When I first picked up a hoe I was often at a loss and wished there was somewhere handy to go for lessons in home gardening - like you can to TAFE for a lesson in decoupage or photography - a long time ago - before the www was invented and everything I wanted to know was handy on a PC near me.

I couldn't afford even the Yates gardening book in those days and there was never anyone handy when I needed to know why the pumpkin vine wouldn't set fruit or the lemon tree went black. The dozen or so magazines I might have had in the house didn't mention how deep to plant the spuds or what side was up on the bulbs a friend gave me. I knew Epsom Salts was good for roses but could never remember how much and what it was meant to cure - and why didn't it come with directions on the packet? Ever notice that magazines focus on plants that are flowering in a suburb the other side of the continent - never on the lavender that looks as if it's about to cark it on your patio or the zucchini that's got white stuff all over it in the vegie patch out the back.

And what do you say to the old dear next door who asks - with the slightest note of derision - did the seeds she’d given me come up that I planted in the garden under the front window a few months back - when she could see very well they hadn’t and would she believe ants? - do they eat wallflower seeds? - I was sure they ate something!

And then - just when you start to get the hang of things - because you never know it all - but you've learnt to make compost, understand what no-dig gardening means, discovered the wonders of manure and mulch and knew which vegies grew best in your particular part of the Australian landscape - drought - and the day in day out search of the horizon for cloud - the slow drip of water on plants that die anyway and the eating away of the spirit that is vital to your existence.

I look back and I wonder what made me persevere - but of course it was the satisfaction of cooking my own fresh vegetables, of walking out onto the dew to see buds opening, the fun of choosing new plants to order from a catalogue, seeing birds take a sip of nectar, showing my children where the frogs hide, inhaling the scent from a favourite rose, sitting in the shade of a tree I planted years before, wandering and dreaming in my very own piece of paradise and watching the rain bring it to life.

I would have missed out on so much if I hadn’t learnt how to grow a garden. When you walk outside and there is nothing there except concrete or traffic going past, do you dream of a path through shady places, garden beds and roses up a trellis, or fruit ripe and ready to pick - then be a gardener. And for anyone who is trying to grow one but is getting a little discouraged, I repeat advice already given by someone who had to be one or wouldn’t have known - don't forget to smell the roses along the way.