June 22, 2008 | Ian Bland | Leave a comment The theme this week for Jon’s JVG Radio Method on 3RRR is “GARDEN”. I had a lot of fun with this one too. In the studio once again this week. I rather like the irony though, here we are with a show theme about gardens and what do we talk about? How to get a child out of a locked car. Don’t ask me, and I confess to be the one who started talking about it. Still it was a good show this week. Dan Warner did a great version of “Garden Party” and yes I was one of the cast of dozens doing the backing vocals. Ed Bates is on backing again this week. To play this poem directly in your browser – just click the “play” button below: https://ianbland.com.au/audio/JVG_Poem20080622.mp3 GARDEN “Your garden is considered the neighbourhood slum” Mrs S, from next door, was addressing my Mum Peering down from her ladder propped up on the fence With her Sherry fuelled aura of omnipotence Our garden, I admit, was nothing ornate We preferred to describe it as “in a vegetative state’ “Unspoilt” as Uncle Jim tactfully put There were pockets where Europeans had never set foot Nature ruled unchallenged and we were but guests While Next door was as natural as Pamela Anderson’s breasts Mrs S demanded order from every leaf, every blade It was less like a garden than a military parade A sign on her gate read “Look but don’t touch” The lawn was trimmed closer than a Pole dancer’s crutch Rows of orange Pansy’s in a regimented file As straight and as rigid as the Reverend Fred Nile There were Lamb’s Ears, Goat’s Beard, Crane’s Bill and Ox Eye Cock’s Comb, Baby’s Breath, Bleeding Heart’s and Cherry Pie Sneezeweed, Bladderwrack, Horehound and Curly Dock Pincushions, Silver Bells, Speedwell and Hollyhock Snap Dragons, Cat’s Ears, Foxgloves and Cumquats Sweet Peas, Leopard’s Bane, Spiderwort, Forget me nots Azaleas and Dahlias, Freesias, Godetias Salvias, Ranunculus, Zinnias and Primulas “My Aspidistra’s are famous” she declared with a sneer But I couldn’t tell her Digitalis from her Clitorea Her Ivory Aruncus from her powder white Crocus Her furry Black Eyed Susans from her fiery Red Hot Pokers Patrolling the fence line, spray gun on her hips Picking off weevils, mealybugs and thrips Smugly proclaiming “No Aphids on my flowers” My father took pity — and offered her ours It was abundantly clear Mrs S. didn’t like us I politely suggested what she could do with her Ficus Our garden was a tip compared to next door But to a kid it was Eden, a whole world to explore Just an average backyard in an average location But it’s borders stretched as far as your imagination A fortress, a castle, an ancient Pharaoh’s tomb Sherwood Forest, Treasure Island, the dark side of the moon Where Mum could read a book and spend time alone Where the dog could dig to China to conceal his favourite bone Where my sisters sourced ingredients for the mud pies they’d bake Where dad could build a Barbie to burn the shit out of the steak Where I took a hat trick and thrashed the Poms at cricket Assisted by the lemon tree fielding at mid-wicket Where hundreds of balls made their escape on the breeze To new homes over fences, down drains and up trees Buying a home in those days wasn’t quite as hard Most suburban houses had a fairly decent yard Now the high cost of land has put paid to that What once bought a house barely buys a one room flat “Under-performing Assets” they call the old quarter acre blocks Sold off for apartments, Townhouses and Double Occs There’s money in your backyard but the rewards are bittersweet Just ask the kids forced to play footy in the street My Gran once observed, showing all her shrewd Scot nous “The garden is the most important room in the house” © Copyright 2008 Ian Bland Share this:TweetEmailMoreTelegram