In my professional life I care for patients who grieve for their lost home. I care for asylum seekers who have been forced to flee their home, often leaving behind loved ones. The trauma these patients have experienced in the process of fleeing, and within Australian borders in detention stays with them, exacerbating their loss. For much of my career I cared for Aboriginal patients. Many of these patients would articulate concern for their home Country, which their forebears had left, either voluntarily or forcibly. In some cases, they grieve for a home they have never set foot on. In both instances I have witnessed how the relationship that a person has with place, their home place affects their health and wellbeing, particularly their mental health.
I on the other hand have not consciously realized a strong relationship to a particular place as my home. I once spent six months while working overseas living in hotel rooms. I know this would be decidedly unsatisfactory for those that seek home-cooked meals and familiar warmth. Instead I found it liberating, freeing me from housework and cooking, just able to concentrating on what I did best back then -working.
With motherhood I have felt the burden of home – having a “sensory child” that requires constant stimulation has meant that he and I are bouncing off the walls if we spend too much time at home. I am also decidedly unsuited to home-making, cooking, cleaning, actually any of the domestic tasks. It is a burden that I drown in daily and perhaps one day, just for a day I will manage to master. Until that day comes though, being in our house will always remind me of my failings.
My husband and I have lived in five different towns since we were married just over ten years ago, across four different Australian states or Territories. I never worried about this, loving each adventure of immersion in a new region, novelty being my best friend. My husband on the other hand found it unsettling. Unlike me, who had lived in one city for most of my early adult life he was raised a nomad, attending 17 different schools. He yearned for geographical stability, and was adamant that we would offer our children the same, so we resettled in Melbourne just over a year ago. Our compromise was that from a stable geographic base we would make frequent trips. I have taken him up on that and have booked three so far for this year.
I never thought that home, being a geographical place of connectedness rather than relationship with individuals was important to me. Until this week, when my home was sold and I understood just how important it had been all along, without me even realizing it.
The home that was sold was my parents, the home of my childhood from age 11 and the home I kept returning to in between my frequent travels. The home I am referring to though is not my parent’s house, a place of high expressed emotion and constant noise during my youth – Ben, Sisi and each of your rock bands I am looking at you. The noisy love expressed in that house (and now much of that noise is the result of my own children) will follow my mother to their new home. It is my father’s garden.
Dad is a frequent traveler, and by frequent I mean hop on a plane and visit Paris from Melbourne for a one-day meeting sort of frequent. In between legging it between continents he can usually be found in his garden. He works hard in that garden, tending it, making it beautiful. It is unusually big, two acres only a half an hour from Melbourne’s CBD and a rural oasis in the suburbs. Weather permitting, since I was eleven I have retreated to that garden. As a child I balanced on semi-rotten fence posts, arms outstretched soaking in the birdsong and scent of fresh cut grass. I studied there, escaping the constant noise of my mother’s house and the grey existence of my high school days. The garden was colorful and sustained my optimism that my life would be so too, even as I wallowed in self oriented adolescent angst. My dad worked harder than ever on his garden to prepare for our wedding reception which was a garden party. The promise the garden had whispered to me as a downcast adolescent was fulfilled that day as we celebrated surrounded by global entertainers – African drummers, a Japanese origami artist, Flamenco dancers. Dad’s colorful garden was bursting with even more color just as it did during the reception of my two sisters also. And then we headed off, up north to the tropics. I would return to the garden every year, and my children, particularly my second son have come to love it too.
Dad’s garden is not traditional, being whimsical in its layout. Corners, nooks and crannies are landscaped according to my mother’s own global interests. A Japanese pond and koi near the veggie patch. A small field of European wild flowers down near the stable. My second son loves my Dad and his Papa’s garden. Unperturbed by lack of bait he fishes for those koi – with a real fishing rod for hours. He digs potatoes, chases butterflies and throws every rock or stick he can lay his hands on.
While I know it is the right time for Mum and Dad to move on, I also know that Dad doesn’t really want to, and that he will really miss his garden. So, I am writing this post for Dad, to let him know that the garden he created over the last twenty eight years is my true home, my Country. His wandering, domestic failure, would be professor, approaching middle aged daughter wants to thank him for his garden. It has been my home for a very long time and I am ever so grateful.
Just as I share pictures of our travels, today I am sharing pictures of my home and Country, Dad’s garden. He would tell you that the garden isn’t at it’s best right now at the beginning of autumn, you should see it when the roses are in bloom. Don’t listen to him though. It’s lovely any time of year.
Bub 2 fishing in his Papa’s garden
I want to open up the comments here for those of you that maybe aren’t used to commenting on blogs. If you have been blessed too by my Dad’s garden, feel free to let him know as a comment. He is, I believe the only male relative of mine to read this blog and has been know on occasion to pop in and write a guest post. He has actually, on one of his very important business trips been mistaken by a Qantas steward that mistook him for a travel blogger. So, I think it is safe to say he will see the comments. Also, if you are a travel blogger, or not, feel free to use this post as a prompt to reflect on your own ideas about home. I’d love to hear your own thoughts on the topic.
Bubs on the Move usually provides tips and advice for parents traveling with small children including attraction and accommodation reviews. This post is a bit of a detour from my usual ramblings but I’d love for ya’ll to join us on our family adventures by either signing up for the newsletter or joining us on Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest and Instagram to receive updates.
I will have you know, Danielle, that your father is not the only male relative to read this blog.
Kind regards,
Your brother
PS. The place looks beautiful in these pics. I’m so sad to see it go.
Hi Ben. Very sweet of you to read and share. I wish we could get you home one more time before they move. xx
I fondly remember that garden Danielle, the pool and the beautiful bath….a lovely blog to take me back to our days of youth xxx
Hi Samantha. How lovely to have a primary school friend drop by and make a comment. So glad you remember the garden fondly. The first time we had friends over there was our grade six primary school pool party I think. Would love to hear what you are up to these days (have just seen snippets on Facebook).
Well now that I have wiped away my tears I would love to comment on your Country, your Home. Danielle, I like you are challenged in the house-keeping department and prefer to be out with the kids instead of home reflecting on shortfalls. 🙂 We have a 890sq.m. block and I know the work that takes to keep up. Marty and I both love the outdoors and so do our kids. When they were little and I wasn’t working but had no vehicle, we picnicked every morning for morning tea, in our front yard on our man made hill or in the back yard on top of two huge rocks we had delivered. Your Dad will know and appreciate that you love the garden he nurtured for you all to enjoy and I bet he gets a tear in his eye too when he reads your post telling us how you appreciate it and will miss it. I love that it is whimsical with European and Japanese touches and I can see your Mum’s behind the scenes influence in his love too. In the next few years we may decide to downsize and move too and our Daughter (28) says no Mum you can’t sell this place, it is my home. She loves that we built a fairie garden for her 21st when others had long forgotten fairies. It is overgrown now with a broken street sign pointing to fairies or garden and concrete mushrooms overgrown with ferns. But I imagine the joy some other little girl will find in it. I feel for your Dad moving on from his joy but he sounds like the kind of guy that will embrace his new abode (and garden?) with excitement. Good on you Dad.
What a lovely heartfelt comment Jan. I wish I could see the fairy garden. I’ve seen the odd snap of your own tropical paradise on your blog or Facebook I think a while back. Picnics in the garden are absolutely the way to go. Your own block must take plenty of work. I haven’t inherited my Dad’s green thumb (and could have chosen to include stories of when I had accidentally messed up important garden tasks he gave me). My husband is working hard on our own smaller plot though we are lucky – we have a huge reserve at the end of our court.
Ah borrowed landscape – the best sort lol.
What a beautiful and loving tribute to your father. The garden is so pretty, especially those blue blooms. Gardening is a big part of my own mother’s life, and her yard which took years to create is one of the main reasons why my parents haven’t moved closer to us. It’s interesting what you say about Home because many of the things my mom planted in her Texas yard remind her of growing up in the Philippines. I like that my own girl is starting to show an interest in plants, too. When we were living in a condo in Malaysia, tending to my flowers is one of the things that I really missed about my permanent home in Texas. I thought I’d jump right back into gardening when we returned, but I didn’t. We were so busy when we moved back, the summer heat was brutal, and then winter was here before I knew it. Good thing that I had set my garden to coast along untended for the years while I was gone. Now, spring is just around the corner, and I’m itching to start planting things again.
Michele I completely understand why gardening was put on the back-burner after your huge move. You must have been exhausted. I love following the travel blogger’s instagram accounts because shots of their own home and yards often turn up – really important for contextualizing people.
The photos are beautiful and for anyone lucky enough to visit the garden will know it is just a small sample of your father’s great labour of love. I think we will all feel a little less anchored to home when it is sold.
Your husband and make infrequent blog user.
Thanks for popping into the blog sweetheart.
Dani, I love the pics of your Dad’s garden. I wish I could have gotten to see it. Your Dad gave you one of the greatest gifts of all I believe. My nanna and grandad’s garden gave me so much joy as a child, it gave me a place to escape from an unhappy home, an appreciation of nature and open space and of course it gave me a love of gardening. Your Dad’s garden seems to have given you so many things and it is lovely that you are so grateful for them. I think gardens give children the space just to be, an opportunity that is so often missing from so many kid’s lives these days. Your article has inspired me to get on with the job of creating my new garden.
Kristina, you did an amazing job with your garden in your old home and I’m sure it will be the same in your new one. Your kids always use theirs as an outdoor extension of their indoor play space, and I know my kids always loved playing in it too. Look forward to seeing your new one in May!
What a lovely tribute. I remember seeing (experiencing) the garden oasis for the first time and being delighted by every turn, discovering every nook and crannie. Beautiful job Murray! I have fond fond memories!
Hi Tash, I think you definitely got to see the best of the garden with swing band in situ for Nick and Stu’s wedding Tash! I’m sure he will make another smaller oasis in the new place that you will get to see too.
These photos are beautiful Danielle, they have a sense of calmn about them and conjures up all the feelings that you associate “home” to be. A lovely homage to your dad and his beautiful garden.
I also relate to being domestically challenged and much prefer to go exploring with the kiddies outdoors than home-making – whatever that is!?
I am also no green thumb but appreciate or is that envy, how gardeners like your dad can keep plants alive. Your dad does this quite beautifully. How gorgeous is that lawn!
Sorry to hear that it’s now sold but these images have captured it perfectly. It sounds like your dad doesn’t mind taking trips. So there is a nice little patch of green here in Brisbane that he is more than welcome to tend to. My lemon trees haven’t fruited for two seasons and I killed my hydrangeas. They told me they were hardy!? Big fat no. 🙂
xoxo
Rene it sounds like you are at least trying with your garden – a lemon tree and deceased hydrangeas. I’m afraid I pretty much leave it up to my husband although when the baby is a little girl I might have a few spare hands to be more help. Dad and his siblings are all good gardeners. I’m not sure if Dad is heading up to Brisbane anytime soon (tends to be Bejing, New Orleans and Paris) but I’ll send him round to help you do a fix up.
Your mum & dads home was always beautiful!
Lovely writing Dan
Xox
Hi Sarah,
Thanks for commenting. Your mum and dad’s is too!
Lovely to read about the gorgeous garden and see the beautiful pics! I recall driving over some garden edging accidentally after some lovely Esler shindig having not even realised…think Simone mentioned the garden had been driven over and I worked it out, oops, how embarrassing! I blame artistic absent-mindedness, or youth and inexperience. I also attended several 21sts at which we all enjoyed the garden (I’m sure some up close and personal), and Easter egg hunts and many Hottest 100 pool parties too. I loved the many nooks! Hope the new owners will enjoy the grounds as much as the old, and that they appreciate the effort and love that has been put in! Thanks for sharing Dani! Xx