If you want to eat then don't bleat

because your food has to come from somewhere. 

Yes, I have stolen that idea from the headline in this morning's paper. It just said "eat or bleat" but I knew what the article would be about. There are people complaining because their nice new housing development houses are next door to the farms which put their food on the table. They don't like the noise from the irrigation systems, or the shots from the bird scarers. They are complaining about the dust in summer and the fertiliser use in spring. 

That these places actually supply the food they are eating, about twenty percent of our national food supply, is apparently of no consequence. The farmers and market gardeners need to go somewhere else.

The first garden I can remember properly is the one the Senior Cat had in the small rural township where I was born. There had been no garden in the "place on the hill" but as soon as we moved into the township proper the Senior Cat set about developing a garden. Everyone else had a garden too. It was how people got most of their fresh fruit and vegetables. That is what the "back garden" was for and that was what was expected of you. 

In all the years which followed the Senior Cat had a garden in all but one place. He tried there but was defeated by the salinity of the only available water supply. Rainwater was too limited and too precious to use for anything but drinking. The water from the tap came from a far distant reservoir. It came in an old "inch" pipe which ran across the top of the ground. In summer it could be too hot to put your hands under the "cold" tap. Plants simply died when watered in this way. The Senior Cat buried his disappointment and studied for his Latin III exam instead.

But we had gardens in other places. Moving the school sheep into our back garden during a bushfire did rather a lot of damage but the Senior Cat just sighed and set about repairing the beds. (We had to keep spraying the sheep with water to keep them safe while the fire went through the paddock (field) across the road outside the school.)

When he returned to the city he used every available space. It took time because the garden had not been cared for at the first house. At the second there had never been a garden. It had just been a vacant block of land overgrown with weeds. The garden he developed there was so productive we were giving food away to the neighbours on a regular basis. The Senior Cat was an "organic" gardener and the garden we left behind was still in good shape when I left. I am told the new owners have ripped it all out. It was apparently "too much work". Yes, gardens are work.

If you do not want to do the work yourself though there are people who will do it. If you live in one of those new housing developments and all you want is a patch of "lawn" and a few shrubs that is up to you. I know more than one young person who has more than that. They were encouraged by the Senior Cat and, after the usual late teen exams and the like, they are building their own gardens. They have no problems with the farmers and market gardeners working nearby, indeed are on good terms with them. They understand the need for the fields of this and that and the tomatoes in the glass houses.

I am not sure where the complainers think food is going to come from. They remind me of the people who buy houses near the airport, who use planes to fly interstate and overseas, and then complain about the noise.