Reading—A beer with Baz The back screen door snapped shut and Baz stretched and blinked into the afternoon sun. He rubbed his eyes, scratched his head but his attention was piqued by the soft humming tunes from his neighbour’s backyard. He needlessly checked his watch as his parched tongue guided him to the fridge in the back shed. Vol 16 September 15th 2017 Armed with 28 April December 7th,cold 2017ones, Baz spent a moment looking over the Vol 48 27thtwo 2018
fence. The neighbour’s back garden was meticulously presented, with straight rows of goodness promising vegetables and herbs. His neighbour squatted amongst the plants, her floppy wide brimmed straw hat slightly frayed and faded, a link to summers past. Her hands moved deftly from plant to plant with regular pauses to massage the soil.
‘Hey, Chu Hua, how about a beer? I think it’s in the rules to have a chat with the neighbour.’ Chu Hua looked up and the thin film of perspiration made her face glow. Her single movement from haunches to standing without groan or grimace, had Baz straightening his crook knee and rubbing his back. Suitably distanced they both raised their stubbies in cheers and Chu Hua took a long sip. ‘Thirsty work eh, Chu Hua? How did you learn to grow a garden like that?” Chu Hua patted her brow. ‘Well Barry, my parents had a market garden and every bit of space was used. It’s a case of working out what grows best, good compost and if you tend to it daily you don’t need chemicals. We used to pick the produce daily and get it to the markets before dawn. It was hard work but my parents were very good at it and they learnt it all from their parents.’ Baz nodded and raised an eyebrow. ‘Where did you grow up?’ Chu Hua’s laugh lines mapped her face. ‘La Perouse in Sydney, Barry. You thought I was going to say China, but no, my parents used to farm the La Perouse Market Gardens. It’s been there for over one hundred and fifty years and they still do most of it by hand. In fact, its heritage listed these days which saves it from the development vultures. So Barry, my family has probably been here a lot longer than yours.’ Chu Hua scanned Baz’s backyard and took in the half completed gardening projects and smiled broadly. “How did you learn to NOT garden so well, Barry?’ Baz laughed out loud and took a decent drink. ‘That’s a bit rough, Chu Hua. As a kid, I was as keen as mustard. One spring I planted some carrots and then checked every day for results. My mother obviously felt sorry for me and dug in some whole carrots. I was tickled pink with these instant results and planted more varieties of vegetables. I became a bit surprised when ripe strawberries appeared in the cucumber plants one morning and downright suspicious on finding cleanly cut pumpkins the day after.’ Chu Hua’s teeth glistened in the sun. ‘Anyhow, Chu Hua, it all came to a sudden end when the old man cemented the whole backyard. He was not keen on gardening at all, and even hated mowing the lawn. On top of that, he was sick of the neighbours, who had perfect gardens, complaining about us kids digging tunnels into their yards to retrieve tennis balls from backyard cricket. Old Mrs Crawford from next door, got the fright off her life, when a head popped up amidst her sunflowers.’ The neighbourhood kookaburra flew off at Chu Hua’s laugh. She again scanned Barry’s backyard. ‘Now Barry, my mum would say ‘Yǒu qí fù bì yǒu qí zǐ’ which translates to ‘Like father like son.’’ Have a beer with Baz at john.longhurst59@gmail.com
beagle weekly : Vol 224 September 10th 2021
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