Botanica Dreaming | Winter Garden
Around lunchtime on a quiet and rather unremarkable Wednesday afternoon, a wild and surprising northwest wind swept into town like a rambunctious younger cousin visiting from a far distant corner of the country. Winter had come slowly to the valley this year, held at bay by a tenacious autumn who had hovered on the threshold, unable to concede that her time was up. She had lingered into early June, making it clear that she was not quite ready to allow winter to stake her claim. Not that the townsfolk minded, for who would have thought that bare skin would still be possible at this time of the year? The plants however, were more than a little perplexed at the unseasonable warmth and were not quite sure what they should be doing.
Well, on this particular day, and as nature would have it, a kiss of late Indian summer decided to give autumn a little giddy up by sweeping her off her feet. He laughed and teased, dancing and weaving around her, plucking golden leaves from branches and flinging them high into the swirling air before cascading them down into unruly piles on the paths and streets of town. Never one to give in easily, autumn dug her heels in for a good part of the afternoon. But late in the day, just as evening tipped a paint pot of pink and orange colour across the western sky, she finally conceded defeat. With a petulant toss of her resplendent auburn hair, she flounced through the doorway between the seasons, leaving an imperceptible warmth of her own that was different and deeper, more earthy, than the flighty warmth of the northwest wind. Winter smiled as she stepped into the inky night.
Curled up on the couch with her book in hand and a soft mohair rug draped over her knees, Ruby’s attention was caught by the changing light outside. The western horizon is not visible from this part of town but she could see the blushing sunset imbued in the garden canopy outside, bright prisms of colour dancing across the treetops. She sat still, mesmerized by the shifting light and watching the darkness slowly chase the colour from the sky. The blustery wind began to abate and she intuitively pulled the rug closer round her. Perhaps it was the drop in air pressure or how the sounds of the neighbourhood at dinnertime became more vibrant as the air became denser; while she could not yet feel a drop in temperature, Ruby sensed that the weather had finally turned.
She had travelled out to the valley the day before, eager to spend some time planting the garden with its winter crop and catching up with the family. Driving out along the highway, she had been surprised at how long the autumn colour had lasted this year. The vibrant greens and gold of the vineyards, the smoky blue hills and bright sunspots dotted across the paddocks never failed to stir her soul and make her heart sing. After visiting her parents at the Mountain Views retirement village she treated herself to her favourite Indian dish, vegetable makhani- seasonal vegetables cooked in light Indian spices and crushed cashews mixed together in a velvety tomato based creamy sauce. It was not often that she had takeaway food, preferring to cook at home, but this dish was special; cooked authentically and with care, it enlivened her senses and stirred memories of intimate dinner dates with a long since departed love.
This morning she had woken late and a little disorientated. She had had a lot on her mind recently and felt airy and somewhat flighty. She decided to ground herself in time and place by pulling on her walking boots and heading off to Badger Weir. What a magical and mystical place, so close to town yet so far removed from the hustle and bustle of daily life. The road wound eastwards into the base of the mountain, pushing deeper into the mountain ash and manna gum forest that was home to an abundance of wildlife. Ancient fern gullies lined the creek that flowed sharp and clear and cold, tiny rapids tumbled over timeworn stones, swirling into deep pools that held the dark secrets of the platypus. Ruby meandered along the well-worn bush track, listening to the bird song that accompanied her through the familiar yet ever changing forestscape. She smiled as the kingfishers laughed at her clumsiness when she slipped on the damp leaf litter, reaching out to steady herself on the mossy green branches of old growth grandfather trees.
The wind was picking up, singing through the trees and blowing out the worries of the week. Ruby’s thoughts turned to her daughter Tilda. Together they had spent many a winter’s afternoon traversing these paths. Always a beautiful place to come to in summer, winter visits brought special adventures of rushing icy waterfalls, glistening dew laden cobwebs and mushroom houses in hidden fairy glades. After a long striding walk they would find a clearing and enjoy a hot lunch and billy tea cooked on their little camp cooker before heading home to a hot shower and the fire burning brightly.
Emerging from the forest more grounded and present, Ruby thought of the work she wanted to do in the garden. She loved turning the rich soil, preparing it for a new crop of seasonal delights that brought the excitement of new tastes and creative dishes to bestow upon her family. Wintery dark leafy greens such as crisp, curly kale and frilly slender rocket are nutrient rich, densely packed with folate and vitamins A, C and K. Intensely flavourful ingredients such as fetta cheese, pancetta and walnuts can neatly balance their bitterness and Ruby’s mind danced through the options of dealing with their different personalities: the beet greens and rocket need a tender, delicate touch, a gentle wilting in the pan, whereas the heartier greens of kale and collard call for braising with aromatic spices that blend and temper their strength.
At home again, Ruby enjoyed her pottering, the plants responding to her gentle murmuring and tender touch. The creek lay quietly, patiently awaiting the rush of winter rain that would flush it clean, aerating the plants and invigorating the creatures that called it home. Ruby was at peace. Her mind relaxed and spirit nurtured as she felt her energies turn inwards, lost in introspection. Winter offers a gift of time; a quiet moment to recharge and prepare for the new growth that comes after the darkness of the winter solstice.
Weary from her forest walk and garden labours, Ruby retired inside to a hot shower, comfortable clothes and a steaming pot of tea. With the warmth of a lavender wheat bag on her shoulders and the heady scent of cinnamon incense floating through the house, she settled down on the couch and disappeared into her imagination.
Words: Katrin Oliver - Yarra Valley Author
Photography: Emma Codrington
Botanica Dreaming
Katrin Oliver brings the spirit of Botanica Editions: The Willow House to life through the Story of Telling and a series of bedtime stories, as she shares the subtleties of this land and place in the Yarra Valley.
