Translation: back garden. And a title better reflecting the rear end of the house I grew up in. My parents have thumbs as green as a leprechaun's and a garden abounding in flowers and veg. A haven for earthworms, and predatory birds alike. Both thriving under the till and hoe my parents put to the dirt. I might have forgotten just what a knack Reno and Judy have for gardening had I only stuck to visits when the yard was snowed over.I have just got in from a neighbourhood run, caught in the rain in the last few miles - a refreshing and welcome soaking on a muggy afternoon. Reno is tinkering in the garage, while a documentary on orangutans (he immediately points out their resemblance to mine) airs on an old 14-inch screen in the background. Judy is multitasking, as usual - managing to pause, pose and smile for the camera before returning to her primary task - nailing dinner. She is keeping an eye and nose on a dish of im-quarun - my favourite Maltese food - baking and crisping just in time for me to gobble up in the fashion of the cookie monster met with a dish of hot gooey biscuits.
Its a pretty relaxing scene, I took a snap, then took it all in over a good long stretch of the legs.
