I think I have realised what is wrong with fake grass.
This morning at 7.15am on the banks of the Yarra River in the most beautiful eucalypt landscape ever my dear friend’s ashes were scattered. The moon was its fullest on the west and the sun was rising like always over there on the east. Oh and lets not forget the most larrikin call of the sulphur crested cockatoos.
Two months ago I was on the underground tube in London. On the train I was convinced I would use fake grass in my back garden upon my return to my home in Australia.
I got off the underground and headed home to Australia.
I arrived in time to hang out with Mirabai on her balcony prior to her passing.
Her balcony is amazing – it sits in Eucalyptus heaven.
The landscape has NOT a drip of formality. Its sun bleached, dry and visually wild. Sharp contrast to my past years in manicured grass-green London.
If Mirabai was a train station she would have been called Healing Central. As a result I have been very lucky to be involved in some beautiful ceremonies since her passing one month ago. I am not normally one for such tribal carry on – but I get it.
It’s great to feel the earth, play with the ground, swim in the rivers and get naked every once in a while.
Driving home in the car this morning I decided that fake grass has merit but it’s not right for my home.
When I launch myself out of the car and walk to the front door – i want crunch, an occasional puddle and gravel residue leading across my Italian terrazzo porch.
I think I need to enter the house and walk straight out again to my backyard where I can feel the earth. Fake grass has been scrapped .
So here I am now at the age of 40 giving major importance to the ground-foot connection. Jeez I think had forgotten about all that earth connection stuff –
I am sure in my early 20s I use to have that high on my design agenda?
Hey you …thanks for reminding me …amongst many many other things…