The garden summary 2026

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Vegetable Garden 2026

I am officially naming 2026 as the year of the Coriander Forest.

In the past, I have tried, with minimal success, to grow coriander. I’ve gotten a couple of measly plants, which generally grew and went to seed before I could even use them. Well, not this year. Because this year, we got a coriander forest.

When the first tiny plants sprang up, I was confused. It looked like coriander… but how? So when it got a little bigger I had a taste and realised… it was coriander. So… I nurtured them. Because I love coriander, so I want as much as humanly possible.

And that’s what I got… a whole damn forest.

To the detriment of the other plants, in the end.

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Hunting mosquitos

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fly swot

There’s something about this time of year, and despite our house having flywire over almost every window (which is not necessarily common here), the mosquitos love to sneak in, and prepare for their late-night dance party.

I’ll be safely tucked into bed, about to doze off, and there’s that tell-tale, maddening, high-pitched whining right next to my ear. And I can be extremely close to sleep, but that noise will yank me out, have my heart racing and me slapping myself for dear life, in a fraction of a second. And of course it is all for nothing, because that damn mosquito is gone.

Having a kid now, I notice them more. Because although they don’t seem to wake him up in the night, it doesn’t mean they don’t ravage him. So, if I see those tell-tale red bumps…

It’s time to go mosquito hunting.

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You know you’re in Austria not Australia when… you can leave your bench looking like this overnight.

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dirty dishes

Growing up in Oz, I have obviously had different rules drilled into me. It wasn’t CLOSE THE DOOR and it obviously wasn’t TURN OFF THE LIGHT. It was… wipe up those crumbs! Put that food away! And for God’s sake don’t leave a half-eaten sandwich in your school bag!

To this day I still carry a reflex that impels me to wipe all surfaces down after meals. To tidy any crumbs away, empty the compost bin, and make sure no sticky sauce bottles are left out. I mean, it’s a good habit to have. But in Austria, if you don’t do this…

NOTHING HAPPENS.

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What an awful year of summer sickness

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sick in bed

We dove into winter #2 with Sam at daycare knowing what we were in for, but hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as year #1. Now, apart from the bout of tonsillitis and RSV, we did ok. There were sniffles and coughs and the occasional one-off vomit but it could have been a lot worse.

I headed off to Australia and hubby had his time in India… and then it was April – the weather was warming up and we thought the worst was over.

But apparently it was not.

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You know you’re in Austria not Australia when… you bang on the wall and almost break your hand

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curtains

I think for some it’s a natural reaction to bang on a wall when there’s a loud or annoying noise on the other side. Like if your neighbour in the flat next door is playing loud music, or a toddler is crashing around above.

Now, in Australia it’s very satisfying to do this. Because walls are hollow, made of plasterboard, when you knock or bang on them, you are rewarded with a hearty sound.

But what happens when you do it in Austria… on walls made of concrete?

Ouch.

Just the sound of your cry of pain as you remember that the walls are, in fact, made of concrete.

You know you’re in Austria and not Australia when… you have a parking clock

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Now here is a concept I had never seen before I came to Austria!

Austria clock parking

If you’re parking in any of the towns, especially smaller ones, carrying a parking clock is absolutely essential. Some places are marked with areas that are free for a certain amount of time – like 30 minutes or one hour. And to track how long your car has been there, you need to set your parking clock.

You set it for the time you arrived, so when the parking inspector moseys by, they will only issue a fine if it’s an hour (or whatever time is allowed) past the time your clock is marked at.

Once you get the hang of it, it’s great. Other times, you forget, and get a fine. Or you confuse 12 and 24 hour time, and get a fine. But so far I’ve only been unlucky once!

Our latest adventure – two bonding weeks

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India

Last year, I took four weeks off parenting to fly back to Australia alone. This year, guess what? I did it again. Now, that might seem like a lot for some people, but it’s also something that comes with the territory of moving to another country.

The distance, the cost, the jetlag… it all adds up. Two weeks would be tiring, but doable. Three is better. Four is… well absolutely fantastic with a trace of indulgence.

So, I’d been encouraging hubby to take a break of his own. Not because it was owed – because I have a right to go see my family – but because he can. And since we’re not keen on taking a small child to India, off he went on his own.

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