Comment: I’ve been digging up dirt over the past few weekends. I plan to dig up more over summer.
As global geo-politics heats up, I’ve impulsively turned to tending my wee patch of the world. The world is complex and messy. But I’m determined my quarter acre won’t be.
Apparently, this is an innate response: to retreat to what you can directly influence in a context of turbulence. It’s even got a name that sounds like a dystopic Netflix series: ‘refugia’.
I’m not a gardener. I don’t know the botanical names of anything. And last week, a late season gale whipped through Wellington toppling one of our standard rose bushes. It had been standing tall for at least a decade and snapped under the weight of its full bloom.
Hubbie and I had to teach ourselves to graft (via YouTube) in the middle of said gale. It may or may not survive. Maybe choosing my garden as the focus of my ‘refugia’ wasn’t a smart move.
There’s a lot to be learnt from gardening on the rocky side of an exposed Wellington hill. Humility for one. Just because you want something to grow there, doesn’t mean it will.
Patience is another, as we wait for the winds to drop and temperature to rise so things get a fighting chance of growing. But the pride of slicing my own lemon into a well-deserved post-weeding G&T is priceless.
Our garden is a bit like a metaphor for the whole of Wellington this year. Snapped at its prime, grafting itself back together and hopefully back in full bloom next season.
Coming back swinging
So when editor Jonathan Milne asked (actually kind of begged) for a reflection column that included my hopes for 2025, one had to be about Wellington. I’ve lived here for nearly three decades, two of those clinging to this hill. I feel a sort of physical pain for my city that has lost its swagger.
My first hope for 2025 is that the fine people of Wellington come back swinging. Yes, it has been grim for many, and more grimness is to come, but let’s ensure it’s not a self-fulfilling prophecy.
This coming year presents the opportunity of Wellingtonians to collectively regroup and determine what we want from our city and then to re-build towards it. Less reliance on public service jobs, more focus on our creative, brainy strengths, and a city that celebrates itself as inclusive and tolerant is my starter for ten.
Soul-shaking, leaky laughs
My second hope for 2025 is a personal one. Each year I pick two or three words that become my mantra for the year. I haven’t landed on all of them for 2025 yet, but one is going to be FUN as an essential to counterbalance the aforementioned GRIM.
I’ll think of it as my personal contribution to reclaiming Wellington’s swagger. I want to laugh more, real belly, soul shaking, eyes watering, leaky (IYKYK) laughs.
Paying what we’re worth
Finally, I wish that more measures to reduce gender and ethnic pay gaps are introduced by the Beehive and more organisations step up their commitment to reduce their pay gaps in 2025.
That everyone’s pay is determined by their value and skills and not their gender or ethnicity matters more than ever in a context where every dollar counts.
Just think, dear regular readers, when pay transparency legislation is a reality, I’ll have to find something else to rant about.
