May 8, 2024

Indoor gardening


I’ve never claimed to be any great shakes at gardening, preferring to leave that to my partner who definitely has green thumbs. And fingers. Inside it’s a different matter and that’s my domain. The house is filled with plants with several grown from cuttings taken from their parent. Other than ensuring they’re watered once a week – twice in summer for the ones that look like they need it – and have a feed during the warmer months, the plants all survive (and thrive) on healthy neglect.


And boy do they thrive! True, some of those cuttings currently growing up are destined as prizes in a forthcoming fundraiser for the Greens, while others were recently donated to a local market that was also a fundraising event, but still no room in the house is without a plant or ten. Several need a good haircut at the moment but I’m reluctant to do this until they’ve stopped flowering, and with the summer we’ve had, followed by the exceptionally mild autumn we’re still enjoying, the little darlings continue to throw out blooms. I haven’t the heart to trim them just yet. These plants certainly have gone bonkers though – and cuttings are destined for several friends who’ve put up their hands to receive them when ready.


Having just spent the best part of an hour watering my houseplants, and doing the minimal maintenance they only ever receive, I can honestly say I wouldn’t be without them. A house without plants is like a house without books: rather empty and sterile in my opinion. There were always plants in the house where I grew up so I suppose I’ve inherited the idea from my mum that it’s normal to have them inside. It's often been said a house that has plants is a healthy house. They provide a calming effect on mood. If that’s correct then our house must be bursting with an abundance of good health as well as emotional balance, and that cannot be bad in these increasingly uncertain and fractious times all around the planet.

 


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By Anne Layton-Bennett July 22, 2026
Attracting the interest of a publisher for this story of a community’s campaign to stop what would have been ‘the world’s fourth largest pulp mill’ being built was never going to be easy, but hoping the first of two 3-minute Literary Speed Dating pitch sessions will prompt at least one of the two publishers to request the full MSS. And preferably both of them. These twice-yearly Perfect Pitch sessions are offered to members of the Australian Society of Authors, and this is the first time I’ve taken advantage of them – mainly because of the need to have a completed MSS before doing so. Three minutes isn’t long to excite the interest of a publisher who is after stories in very specific genres, and who therefore needs to believe your MSS is worth investing the time needed to read it in full. I’m pretty certain I’ve excited the necessary interest, but given Jane will hear the pitches of many more optimistic and talented writers after my morning session today, there are no guarantees. That initial interest might well wane as the day goes on if other writers have written stories that sound far more intriguing – and marketable. One can never forget that aspect of publishing these days: will the book sell. I believe my story will – certainly in Tasmania it definitely will – but a wider Australian readership? That’s an unknown even if my mentor is convinced of the story’s universal appeal.  I’d certainly like to think I’ve caught the zeitgeist wave given the current widespread community unrest over AI data centres, that’s already prompting similar serious opposition, and for many of the same reasons the Tamar Valley’s community opposed the pulp mill. Environmental degradation, threats to public health, water usage – and water shortages in an era of escalating climate extremes – and the constant, relentless noise factor that’s associated with data centres, and AI data centres in particular. I’m crossing my fingers that the second pitch session will be equally positive, and that I could strike it lucky with both publishers requesting to see the full MSS. But I won’t get ahead of myself. I’ll just be keeping all fingers and toes firmly crossed for the next seven days.
Magni
By Anne Layton-Bennett June 14, 2026
It’s taken far too many months for this marvellous model to grace the dedicated desk space in my office. When Fiona comes to visit next she will be very surprised, and hopefully gratified, that her amazing creative talent is finally on display. We’ve known each other for a very long time, and during the insanely busy time when I was helping to run the flower farm, working part-time in a school library, doing a spot of journalism on the side, and fighting the proposed pulp mill that is the subject of the manuscript I’m hoping to get published, Fiona cleaned my house each week. There’s only so much a person can do after all, and it has to be said cleaning our house during those manic years was fairly low down on the list of my priorities. But Fiona is a woman of many talents and she certainly possesses one that I so don’t have: sewing and dressmaking. So over the years she’s also made a few garments based on the pattern of a favourite garment that I was particularly fond of, and she’s also done some clothing alterations for both of us. My skills with needles and thread are limited to sewing on buttons, and taking up hems on John’s too-long pairs of jeans. Anything else is beyond me. But this fabulous model is the pièce de résistance – along with the beautiful crocheted knee warmer she gave me last year. This was when winter was approaching and so determined was I to finish writing the book, I decided to get out of bed at the insane hour of 5am and get in a solid hour’s writing in before dog walking and the demands of the day took over. Fiona was also one of many Tasmanians who needed to be circumspect about her opinion of the pulp mill. It was a project that polarised people, including families and friendships. She was one of several who passed on snippets of useful information, but on the basis of anonymity so it couldn’t be sheeted home to her.  Needless to say Fiona will be one of those whose contribution will be acknowledged – when this book is finally accepted by a publisher.
By Anne Layton-Bennett June 8, 2026
Early lambing season a sign of changing seasons? Or economic reality?

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