Spring Planting and not attending reunions

The first day of Spring was a cracker. Somehow, despite my preference for rain, the sunshine filled me with enough energy to plant out the entire vegetable garden.

I've put in two types of zucchinis and two types of cucumber; one is a Japanese climbing variety we'll pickle.

There's a few cherry tomato plants and some mini capsicums. There's dill and thyme to add to the herbs.

I've also planted some dutch creams, although I fear they're a little bit too late to do well. I still maintain, out of everything I've grown over the years, there is nothing as humble and beautiful as a home grown potato. They are the ultimate luxury.

There's an entire garden bed filled with all kinds of varieties of lettuce; an ode to the salads we'll be eating all summer long. I know we'll eat rice paper rolls on repeat and crunchy fresh lettuce makes them infinitely better.

Some will also be pilfered by family in lettuce emergencies, when peppery greens are needed and insipid supermarket rocket simply will not do.

Those with a keen eye will notice the nasturtiums dotted between the green beans and the bare spots where turmeric and ginger lay below the surface. Sure - there's a few medicinal plants like chamomile and peppermint, and even an elderflower tree, but this year, there's been a shift.

I've planted things that are much more basic, things that I think I can actually grow, and plants we will actually eat.

Usually I'd have delusions of grandeur, go all out and plant a fancy melon in every colour of the rainbow. I've done this annually despite the fact that I'm yet to eat a single one, as they wilt and rot and the possums ravish them before we get home from the beach to harvest.

I'd usually plant some expensive heirloom tomatoes that would never survive the mid December fruit fly invasion. Not this year. I've even left corn off the list, because it takes up so much space and it's pretty cheap to buy.

It's taken me a while to gather this knowledge and apply it. Something is definitely different.

I mean, to give you an idea of the chaos that used to prevail, I've previously planted wasabi. In a pot. In Australia. Throughout summer.

It stayed alive for an astonishing amount of time although never yielded any actual wasabi rhizome- regardless of how hard I wished for it to turn out beautiful green bulbs of zingy delight.

The truth is and always has been, if it was not planted near a spring or babbling brook in a Japanese-esque climate, it's not going to be destined for Tetsuya's kitchen.

At one point, I thought this was an attainable goal; to become a boutique wasabi grower for high end Japanese restaurants in Australia. And even though it became clear the actual wasabi wouldn't ever develop in our soil or climate, I continued to persevere- because the leaves were so beautiful. And good for you. And you can eat them too.

Alas, I never did.

Year after year, part of me still hoped that I'd have a stellar harvest of juniper berries for when I distil my own gin or an endless supply of tomatillos for the most perfect, zesty salsa to eat all summer long. I'd daydream about fennel bulbs, and white eggplant and purple carrots and the feasts I'd create with veggies never seen round these parts.

Year after year, blueberry bushes have died. Not from neglect- in fact maybe from too much love and the simple fact that a blueberry cannot survive in alkaline soil. They need acid. And I simply could not add enough acid to the soil for the blueberry bush to thrive. I could not force it to grow in an environment where it was never going to be able to grow without intervention.

All the time spent tending to and researching blueberries could have been better spent growing things that are just as lovely, but in their own way. Things that will satisfy, nourish and satiate because they actually make their way to the dinner plate.

If I find a tomatillo plant and can pop it in- sure - I'm still going to give it a crack, but I'm not going to scour the internet for hours upon end, searching for tomatillo plants on reddit like I have before. At least I tell myself I'm not.....

It feels like a monumental shift. Is this giving up? Is it losing spirit? Is it resigning myself to the mediocre and mundane or is this the equivalent of growing older and more comfortable in my own skin?

Showing up as I actually am, as opposed to who I once dreamed (and sometimes still wish) I could be? Who do I actually want to be? What do I actually want to grow?

A recent high school reunion (that I didn't attend) brought up lot of these themes for me. And not only me, but a few other friends I discussed the occasion with. Were we attending? Mostly no. Why not? Weren't there friends we'd love to see? Mostly yes. In fact, some I miss dearly.

When we left school decades ago, who did we think we'd be by now? And more importantly -what version of ourselves is acceptable enough to turn up to the reunion?

What would we say when someone asked for a/s/l (an msn joke for those who are too young) or delved into what we've been doing for the last 20 years? What are you most and least proud of? Who could everyone else have turned out to be?

What constitutes success? In life, I have no idea. I guess I'm an occasional writer, an aspiring herbalist, a mum, a wife, a friend and somewhere deep in there - I'm Eliza.

It doesn't feel like any part of me is who I thought I should be- but who I thought I should be seems to be a long way from who I'm becoming.

I'm mid way through my late 30's with a career change and the decision to study. Again. For the third time. And I'm still not sure it's the right path for me.

I'm not the city dwelling food journalist I once thought I was on track to be. I'm (maybe) going to be making potions for people for a living. Helping them heal themselves even though I'm still flat out trying to figure out how to do that for myself.

I've somehow acquired a rather traditional version of a family -which I never thought I'd have. I'm married to a laudable man with two beautiful and spirited boys, two dogs, four chooks and a veggie patch, living back in the town I grew up in.

That's right. The one I couldn't wait to leave. The same one I drove away from at 110kms an hour, only stopping for petrol once I reached the border. The one I swore I'd never return to, for fear of becoming an elderly woman behind the counter in a small town. That same small town.

It's the same but I look different and I feel different. My body has changed and my mind has gone through various twists and turns. Some darkness and some light.

I'm less sure of things that I was somehow so very sure of; I'm definitely more philosophical. Although it's hard to describe and my bones ache with age, I don't really feel like I'm just a few years from 40. I somehow feel younger than I did many years ago.

One of the things I still have in common with 18 year old me is that I still yearn to grow veggies.

Whether it was on my balcony in a high rise positioned on the corner of a major arterial road (goodness I shudder to think about the fumes that covered my plants), in a leafy suburb near my favourite restaurants or back home at my parents, I've always known that my hands needed to feel the dirt. No one really taught me that- it's just something I gravitated toward. It's now 20 years that I've been plotting my plots and devising plans to get possums to poss off and leave my chillis and fruit alone.

This year success in the garden looks a little different. Maybe there is no success or failure. Maybe it just is what it is and I could learn a few things along the way.

I might grow some things and I might not grow some other things. The strawberries will be sweet and the blueberries will be bought from the shop and I don't have to justify otherwise.

I'll try to grow things that are not only good for us, but that I enjoy unapologetically. Unapologetically being key- a new concept for me.

It seems like maybe I've been a Japanese cucumber eating, ginger and turmeric loving, dutch cream devouring kinda girl all along. You know - plain and simple. I don't profess to be anything like the typical version of successful. Indeed, there is nothing wildly outstanding to note.

And maybe that feels like it was inevitable and like it's ok and absolutely not ok -all at once. Two or three things can be true at once?!

Anyway, that's the main garden beds sorted for Spring 24. They're packed out planted and looking pretty good at this stage.

I've just got to finish planting out around the corner. I've popped in some tropical raspberries, some medicinal gotu kola, a really rare purple mizuna that I got from a guy who knows a guy and some artichokes. Ohh the artichoke ravioli I'll be able to make with those babies!

Do you think I could get some Ashwaghanda to grow here? I'm not sure.

One thing I think I do know for sure is that there will be plenty of zucchinis and parsley to get me by.

As for the rest- I guess I'll still have to learn and figure it out. I suppose I'll just have to turn up as I am, whoever that may be, and see what Spring brings.