The tradition here is that the 'gaalic' has to be planted before Anzac day or it won't grow, so as Good Friday dawned George and I headed in convoy to the triangular paddock to get the job done. I always think there is something a tiny bit exciting about driving in convoy in the very early morning.
As George made one last run with the rotavator, I had my breath taken away by the cool, fresh wonder of the dawn. A million candy floss cobwebs were tangled in the long wet grass, with a couple of perfectly formed webs, complete with proud spider. The dew sparkled like diamond dust from the silver threads as the sun sneaked over my mountain and brought the world to life.
Later that day we headed over to a neighbours house to join her for a traditional Good Friday brunch. The usual Aussie tradition of 'bring a plate' meant a wide variety of high quality food and champagne was on offer from 11.30am finishing up around 2.30pm with coffee and hot cross buns, made on the spot. I'm getting to know quite a number of people here now and every social occasion seems to generate another party invite. Shame I'm not gong to be here for some of them.
I didn't attend any religious service over Easter but I like to think that I was worshipping in my own way while kneeling in the soil with a kuckaburra choir singing and the sun warm on my back as I planted, by hand, a quarter of an acre of garlic on the idyllic river 'flats'. Does that make me a bit of theist? Either way, I'm not sure the Catholic Church would approve but it left me feeling at peace with the world.
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