corner block so there was a lot to tend to. I remember him coming home from work in his little 2 door orange Toyota corolla and he would spend every moment he could outside in the garden till the sun went down and he came in for dinner. The sound of him slowly plodding along out there in his thongs always gave away his whereabouts. Flip, flop, flip, flop, flip, flop... The occasional sound of tools tinkering in the garage and shears clanking. The moving of the tractor sprinkler hose from place to place and the loud hum of the roller mower as it pressed the lawn down and the blades of grass were trimmed back to a fine even looking sea of green velvet.
There were so many separate little areas in this garden. There was a place down the back of the block where a fence divided the ornamental garden and yard and behind that fence was a lovely productive garden with the tallest tomato plants you ever saw. When the fruit ripened the tomatoes were the size of a grapefruit, big, plump, juicy, ruby red ox heart tomatoes where one single slice would cover your whole sandwich. I know there was other veggies but those tomatoes are what I remember. Out the front of the veggie patch was a tree stump from a sawn down great big old gum. It was a perfect height for Pop to kneel down and gut and clean the fish he caught at the old wharf. I remember many a day standing there watching him as the scales flicked off with a knife, heads sliced off, and the guts removed. There I too was taught how to clean fish, a skill I was so proud of.
In the ornamental area there was a lemon tree that was lush and green and abundantly productive, I remember my Nan being so proud of that tree, likely because she used the lemon in her cooking. The back door patio was surrounded with beautiful hanging baskets of cascading succulents and fuscias, and the walls were adorned with European style ornaments and a colourful weather vane. The garden edges were lined with shrubs and flowers, that's one thing my Pop did better than anyone else I know - flowers. All year round there was a sea of magnificent colour. Petunias, pansies, lobelia, alyssum, viola, so big and bright you would think you were in a candy store. Each one in place, each one carefully groomed and trimmed, it might have looked like a carpet but Pop paid careful attention to each and every individual plant.
Over by the bathroom window was my favourite part of the entire garden. It was layered and built up with a mission brown painted log retainer wall. In there were beautiful glittery rocks, shells, succulents, ferns, flowers, and colourful ornaments, all carefully placed in a way that made it so beautiful you could sit there and stare at it for hours. I remember loving sitting on that little retainer wall and watching the glittery rocks glistening in the sun. I would pick them up and move them about in the light to watch them sparkle. To this day shiny things enchant me. One plant in that garden that captured my attention the most was a stunning Zebra Haworthia. These look like they have got a layer of snow that has fallen on their frond in waves. It fascinated me no end. I always thought of that plant. Just last year I bought one and really enjoy having it in my own garden, every time I see it I think of the one in Pops garden.
The front yard was pristine. The massive lawn area that covered the block all the way to the corner of the road had not a blade of grass out of place. There was a pergola area out the front that shaded the kitchen area and in front of that was the flowers I spoke of earlier. Among it all was pots and ornaments, rocks, bed edging, everything served a purpose be it to add colour or to be functional. I remember the big pine tree out front with its strong scent of pine which was in line with eucalyptus, tea tree, or peppermint. It was refreshing to the lungs and nose when you breathed it in. I know this because I suffered badly with asthma and my Nan would make me stand under the pine tree when I was having breathing issues. Isn't it funny how Nans had their own cures for all your ailments. If I fell and scraped my knee she would rub an aloe vera leaf on it. If my eczema was flaring up she would take me to the beach and make me swim in the salt water. Nans are so wise.
The best part of my Pops magical fairy garden was all the little characters that he had scattered throughout. Little brightly painted gnomes that looked like they each had a job and were busy at work. Some were watering, hoeing, sweeping, raking, all with their little rosy cheeks and shiny peaked hats. I absolutely loved them. For a kid this was like being in wonderland. Not only gnomes, there were all sorts of fancy swan pots and cement animals. They all were in top condition because Pop would have the annual painting session where he lined them all up and gave them a fresh coat of colour.
Here I am now, it has been a decade since my Pop passed. When his house sold I randomly chose some garden ornaments and took them home, not really thinking much about it. I wasn't in my own home back then so I didn't really have a garden. They sat outside and didn't get much love. They faded and peeled and flaked. Time passed and I finally met the person who would for the first time in my life understand me, something I never thought possible. We happily bought our first home together four years ago and it was the most perfect and beautiful house we had ever seen. I can easily say that this house is fence to fence positive energy. Perhaps that is why now I am the one who gets home from work, throws down my work bag, and potters in the garden till the sun goes down. I know every leaf and flower, rock and shell, gnome and pot, inch of lawn, as it is all part of the Magical Fairy Garden that brings me happiness, joy, and love now - just the same as my Pops garden did when I was a kid. For this reason it was the most wonderful feeling ever to pick up my gnomes off the kind lady who cleaned and painted them up for me and see them totally restored back to their former glory.
With their new rosy cheeks, their new shiny hats, and their new glistening eyes, they have pride of place in the garden among my own sea of blossoms.
Magic.
