Kindergarten

I think our garden is child-friendly. There are pools and creeks, fire-baths and cob-ovens and plants of all sorts galore, but there's never been an incident. It's the kind of garden where it doesn't matter if children go off-track, or break a branch, or pick a handful of flowers or pee on anything at all. I think of  a roaming herd of children as a natural force from which the garden will both suffer and benefit in much the same way as it would from a flock of migratory Guinea pigs. Certainly our paths are better-defined now. My group was intrigued by almost everything. We made garlands of hop-vines and wore them on our heads. We found kereru feathers and tucked them behind our ears. We baked damper in the fire under the hot-bath. We clambered into the lower branches of the Chatham Island akeake. We picnicked on woolen blankets amongst the alkanet and under the plum trees. We sweltered in the Southland weather.
It was a lovely visit.