How I became a gardener

I hated gardening as a child. The weeding especially — if we were sent out to help on a Saturday morning I would moan. Why would I want to weed when I had better things to do?

But I could eat my weight in fresh peas straight from the pod. And blackberry picking — I would have done that all day. So perhaps it was never the garden I hated. Perhaps it was just the obligation.

Somewhere between podding peas as a kid and growing them myself as an adult, I became a gardener without quite noticing. That was 26 years ago. I have not stopped since.

The First Property — Inherited Soil and a Sleeping Baby

Our first property, bought 26 years ago, had been gardened for years before we arrived. The soil was dark and alive. There were apple trees and a big old apricot. I was home with our first child and found myself pottering out into the garden while she slept.

Having my own garden meant the decisions were entirely mine. I think that is where my love of veggie gardening actually began — not in the garden of my childhood, but in that quiet inherited patch with a baby asleep inside and the whole afternoon ahead of me.

Good soil is a gift you do not fully appreciate until you have to build it yourself. I know that now.

A Fresh Build, Raspberries, and a Few Years Without a Garden

The next house was a fresh build — raw soil, no history, a small veggie patch squeezed in. I always had to have raspberry canes. That has been true on every property we have owned. Some things are non-negotiable.

Then came a few years renting while we designed and built the house we are in now. No garden. I noticed the absence of it more than I expected to. You do not always know what something gives you until it is gone.

The Sandy Block — Building Soil from Nothing

We moved into our current Tasmanian property 14 years ago. The soil was extremely sandy — no structure, no nutrients, no life. You could dig it and not find a single worm. Coming from that first property with its rich inherited earth, it was a shock.

I did not try to grow vegetables straight away. I started with what the soil needed first — fruit trees, chickens, raspberries (always raspberries), and one raised bed made from secondhand corrugated tin. The focus for those early years was simply building the soil. Compost, mulch, chicken manure, time.

This is the part nobody tells you about gardening from scratch: the most important work is invisible. It happens underground, slowly, over seasons. You are not growing vegetables yet. You are growing the conditions in which vegetables will one day thrive.

The worms arrived eventually. That was the moment I knew it was working.

The Front Yard Decision — and the Husband's Reaction

Our front yard is north facing — the best sun on the property. It was always going to become the main vegetable garden. The only question was how.

The first version was a semi-permanent structure built into the front yard. Matt was not super stoked about how much room it took up, or how it looked — but we negotiated. As long as there is enough room to turn the boat, I'm good.

After a few years the timber around the beds rotted. Which meant starting again. Which, as it turned out, was an opportunity.

The front yard is only 20 by 15 metres, which includes the driveway and a grassed area. The veggie garden, chook yard and berry enclosure are approximately 6 by 12 metres. I wanted the space to feel bigger than it is — a sense of rooms within the garden rather than one flat open area. So we designed something more permanent: 2.2 metre mesh and timber walls to grow food up, two large brick raised beds sitting 60 centimetres high, a berry cage, and a timber structure painted in deep charcoal that ties the whole space together.

I'm the TA and primary designer and dreamer of the space. Matt is the builder who works out how to actually construct it.

The Garden Now — What We Are Growing

This is our second summer with the completed garden and I am genuinely proud of what we have built. The charcoal timber against the green growth in Tasmanian light is exactly what I had in mind. The chicken coop, painted to match, is accessed through the veggie garden and has plants growing around it.

Right now in the garden:

• Zucchini and spaghetti squash — the spaghetti squash is a first for us this season
• Tomatoes — always tomatoes; non-negotiable
• Cucumber, capsicum, chilli, beans
• Spinach, spring onions, cabbage, kale, chicory
• Dill, sage, pot marigold — herbs and flowers mixed through the vegetables
• Strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, grapes
• Espalier pears, plums, apricot, peach and stepover apples along the borders
• Lavender edging for the bees and for picking
• A new cutting garden — roses and dahlias, currently battling the wind

I am increasingly interested in polyculture and regenerative gardening — growing things together the way they want to grow, building the soil rather than depleting it, saving my own seed. It is a different way of thinking about a garden. Less control, more observation.

The Back Garden — Retaining Walls and What Is Still to Come

The back of our property drops about three metres over five to seven metres. Three years ago we built a retaining wall and fence to start making it usable. Last year we built another — digging the footings by hand, mixing the concrete ourselves, Matt pouring while I ran the mixer. It was a ten hour day. We do most things ourselves.

The back is shaded in winter but catches the sun well in other seasons. Now that we have the flat space we need, the plan is a greenhouse built from old windows salvaged and repurposed, and a patio. Neither is finished yet. The garden is always partly a work in progress. I have made peace with that.

The kids have left home now. The garden is getting my full attention for the first time in years. I have plans — and time, finally, to carry them out properly.

Matt designed and built these doors for the berry house.

The Garden and the Label — The Same Idea

At the end of January 2026 we closed our shop after 22 years. We are building something new now — a small clothing label made from natural fibres, designed to last for years rather than seasons, for women who have stopped chasing trends and started choosing well.

The garden and the label are the same philosophy. Things made from natural materials, built to last, not asking you to keep up with anything. You tend them, you invest in them, and they give back generously over time.

We are documenting both on Instagram and Facebook as they take shape. Follow along at @chillelifestyle — it is all part of the same slow, deliberate thing.