Wattle, Blossom and Old Friends

I'm fascinated by the way plants respond to the changing seasons and welcome the flowering of different species each year as if they are old friends. Winter's last few gloomy weeks in this area are brightened by numerous golden wattles and blossoms of both fruiting and ornamental trees. Bees buzz around the blooms as they search for nectar and pollen, and pollinate my fruit crops as they go. Sometimes the sun breaks through, for a moment or a day, and glistens on the raindrops that linger on the flower petals.

Especially colourful this year are a few wattles that seeded in the mulch around the vegie garden and were subsequently potted and planted into the garden. Seeds from a tree that hangs over the fence make the most of conditions in my garden and dozens of tiny trees come up every year. Mostly I pull them up, treating them as weeds because I don't have space to plant many, but I'm glad I have found room for three of them to grow. It did seem a waste not to use more of them. Then I thought of an old friend who lives on a farm out of town. She does have space, lots of space. Now many of the seedlings are dug up and sent to a new home. As well, last year some mysterious little plants grew in a pot of soil that I'd left in the vegie garden. When they had developed a little, I identified them as callistemons, also from a tree next door. They too have found a new home on the farm.

The other day my friend brought me a beautiful bunch of camellias from an old tree on the farm. Life would be less colourful, less interesting, without our old friends.

      

'My Mum Collects Plants'

When my daughter Stacy was a litle girl (maybe about 8 years  old), she showed off her collections one day to a visitor: shells, gemstones, rocks, feathers, Barbie dolls. The visitor asked her whether her mummy (me) collected anything. Stace replied, 'My mum collects plants and I think she'd die without them'. I was astonished at the time that she had even thought about how I spent my time in the garden, much less come to such a conclusion. I was reminded of this incident today.

I have never been a plant collector in the way we often think of people who go out of their way, travelling to far-flung locations, or paying others to do so, to obtain rare and unusual specimens, but I do get excited about buying and planting new plants. Today, encouraged by a mild, sunny day, I visited a nursery in a nearby town, came home with a car loaded with plants and spent a happy couple of hours getting them in the ground.

The whole experience was a pleasure, from browsing around a very well set up nursery, to having a simple lunch in the garden cafe, to choosing what to buy, then coming home and deciding where to plant the new babies. At the present stage of its development, my garden is full, with no room for more trees or shrubs. However, replacement of the edging around some beds has extended their perimeters and given me some planting-around-the-edges opportunities.

The new babies are delphiniums, ericas, pansies, sedums and kangaroo paws. The delphiniums, which are worth their the effort for their gorgeous colour, will stay in pots on the deck because snails love them and this is a very snaily garden. The other plants have been placed around the edges of existing beds and will give the beds a lift when they grow a bit. The ericas and kangaroo paws, as well as looking good and being very hardy, will provide more food for nectar-feeding birds, which already frequent the garden regularly.

I don't know that I would die without new plants, but obtaining, planting and nurturing them is certainly one of life's great pleasures.


  

Life and Death in the Rainforest

Visits to Noosa never seem complete until we have walked the coastal track to Hell's Gates, or at least part of it. Spectacular ocean views on one side and tangled forest on the other make it a popular walk, or run, and the track can become quite crowded. On our recent holiday we noticed a track heading inland, labelled 'Palm Grove Circuit' and decided to explore this one. Wow! What an experience.

There was no one else there; that's right, not a single other person did we meet up with on the whole circuit. The track wound through an area of lush rainforest, with some of the tallest and oldest trees I've seen. 

Groves of palms reached for the sky, their canopies a lacy network far above us. The silence was a gift. The combined aromas of rotting vegetation and living trees were strangely heady. The soft humidity seemed to be the comforting breath of the forest. All combined to create an atmosphere of primeval fecundity, a glimpse of a world before humans. 

Most of all it was a huge ecosystem reminder of the relationship between life and death. There were strangler figs slowly killing their host trees. In any gap where larger plants had died or fallen and sunlight could penetrate the canopy, numerous seedlings had germinated and were competing for nutrients and light. The dead trees and fallen leaves, as they decompose, are a source of nutrients for new life. A rotting stump might support mosses and seedling trees. Even living tree trunks support new plants that have taken root in any available niche.

Our gardens are smaller scale examples of the way that death and decomposition drive new life. We use many once-living plant materials as mulch and fertiliser. Added to these are multitudes of dead bodies of insects, birds, frogs, lizards, spiders, micro-organisms and other (mostly unseen) denizens of the soil. As they decompose, they release nutrients that feed our chosen plants. Without the process of decomposition vegetated ecosystems would die under the weight of their own detritus.

Similarly (though without pushing the analogy too far), how often do we hear of the death of a grandparent or great-grandparent at about the same time as the birth of a new baby? It is all part of the cycle of life and death, in the rainforest, in our gardens, in our lives.

Pineapples Don't Grow On Trees

On our first trip to northern Australia many years ago, my attention was caught by the numerous palm-like trees that seemed to be bearing crops of pineapples. I remember lazily observing them through the car window and wondering about them. I didn't think pineapples grew on trees, but had never been to the subtropics before and was willing to believe there was an arboreal variety that we ignorant southerners were unaware of.

It didn't take long to find out the 'pineapple trees' were actually pandanus, or screw pines. There are about 700 species of pandanus and the one most likely to be seen in northern Australian coastal areas is Pandanus tectorious or beach screw pine. Though the hard fruits are nothing like pineapples (in anything but appearance), they can be ground to make a flour, which was used by Aboriginals. Birds too enjoy the starchy flesh. Often, the ground below a pandanus is strewn with torn-apart fruit sections, showing where birds have feasted. The foliage was traditionally used to make woven baskets and for thatching. 

Pandanus trees make interesting architectural features in northern gardens. Clusters of long strappy leaves wave in the wind at the tops of multi-branching trunks supported by stilt roots. The large fruits turn from green to bright yellow and glow amidst the palm-like foliage. An added feature is the attractive texture of the trunks, especially in young trees. We admired some with raised circular bands in different shades of brown, which I was compelled to stroke. 

Painting Pictures, Telling Stories

Before we moved into town my previous garden was large. Every autumn and spring I would add another patch, another bed, some trees here and there, more fruit trees, windbreaks or wildlife corridors, despite having promised myself in the previous summer that I would not do so. Water was a big constraining factor because we relied on our dams for garden water and during dry summers the usable water in the dams dropped alarmingly. In some years there was only mud in the bottoms until the long-awaited autumn (or winter) rains began. During all that time (about 23 years), I don't remember giving much thought to how the added beds/patches merged into each other, complemented or contrasted with each other. I was too focused on getting the job done and working out how to keep the new plants watered, mulched and maintained. So, it was more by good luck than by good planning that the garden actually did come together as a pleasing whole. Maybe there was more subconscious planning going on than I was aware of.

My present garden is on a smaller scale and, while I still think it makes a lot of sense to develop a patch or bed at a time, I have been much more aware of how each area impacts on the others. I have consciously created pleasing (to me) compositions of plants and garden art. From just about anywhere I stand I can look around and see how the plants and ornamental aspects paint a picture or tell a story.

Decorative elements add so much to the enjoyment of the garden, but place them with care so they look as if they belong there, add to the picture or tell a story. They need not cost a fortune. Most of mine have been requested as birthday presents and many are made from re-used materials, either by local craftspeople or by Rodney. The fence art, for example, was a joint inspiration. I wanted to make a feature on that patch of fence as it is next to a sewer inspection pipe that cannot be planted over. Rodney painted the fence in the background yellow and used leftover roofing material to form hill shapes. A local metalworker made the bird from old agricultural equipment. It has proven to be a talking point admired by everyone who comes here, and I love how it casts shadows on the fence when the setting sun shines on it, so it appears to be two birds, and reflects in the pond after rainfall has filled it.

The combination of natural elements such as rocks with grasses is particularly pleasing. The rocks in the photo below were obtained as part of a barter deal. A local farmer who had the heavy moving equipment and access to lots of rocks was happy to exchange them for some business cards.

I hope today's garden photos brighten up a gloomy winter's day.

What On Earth is a Pomelo?

Ten years ago we moved from a country property to a town block and I was keen to explore ideas for gardening in a smaller area. Multi-grafted fruit trees seemed like a great space-saving strategy and one of the trees I bought was a four-grafted citrus: orange, pomelo, lime and mandarin (I think). The latter has never produced any fruit so I'm sure I've lost it. The orange is very productive and the fruit is beautifully sweet. The lime is less productive, but worth having. The pomelo is super vigorous and productive and would take over completely if I didn't keep snipping branches off. The photo below shows the unusual shape of the fruit.

Unfortunately, we don't like the fruit. It is stringy, full of pips, thick-skinned, and I had written it off as bland in taste. Neither the limes nor the oranges have thick skins so I know it is not caused by environmental conditions. This year, faced with another bumper harvest of unwelcome pomelos. I decided to juice some. They are quite difficult to extract juice from because of the thick skin and stringy flesh, but, once you have enough to make a decent drink, it  is not at all bad. A bit like a cross between an orange and a grapefruit, with a twist of lemon. It's not my favourite juice, but it is free, fresh, quite drinkable once you make the effort, and I'm sure it is loaded with vitamin C.

Can one of the hundreds (600+) of readers of this blog, please tell me what the particular attraction is? Do you love pomelos? Why this blog when I think most of my other posts are much more interesting?

Gardening With Freebies and Leftovers

It is amazing what you can achieve in a garden for little cost. Most of my gardens have incorporated freebies, leftovers and found items. When we lived on 40 rocky acres I used lots of free rocks, tree stumps and branches from around the property. In the development of our town garden I used leftover building material as edging for some garden beds, large rocks that we bartered professional skills for and a truckload of mulch that we bartered a slab of beer for. Many plants were grown from cuttings given to us by friends. Even most of the garden art we did purchase (as birthday gifts) was made from re-used agricultural implements and other leftover bits and pieces.

 A recent garden addition stays with the freebies and leftovers theme. In a disused corner was an ugly pile of road screenings left over from a previous job. Fortunately, we had had the foresight to place heavy-duty black plastic under the screenings to prevent weed growth. I had long wanted to transform this corner into something more attractive; recently, the urge, the energy and the inspiration all coincided to produce what you see in the photo below. The screenings were roughly piled into a more pleasing shape. Old pots filled with a mixture of some screenings, gravelly sand and garden soil excavated from another project (a story for another day) had succulent cuttings planted in them. The large 'pot' at the back is the lid of a rusted out barbecue. The pots were then inserted into holes scraped in the screenings. The protruding black plastic was tucked under some relocated rocks and a length of branch that had fallen from one of the redgums. The decorative bird houses you see were made by Rodney some time ago and had not been used. The lattice at the back and the red roofing iron were also leftovers.

I do plan to spend a little bit on some decorative elements that will amuse my granddaughters and to put down some weed mat between the new bed and an existing one to eliminate a fiddly mowing job and give said granddaughters a sitting spot. For the present, though, I have transformed an ugly pile of stones into an interesting garden bed for no cost at all. It only took me a couple of hours and will look much better once the succulents take root and spread to conceal the pots and screenings. Yay! Creating something from 'nothing' is one of the joys of the garden.