Pseudo-Solcstice

 It’s winter, it’s cold at last, but it’s been balmy (with more records broken) until very recently, and not a hint of frost. Climate change? Maybe. I think so.

The string of warm weather in autumn was enjoyable but the effect on gardens was interesting. Some trees – a few - sported autumn leaves in May; many (most it seems) are doing it now, at last – in late June; it’s utterly bizarre. May and June also saw some strange spring blooms I can’t recall flowering at this time before, notably Viburnum plicatum.

It’s the shortest day, so I shall go out and look at this phenomenon with interest.

I see the usual suspects: flourishes of candy-pink Bergenia; camellias getting into full swing; grevilleas flowering like there’s no tomorrow.

But also: Elms with about a third of their foliage clinging on, chartreuse, tattered (strange); A few lilac tree dahlias flowers still, not all beaten by the few cool nights; loads of salvias; and the start of the colourful hellebores, perhaps a little early – by several weeks (in my garden), that’s all.

I’ve only gardened seriously for about 24 years – not long! – and odd spring flowers are one of the delights of a Melbourne winter (although a little less common up here in the foothills of the Dandenong Ranges). But these persistent – and very beautiful - autumn leaves on most of our deciduous trees are simply extraordinary. And frankly, a little scary.

Jill Weatherhead  is horticulturist, garden designer and principal at Jill Weatherhead  Garden Design who lives in the Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne, and works throughout Victoria (www.jillweatherheadgardendesign.com.au)

A Camellia Quest

A couple of weeks ago I was shopping for plants with a niece; a late birthday present quest augmented with elixir of coffee before and after for much-needed battle strength (shopping is not my forte); but gosh what fun it turned out to be. (Plants are much more interesting than, say, clothes or shoes, of course.)

One shrub she wanted was a camellia and as these have just started to bloom, it seemed a great time to choose one she really liked rather than rely on labels; this is advice I give my landscape design clients – about camellias. But she was flummoxed by the range of camellia flowers – which I thought had barely begun to bloom; do my clients feel thus, too? Should I be more forthright, and tell them always exactly what to get? (I usually advice certain plants, but sometimes ask them to choose their own camellias. If I recommend camellias, too, this would eliminate all the double camellias seem too fussy – to my eye. Taste is a very individual thing, and I want the client to love their garden.) When she was paralyzed by choice, I had a suggestion. When she was about 10, she gave me a plant of that wonderful old camellia you see in many gardens – because it’s so good - `Hiryu’ – deep pink, handsome, hardy, and a reasonably long bloomer (below). The pretty single flowers begin in autumn and continue into winter. I believe she’d bought it at a school fete, and while she didn’t remember this, it holds significant sentimental value to me. I suggested it, and we found a large one with a flower, which she liked.

As always, it makes me think about my own garden. My 20-year old Camellia `Hiryu’ was long ago chomped by wallabies but it’s tempting to get another. But what about the entrance to the garden, where I’ve perennials and roses, and just a few winter roses (Helleborus)? Serious winter colour sounds good. (I pride myself on year-round flowers so this needs some thought.) This garden area sings in yellows and blues, and I’m not fond of the `yellow’ camellias, especially the early champagne-coloured ones. But many of the white camellias are lovely, and my mother grew one called `Cornish Snow’ which – for her, in great soil in cool Emerald – flowered for 5 months; a gem. (Yellow-flowering shrubs sound more appropriate here but, while I love Forsythias and the scent of witch hazels, I prefer evergreens here. And camellias have oomph. I hope this doesn’t sound tacky but I enjoyed the moment last spring when loads of the iris where flowering along the front path and my sister was impressed; very nice. Double that in winter, surely.)

Even one camellia here might lift the winter garden. (Cyclamen coum, snowdrops and Crocus chrysanthus are wonderful but tiny; perhaps only I see their brave winter flowers.) Or two camellias: a sasanqua, my preference, for the early months, and a Camellia japonica (being white, in the shade of the Camellia         sasanqua) for later blooms. (The huge flowers of C. reticulata are not for me.)

We are so lucky in southern Victoria to have mild winters full of blooms; our summers are hot but our winters are jam-packed full of flowers (particularly in August); such a great climate for gardens.

Jill Weatherhead  is horticulturist, garden designer and principal at Jill Weatherhead  Garden Design who lives in the Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne, and works throughout Victoria (www.jillweatherheadgardendesign.com.au)

Silver forgives everything

Pots and plants accumulate by the back door – after the autumn garden shows, nursery visits, mail order deliveries and the occasional special gift. They get potted on, and watched over and watered until the garden beds are deemed moist enough for planting, and that day has arrived; all my gorgeous silver and raspberry bed plants will go in, even though the criteria expanded and deep plum and `Queen of the Night’ tulips are now part of the plan too. (Crimsons and pinks, however, have been ruthlessly jettisoned.)

But amongst my pots a red Salvia has thrust up a single raceme of hectic colour, very out-of-place (what was I thinking? – it’s not even Pineapple Sage (Salvia elegans)-with its evocative foliage scent – and unlabelled, so probably a cutting and who knows how tall it will grow), but – here’s the thing. By chance, it’s right up against the most silver and stunning of the wormwoods, Artemisia `Lambrook Silver’ and the combination looks great. I don’t want a whole garden of it, I don’t know if I’ll keep it even, but on these damp grey days it’s quite cheery. Maybe I can plant the duo (multiplied) and viciously prune the red Salvia so that it only flowers in winter. There’s a thought.

Jill Weatherhead  is horticulturist, garden designer and principal at Jill Weatherhead  Garden Design who lives in the Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne, and works throughout Victoria (Now www.jillweatherheadgardendesign.com.au, no longer www.jillweatherhead.com.au)

A visit to an inspiring edible garden

The new winter issue of Country Life Yarra Valley and Ranges has come out today and with it an article I have written about an organic garden in Selby – very near where I live – belonging to an amazing herbalist called Suzie; and beautiful stonework has been created by her daughter Holly Carter-Madej (of Holly C Stonework).

Suzie Carter-Madej is an inspiring woman, passionate about healthy food, who gathers food from her own organic patch. We both collect seeds from our own vegetable plants for planting later, but otherwise I found I had a lot to learn from this wise woman.

My favourite lesson, I think, was discovering the delicious tea that could be made from boiling water poured over 2 sprigs of lemon verbena (Aloysia triphylla) in the teapot. No tea bags, no packaging, no carbon miles. A delicious simplicity (representing so much more, of course) that I can only barely try to replicate in my life.

Jill Weatherhead is horticulturist, garden designer and principal at Jill Weatherhead  Garden Design who lives in the Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne (Now www.jillweatherheadgardendesign.com.au, no longer www.jillweatherhead.com.au)

Last days of Autumn

Sternbergia greuteriana is a tiny golden bulb that flowered in the dying days of autumn, overshadowed by petite, but relatively tall, Narcissus viridiflora, green and redolent, I thought, of foxes (but how could I know?). Winter has begun and the first Cyclamen coum has opened, cerise, dazzling. More pictures to follow.

 Jill Weatherhead  is horticulturist, garden designer and principal at Jill Weatherhead  Garden Design who lives in the Dandenong Ranges east of Melbourne (Now www.jillweatherheadgardendesign.com.au, no longer www.jillweatherhead.com.au)