In which inept but enthusiastic efforts are made to grow food in the suburbs of Sydney with a minimum of collateral damage. As Gramsci says, “Pessimism of the intellect, optimism of the will”. Or in the words of Buzz Lightyear: “That’s not flying. That’s falling with style.”
Where does my backyard end… at the bottom of the garden? In Berowra Creek, or out in the Hawkesbury estuary? The bats, the birds and the bees don’t pay much attention to property boundaries, so neither will I!