How’s the serenity?

We've moved. After five years of paved courtyards and truck fumes we've moved to a suburb where the magpies carol and great carpets of grass stretch down the street. It’s only three kilometres from our old house, but it feels like a world away.

The people here look similar to those in the old neighbourhood but they do strange things. They drive sedately; they tend gardens and mow lawns; they stroll around the block. If they stop you in the street, they’re looking for a chat, not your change. They look at trucks with curiosity - a truck moving down our street is either lost or collecting the rubbish.

And they play in their backyards. They hit balls for their dogs and cook wildebeests on barbecues as big as grand pianos. They have swings and slides, and lawn and lemon trees.

In our old house we didn’t have a blade of grass, our barbecue was the size of a frisbee and our lemon tree grew in a pot. If you tripped in the backyard you ran the risk of putting your head through the fence. Now, when I venture into the backyard I take a water bottle and compass in case I get lost.

I’m not gloating. I don’t own the wonderful piece of real estate we currently call home, but without a doubt our decision to move here has been a tonic for the whole family.

Our girls have some space to stretch their limbs and explore but more importantly, Kate and I have some peace of mind. If the girls wander out the front gate we don’t panic that they’ll be bowled over by a speeding bus, or monstered by a desperado.

In the past, I used to enjoy the inner city’s hard edges and grittiness, but with kids, everything changes. Your risk meter becomes as sensitive as mouse whiskers. All of a sudden you totally understand the appeal of the suburbs.

What was once a daggy and dated way of life reveals itself as a community of people simply trying to grow their kids in a bit of space and comparative safety. And that’s exactly what you want now. You crave to be part of a community just like that.

Darcey is four. I can’t believe she’s four. She runs and tumbles about in the backyard without skinning her knees. She rides her bike down the street to greet me after work. The magpies sing outside her bedroom. She notes that they’re the same birds that sing at Grandma’s place in the country.

Grace is 16 months old. Exploring the backyard is her favourite way to spend a day. Last week I found her grazing on bugs and small twigs. She was in heaven. Her outdoor expeditions have another benefit too – they leave her bone tired. At 6.30pm she’s looking for bed. We don’t hear a peep from her until 7am the next day.

But most importantly, our backyard has a distinct advantage on our old one. It has a shed I can stand up in. My last shed had enough space to store our pathetic barbecue and a few tins of paint. Kate has a picture of me huddled in it one evening when I got caught in a sudden downpour. She took it through the window of the laundry between her laughing fits. I look like the hunchback of Notre Dame.

But my new shed, well that’s a different story altogether. Nobody laughs at me in the new shed. My new shed has enough room for 20 six burner  barbecues. But that’s not why I love it so much. I love it because it houses my new Victa Mower.

My new Victa Mower is dark green – just like my old man’s. When I fired it up for the first time to tidy up the savannah out the front, I realised with a thrill that I was about to participate in an ancient suburban ritual.

As luck would have it, my neighbour was mowing his lawn as well. He’s got two young boys so he knows what it’s like to be set upon the moment he walks through the door. We smiled broadly and gave each other the thumbs up. For the next half hour we would be free to grunt and sweat like two men in charge of dangerous and difficult duties.

There are no nappies out here, only swirling blades and the heady mix of four stroke fumes and butchered grass. And of course, the glorious roaring of two motor mowers.

For the first time in my life I truly understand the immortal words of The Castle’s Darryl Kerrigan: “How’s the Serenity?”

By Bruce Atherton

 

This article was first published in Australian Family Magazine, May 2006.