‘ My Little Cobber Beans’
April 25th was ANZAC Day and I planted broad beans. I had dug the bed early in the week with the plan to plant the crop on this special day of commemoration. I often choose a garden task to mark a special day.
As I was digging I thought of my Grandfather, Joseph Philip Roberts, a returned soldier from WWI. I wondered what he and all those lads who travelled to far-flung shores would make of us 100 years on?
How different our world is, but how much stays the same.
Early on Saturday, before I left for the dawn service at Queenscliffe, I opened the pack, removed the damaged beans and covered the good seed with water. I always soak my beans before I plant them. It speeds germination by softening the outer shell and fattening the seed.
The business of planting broad beans is timeless. Those who returned and took to gardening would certainly have been preparing beds and planting beans at this time each year. Every gardener knows the hard graft of gardening is therapy for the body, mind and soul. A quiet time toiling in the vegetable patch would have offered a curative escape to many returned soldiers, providing for the family table while calming troubled thoughts.
At this time, 100 years on from ANZAC, I understand the special qualities that are attached to the term ‘cobber’, a term only given to the best of mates. I have especially been thinking about my grandfather who chose to answer the call and defend his country, serving on the Western Front.
This ANZAC day I honored both my grandfather Joseph Philip and my father Ruben Charles, who served during WWII. I went to the dawn service, then marched in their memory. I also honored all those soldiers and civilians who have served and given so much that we might all have our freedom.
Joseph Philip Roberts was a gentle soul, he was frail and in his 80’s when I was just 10. Memories of ‘Pop’ are laced with a deep feeling of kindness, recollections of a person who had time and patience for children. I recall his happy welcome each time we visited, we would run into the room and jump on his lap to the call of, ‘How are you My Little Cobbers’?
My grandfather grew broad beans. What he would have called ‘good tucker’. And so I plant my ANZAC Broad Beans, my ‘Cobber Beans’, in memory of him and all those who have given in war.
As a symbol of hope and renewal I will sprinkle red poppy seed amongst them for the coming spring.
We Will Remember Them