Self-expression Sydney continues, with bonus kitchen sink gardens

Rosellas snack on eucalyptus blossom on the roadside

The story of Susan Street Anandale and its treasures continues, as I spent the last week here, staying with my brother John.

 

So the question was, 'Why is this street beautiful?" 

One answer is, because its nourishing. For the bird, for starters.

Each doorstep-scape is different from any other.  Yet the street is consistent in being engaging,  invested in by each resident. An interesting, fully-functioning family.

The fluffy pink eucalyptus blossoms make me happy in the most Cecilia-ish way possible. They co-ordinate with everything I own, everything I am. 

People love things that look like them. We just do.

Yet imagine a whole street of frilly Cecilia stuff,  a whole neigbourhood. I remember once eating a whole bag of fairy floss, and thats how sick it would make me. 

I'd stop being special too, being a surprise for somebody else to come upon.

Now, I would never have this geometric, black and white, metal-ridden decor at my doorstep, with construction-vehicle Yellow. The pot plant just doesn't DO enough to earn its rent - so chaste.
Yet I am so delighted to see this tableaux in my street,  a stylish little world in one meter square.

Peeking down into the basement kitchen sink, the yellow and chrome theme continues - look at the cleaning cloth.
I love people who make their own world, like this.

 

Look at the purposeful nature of this West-facing, hot afternoon garden. 

They didn't just do what was convenient, they did what works.  

Instead of buying a heap of different plants, with characters that cancel each other out, they restricted themselves to classical roses, varied the color and height, and will become experts at making roses happy, productive and pest-free.

They didn't pretend that everything will be fine with the pots sitting on the tiles, or on mosquito-breeding saucers. They lifted them up so the water doesn't pool, so that the breeze dispels the heat from the floor, and the soil life and roots can stay cool, transpiring and happy.

They didn't buy the cheapest pots, or fashionable tapering pots, with their plant-unfriendly narrowness.  They invested in something they can use for decades. They made the effort to re-pot each plant, not this 'hanging petticoat' plastic-pot-inside-real-pot business. 

Bigger pots would have been better, but they don't yet know this, and the roses might just be fine. Its a sunny, often-passed, well-attended to spot. 

Life-giving success often looks beautiful.

"I Boris. I from Russia.
What you want here?".
Burly cat guards veranda.

Now we are back to the house at the end of the street, the most edible of them all, and my favourite. Look at the springy organic wrought iron - little knobs individually coaxed into being, like onion flowers meandering their way out of the soil.

 

The aztec look of this little garden is a deft representation of...

 

...the bloke who make it.

Meet Mario the craftsman, from Paraguay, who came out to say Hello.

And then invited us in for tea.

The story of what I found at Mario's house will be for next time, but for now, here is the kitchen sink. 

Beautiful, as expected.

Every beautiful balcony garden has a beautiful kitchen sink, Its the rule that wrote itself.

If you want a lovely permaculture balcony, the sink is where it starts and ends up, so give yourself permission to put your beauty-creating efforts there. 

The garden will follow.