Sunday, 13 October 2013

Trilliums

I am not going to Silvan again!
Along the main road to Silvan is Marie, a great gardener who sells rare and interesting bulbs and other plants. Enticingly, the sign beams Trillium and I’m hooked. There’re also tree peonies and clivias and lilies but I just go to the polyhouse with Trillium in pinks, whites and burgundy and I, well, I drool. Marie tells me she only got seed, years ago, of T. chloropetalum and T. ludovicianum and all of her plants are derived from hybrids of these; some are quite short at ~20cm, so seem more similar to T. ludovicianum, and with corresponding wonderful dark leaves or dappled; others are tall at ~45cm with paler leaves and these are the only ones with white flowers (and some pink, some burgundy); these seem close to T chloropetalum giganteum.
Wonderful woodland plants for some shade. Glorious but expensive.
Last year I started moving my pots of Trillium out from the shadehouse when they flowered, so that pollinating insects could fly about and I might have seed set (not all that successful, actually). This year a gardener said to me that wallabies shouldn’t eat them; now I’ve heard this before and I’m wary. But that’s easy; I pick out one with a muddy-coloured flower that I won’t miss and I leave it where the wallabies will roam as an indicator plant. So far: not a nibble. I might dare plant a few out – not my favourite ones! – in the shade of the white deciduous dogwoods. Imagine a drift in a few years…
Josie’s Joy, Rare bulbs & plants, www.stores.ebay.com.au/josies-joy

Sunday, 6 October 2013

Mediterranean Gardens - Louisa Jones at Melbourne’s Landscape Design Conference 2013

Melbourne’s landscape design conference this year comprised lectures by writer Anne Latreille (`Garden Voices’: Australian designers both past and present); American landscape architect Ken Smith (`Sky to Ground’); US tropical garden designer Raymond Jungles (water in the garden), Juan Grimm from Chile and Australian Paul Bangay (with photographer Simon Griffiths), Professor Toshio Watanabe (Japanese gardens), Aniket Bhagwat from India; – and I found particularly relevant (in our climate and with today’s enthusiasm for edible patches) – Canadian-born French-based Professor Louisa Jones’ Mediterranean Gardens with her fresh (to me) examination of these gardens born of use but not shorn of beauty.


Louisa Jones’ comparison of Mediterranean gardens to English was particularly instructive when we still see the hangover of the latter here, and yes, I am guilty of that, with my British-born parents. (Growing up in a large suburban garden of perennials and of perfumed shrubs not clipped into perfect cubes, I heard the comment that my mother’s garden was `very English’ when I was a teenager.  I had no idea what it meant then, of course, (and bristled when I overheard it called messy) but thought I did now. Jones’ clear views have helped me rethink completely – always a bonus, surely; and reassess my own garden, of course.


What is most unsettling is the odd notion that J, my partner of 29 years, as Australian as a white person can be, seems to like notions of English gardens (E) – as Jones expiates – where I, child of very British ones, seem to want elements of a Mediterranean garden (M). Could this be?


So, to some obvious differences: English-style gardens (E) are floral, mainly ornamental; Mediterranean-style gardens (M) are a mixture of use and beauty, containing plants that produce fruit, leaves and roots for consumption. (See above: red poppies under olive trees in spring with buttercups and Queen Anne ’s lace)
Jones argues that the latter (M) are a moving mosaic, too, with year-round interest for the 5 senses while English gardens peak in summer (or spring here, I surmise) and only the visual sense (E) is considered; that was certainly true the decade that roses began to lose their wonderful scent, and continued, I’d say, when people derided David Austin for bothering to breed his roses with their sensational fragrance. But I digress.
[Here J and I are roughly 1 all. I care about flowers but believe in spreading them out year-round; he cares about the orchard and he planned the edible patch that mainly I plant. I buy vegetable seedlings each spring and autumn and also try to grow some interesting veg from seed each year.




I care greatly about the visual but love to brush a herb for its fragrance and sensuous softness (it’s almost immaterial if it’s used in the cooking pot too, see below); we enjoy fresh tomatoes, sweet corn enormously; we love the flutter, splash and song of birds, so the garden is multi-sensual; but I’ll be honest, visual is by far the most important to me. I am the granddaughter of a painter, after all.]


Louisa Jones argues that Mediterranean gardens are herbal and botanical compared to horticultural (E) and immersive (M, below) rather than a series of pictures (E). They are site-specific (M) with local logic of place while English gardens are often fitting many places, she says, and, interestingly for me, open lawns edged by borders (E) – which I have (in part) – rather than gardens with layers and views (M) – where I long for vine-clad pergolas (M) in summer and trees to cast shade on the hottest days – where J prefers wide open spaces. Here, on this point, here, suddenly, J is English! Just a little bit, but way too much, I reckon, for our hot summers, which I dislike so intensely.


Here in Australia we don’t have that soft, moist light Jones speaks of (in English gardens), no, we have some days of 40°C and over, in some summers in our Mediterranean climate; we should garden accordingly. More shade, please.


Jones also spoke of Mediterranean gardens being strongly sculptural and an unusual notion, that `formal and wild are not opposites’. While her images of untamed, harshly wind-swept and salt-sprayed shrubs of lavender and rosemary were indeed looking clipped, (see wind-pruned Euphorbia arborea and Pittosporum tobira, below, at Cinque Terre (my image)), I don’t think the idea would translate either to blousy rain-soaked perennials and shrubs in the UK, nor to arid Australian gardens where many native plants, if left unclipped, become dreadfully straggly. It’s the wind of ocean or mountain that that is needed for this – or man’s sheers.


In Mediterranean Gardens, a Model for Good Living, Jones writes of house, garden and landscape:  the climate encourages open-air living during much of the year, and indoor and outdoor spaces intermingle: courtyards, balconies, gardens are extensions of the living areas inside. We are seeing this here in Melbourne more and more with our opening walls of fold-out glass panels and our al frescos. Climate management leads to refined living. Jones cites Jean Giono about Provencal dwellings: “…sunshine is the enemy! Their rooms are cool, their shadows soft” and Jones adds that a southern arbour with grape vine, wisteria or both, cools the house and links indoors and out (see second picture).


Climate management is important too, and water distribution, use of local stone, and summer shade with pergolas, trees, light in winter through a tracery of branches of deciduous shrubs and trees (such as the Judas tree in the last picture). How I long for some huge deciduous trees. (My mother grew wisteria on her north pergola to shade living room and kitchen in summer and deciduous clematis up the west wall to shade her bedroom similarly; a good plan.)


Arguably a Mediterranean garden is set apart too, by its clipped broadleaf (as well as fine leaf) evergreen shrubs along with that vital summer shade, as seen, above, in a little café in Venice. It seems pretty simple to get that Mediterranean-style garden but it has the right colour wall, of course, the bright light, the terracotta pots. Importantly, retractable shade. Spatial definition with those pots in nice proportion to the small area. Varying heights, clipped shrubs. Peaceful colours.
But it’s not easy to maintain.
What bothers me is that so many of my landscape design clients say to me that they will plant in pots and it will be easier. Say what!
No, it will need much more watering. Plants in the ground are much easier in Melbourne’s Mediterranean climate.
Jetlagged in Rome, I saw the waiters outside cafés watering all those pretty potted plants at 7am on a Sunday morning. On a hot day I am sure that they had to do it again at night and maybe in the middle of the day too. Do you want to be a slave to the look? Never have a weekend away?
Instead I am growing balls of a dwarf lilly pilly (Syzygium `Tiny Trev’) in pairs down my front path for structure and in pairs occasionally elsewhere too. (Four pots for accent have the same in protected shade but, if facing the heat, pots have been planted with agave or succulents…with reluctance.)

More importantly, we have terraced our hillside garden a bit (for my little lawn, straight out from the house veranda) as so many Italians have (like at the Cinque Terre, below), and created a harmonious setting for our outlook (view is probably too ambitious a word for our pretty vista across our little valley, of Eucalypt-topped hillside). I always wanted to walk straight out from the house to the garden and not have a deck. It turns out that this, too, is Mediterranean! 


So I make it J 2 and me 4 in the Mediterranean stakes; me 1 and J 3 in the English garden style; quite surprising. (Perhaps I can consider myself European-influenced?)  I wonder what he’ll say.

 

Tuesday, 1 October 2013

Peas, Leeks and Borecole


Winds above 100km/hour blew down the sugarsnap pea tripods overnight. So now they are tied up to the chook fence and growing beautifully amongst the leeks and the last of the flowering Tuscan kale – hopefully I can collect seed from them. With Red Russian kale just planted, maybe I’ll get some of the different kinds of kale (or borecole) to add to the collection here; lots of attractive foliage.
So I visit Chiltern Seeds and after a few clicks I’ve ordered various kale: `Dwarf green curled’, `Scarlet’ (tall, red-grey), `Redbor’ (purple, frilly), and `Winterbor’ (deep blue-green). It transpires that Tuscan kale is also named `Nero de Toscana’; how romantic!
My record with leeks isn’t great, but forgetting to water `em induces some serious flower heads. Is it an edible patch if it’s largely pleasing to the eye (or mine) and little is harvested?
Don’t worry, I will definitely eat the peas.

Thursday, 26 September 2013

Landscape Design Conference and the Australia Garden, Cranbourne



Another landscape design conference and unusually I was looking backwards as well as forwards with writer Anne Latreille’s `Garden Voices’ lecture covering important Australian designers both past and present. American landscape architect Ken Smith showed exciting projects (`Sky to Ground’) and US tropical garden designer Raymond Jungles spoke of water and nature in the garden and his admiration for Roberto Berle Marx. I particularly loved – and found relevant (in our climate and with today’s enthusiasm for edible patches) – Canadian-born French-based Professor Louisa Jones’ Mediterranean Gardens and will expand on this anon.


 It is exciting to look at Australians for inspiration. Usually it’s a ground-breaking Martha Schwartz (admittedly back in 1989, but wonderfully seared in the memory), or Topher Delaney, or the international images of landscape critic Tim Richardson that blow me away (his Avant Gardeners is my favourite book. Truly). (Ken’s were good to see. And I may have missed some important ones by Mr Jungles when my migraine got too awful on Sunday.)

Anne put up a mirror to Australia and I liked what she revealed; it certainly wasn’t the ridiculous Anglophile picture that Monty Don showed the world in about 80 seconds a while ago. Why didn’t he go to the gardens of Jim Sinatra and Phin Murphy, Talor Cullity Lethlean, Meg Ogden, Craig Burton, or to extend the concept to true landscapes, McGregor Coxall? Or the garden I’d most like to see in our entire land: that of Kate Cullity and her late partner Kevin Taylor in Adelaide. Or even just a boisterous bushy big boys boulder garden as I think of them (and it’s interesting how many women clients come to me and say I don’t want that style of garden at all and I don’t want to be told that’s what you want, love).


Friday’s pre-conference garden tour took us to some wonderful places: Burnley’s modern Green Roofs (did I really study horticulture there 24 years ago?, by HASSELL and MSLE led by Dr Nick Williams, John Rayner), Sorrento’s delightful Karkalla (Fiona Brockhoff) and Offshore (Jane Burke), the 10-acre misnamed (or so it seems to me) Musk Cottage (Rick Eckersley and E-GA); and the Australia Garden at the Royal Botanic Gardens, Cranbourne (Taylor Cullity Lethean with Paul Thompson - plant advice; it contains only Australian plants).
I have lightly touched on the latter before (see post 22/11/12) but will add a little more here; all pictures are from this garden.

I wonder if The Australia Garden, with its journey of water, and deep red soil and lunettes at the centre, was built for Australians (intentionally or not). Just as when I visited Uluru as a schoolgirl, and felt a visceral connection to the heart of our country, our land; so I feel deeply moved and reminded of my connection to country when I begin my journey in this garden; now that is an extraordinary achievement, and it happens every time. Is this spirituality? If so, to what, Mother Earth? Or is it notions of identity and rare connectedness? (It’s not dissimilar to my reaction to seeing Yothu Yindu on television the first time: I was seeing my own country really represented in this medium for the first time and it felt exhilarating, powerful, almost primal; I was shocked by my reaction as a young adult who knew no indigenous people and nothing of their culture. It felt absolutely wonderful.)
I found it fascinating to hear reflections of landscape architects from other countries; that this part is like a Japanese garden in that you cannot enter the centre of this garden but can only observe from the periphery (and that you suddenly observe a large part of it); and another (American), who found the vastness alienating (while it spoke to me of my country, of inclusiveness; the opposite). Again, the latter shows its effectiveness at representing the heart of our country so well.

And I wonder, do you need to experience rain after drought to appreciate my favourite part of the garden, and I think most hidden, little-known piece of genius. Maybe you need to be Australian.
Tell me you are not moved.


Go to the end of the rock pools.
Past the vast rust monument to King’s Canyon.
Wait where the water falls off
(don’t take the flow for granted, mate)
Every half hour the water stops
just for ten minutes
and gradually the flow over the square rock pools
slows to a drip or 2 and then ceases.
Wait. Not long.
Listen.
Water starts flowing again as a whisper, a trickle
then splashy, it rushes along, becoming ever more exciting, it’s rain!
flood after drought!
Crashing loudly off square rocks,
shouting, gushing and roaring toward you,
you sitting waiting at the end;
water rushes and pours over the bank;
a little miracle,
a crop saved, a farm back from the brink, a wild bird seeking a mate.

Tell me you are not moved.

Wednesday, 18 September 2013

New Memories


A bat squeak of an echo in time is how Audrey Niffenegger puts it in The Time Traveller’s Wife: when a whiff of information (or it could be a faint sound or a fragrance) resonates down a vortex in time and space and seemingly (in this case) beyond the grave too.
Mum was botanist, gardener, horticulturist, intellectual, teacher. (And she was the fungi lady of Emerald, too.)
I have been admiring the wattles blooming with their lemon rods or golden balls and remembered Mum showing me the local plants when I was a little girl; of the 6 of us, I think I was the most interested in plants, I loved my little garden, I basked in the rare attention, and I soaked up the names and lore: Dusty Miller (`See, it looks like a baker has wiped his floury hands here’), Trigger Plants (`See, this is how to trigger the flower, just like you are a visiting, pollinating insect, isn’t that fun’(see Stylidium 22/11/12)) and Prickly Moses (below), a wattle flowering right now, its lemon rods covering the shrub. Why it’s named that I don’t know, although it is prickly, of course. So many weekends were spent in the Dandenong’s that when J and I bought our property here with its little patch of bush it felt like I was coming home. I use the parochial names with great affection and sentiment, and the many plants we didn’t know she identified for us; we were fortunate to have a pocket botanist (who was, truth be told, larger than life). So I already had Mum in mind.
Yesterday my sister visited, bringing a fragrant posy from Mum’s old garden, pale gold freesias with a few azure blue grape hyacinths; these were Mum’s favourite flowers, she said. (A bat squeak of an echo; a newly formed memory.) Why didn’t I know this? But I was glad to be told; glad to hear that this complex woman, often seeking respect over liking from people (it seemed to me), was at heart either a country woman or a poet; I am not sure which.
 

Mum’s father was a painter and colour is important to many of us. Moreover this freesia is particularly pleasing: short, upright, softly old gold with little grey; and oh so fragrant.
I am sentimental at times and could instantly resolve to plant these very bulbs in a sunny spot come autumn – but I won’t – it wouldn’t pass the committee, and quite right.
Freesias, like watsonias, anomatheca, oxalis, sparaxis, chasmanthe, monbretia (Crocosmia), and gladioli are from hot, dry southern Africa or nearby (agapanthus) and they love south-eastern Australia too well, flinging about their seeds, rhizomes and bulbils with unwanted generosity. As a conservationist, there are some plants that J cannot abide in our garden (rather a lot, it sometimes seems; foxgloves and columbines are especially missed); they would embarrass him if a colleague visited, too.
Living adjacent to unspoilt bush brings both joy and responsibility. I get that.

Sunday, 15 September 2013

Winter Roses

Late winter and early spring bring hellebores and a trek to Post Office Farm Nursery near Woodend becomes my annual pilgrimage.

Also called winter roses, Helleborus are evergreen perennials which flower from early winter (Corsican) or August and they are still colourful now; Peter Leigh has bred wonderful strains which are world class. Some species have particularly handsome leaves and Helleborus foetidus can take fairly deep shade.

I love the single flowers but my camera only seems drawn to the new, neat doubles…and now I have one I can truly call double black; superb.
The nursery is open Sundays until the end of September.




Tuesday, 10 September 2013

Sudden Spring Forte


It’s a bit scary, frankly.
Spring has whooshed in with unaccustomed ferocity, more Mrs Bennet (a beauty, if briefly, in her youth, and can’t you see her putting on every jewel she owns and her mother’s too?) than seemingly-meek Jane Eyre (with barely a ribbon to adorn her).
Daffodils blown over in a flash. New plants flowering each day, some way too early, like tulips, while camellias still flashily bloom, wattle gleam with gold and flowering quince shine red, pink or white.
Australia has just had the warmest year on record, and the warmest winter, following the warmest summer.
I thought it was premature to anticipate another warm summer but no, we’ve barely seen out the first week of spring, and here are serious bushfires to Sydney’s west just 3 days after the country has elected as new Prime Minister a man who says he will repeal our carbon tax.
What will we tell our grandchildren?