It's been a rather busy, and sad festive season mountainside and it feels like I've dropped more balls than I've had in the air, if such a thing is possible. New Year's resolutions abound and without going into all the boring details, paying more attention to this blog is one of them. Though I'm not overly interested in the moment the clock strikes twelve, I am very happy to celebrate the fact that I've persisted with Magic Garden, both on the ground and here, in the ether. I'm not going dwell on the disappointments of the last year, suffice to say, there won't be any green tomato chutney at our next Christmas feast... but these are some of the most recent highlights...

This time last year, I was in an extremely reflective mood. Our new baby had just come home from hospital after an ever-so-scary bout of viral meningitis and I was full of gratitude that we were home, that she was on the mend and so conscious of the lovely friends and family who supported us so wonderfully during that time. I love the idea of using plants and gardens to commemorate important events, whether they're joyous or solemn and when I was in hospital with Miss E, it bothered me greatly that I hadn't planted the magnolia I'd bought to mark her birth. Getting that plant in the ground was top of my to-do list, come the New Year. I'm just so pleased to present this image of her Magnolia's first flower! I love how the blossom is sheathed by its petals, how the pollen has fallen, that this plant has thrived in step with our little girl.

Our big girl is not quite as helpful in Magic Garden as I'd like; her weeding skills are yet to come to the fore! But she is very good at picking posies and strawberries...though it was a challenge to get this shot before she ate them all. Planting fruit and veggies that little people can help to harvest is so rewarding and the one of the best ways to get them interested in trying different types of produce. Who cares if they're not good at weeding as long as they eat healthily!

Two new crops I planted this year were garlic and broadbeans. Both required some discipline in the preparation stakes - that is I actually planted them when I was supposed to. I should have double the amount of garlic but I made a slight error in two of the patches, oversowing with a clever clover mix that I chose to let go...and go...until it flowered and I realised that Id created too much competition in the bed for the garlic to really succeed. Companion planting is all very well, but it does pay to actually follow the tried and tested suggestions, I guess, rather than make up your own...

And here are my broad beauties! Miss C and I planted the seeds together on one of the rare occasions that popping in seeds has held her interest. She wasn't blown away by the taste of the fresh beans, straight from the pod but I was and I have been busily cooking with them ever since. I think my fava favourite is to blend them up with lemon juice and a little salt and pepper, then serve as a bruschetta topping. Top with some fetta or goat's cheese marinated in olive oil and share. Bon appetit and happy new year.

Magnolias are another bloom that sing Spring, they anchor the season in the my memory and remind me particularly of the area I grew up. Trees as dominating as the houses whose front lawns they decorate and more than ample to play house in. Up here, you don't see them as frequently, when you do they're not usually as majestic. But the tree these came from is the one of the exceptions. It is easily as tall as my lovely neighbour's house and is a perfect example of a deciduous tree, in the perfect place. Facing north-east, it provides shady respite in the summer and maximises the sun's warmth in winter. In between, there are these drinkable blooms to enjoy; their shape reminds me of tea cups and crooked pinky fingers.

i do love to ponce about pretending to be a professional florist...

At the Gospel Hall, our old abode, Husbando had planted the Magnolia "Star Wars," as a tribute to his love of the George Lucas epic. It tickles me that somewhere out there, an earnest cultivator channelled his inner fanboy in order to give his labour of love such a nerdy name. I really hope that that is the truth and it wasn't a decision driven by the cynicism of the marketing machine. The realist in me knows the latter is most probably the truth, but the optimist is ever Pollyanna.

Magic Garden however, is all but magnolia free - another weird omission by Mrs Batty. I would so love to uncover her gardening notebooks, tucked behind the outdoor dunny. Perfect! Though it does feel inappropriate to imagine my genteel Mrs Batty making notes on the bog...I digress, swept away by toilet talk no less! When our new baby was born, I did plant one of the dwarf varieties, the evergreen "Little Gem." The leaves are a darker green, with an underside that is a russet - bronze colour. The flowers are a simple cream inverted bell and the whole ensemble seems hardier to me and somehow more suited to the Australian landscape. They are slow growing and happily, frost tolerant. In the year that ours has graced the prime position by the letter box, I really don't think it's grown significantly but apparently, it could reach between 4 and 8m high and be upto 5m wide. At this stage, it seems the baby has outperformed the tree...this is how it should be perhaps?

Two of my favourite ladies have returned home from holidays, each bearing the most delightful news...congratulations and hooray for everything, I say!

2 months. Almost 9 weeks. 62 days. You could be forgiven for thinking I'd hung up my hat and gone home. In a way, I have! But these are the cold hard facts and I'm putting them upfront because they're shocking and I'm embarrassed. The worse thing is that whilst I could give you an overview as to where the time has gone, there's no way I can account for 62 days. Sure, there's been a whirl of interstate travel punctuated by brutal windstorms and then unbelievable days of Indian Summer in Winter. But we're now two-thirds of the way through winter and to be honest, I'm panicking and often sit on the back steps feeling overwhelmed. But the scent of Spring is on the breeze and my broad beans have germinated. Blossoms are busting out all over, pierus is cascading and the rhodos and camellias are ready to dominate. And all over Magic Garden, pockets of daffodil and jonquil are erupting. Snowdrops are bobbing and grape hyacinths and purple crocus compete against Oprah Winfrey for a role in the reprise of the Colour Purple. Crocus is up in terms of sheer numbers but the hyacinths have a more intense hue. Who'll take the Oscar this time, I wonder?

Garden-wise, Winter has a reputation for being a period of dormancy; it's permissible to let things slide. But it is also one of the best times to make hard decisions about the shape of your garden. For me, the toughest choice I've made of late is to toss that old hat in the shot above. It's been a trusty part of my garden couture but there's only so many times you can repair the crown of straw hat before you start looking more jingle-jangle scarecrow than Flake lady. When trees are bare and legs are hairy, you can see the structure more clearly so it's a good time to identify plants which aren't working in the overall landscape and earmark them for transplantation when the weather warms. Plants which aren't thriving at all can simply be removed. In Magic Garden, I've nominated some rather spindly Azaleas which are for the tip and a big patch of seaside daisy which needs to be cut back before it completely engulfs the hebes. I've decided where I'll relocate the weeping Cherry if we ever renovate and I've finally started construction on a ring bed around the base of one of the biggest cherry trees. Next autumn, I'll pop in some of my many scattered daffodil bulbs and this time next year, share the joy.

During my meditations on the back step, I've been trying to come up with space for one of these divine chinese flowering quinces. The crimson cultivars of the superba are the perfect antidote to the fairy floss pink of the prunus which dominate at this time of year. Plus, I love the clash of pink and red together. The flowers emerge from a thicket of rather spiny stems which can reach heights of around 1.5 metres. Their spread is nearly 2 metres which makes me wonder if maybe I should aiming higher and be planning a hedge instead.

Magnolia x Loebneri...maybe...I think...could be Stellata?

And finally, I'm sure I've mentioned this before but despite the variety within Magic Garden, strangely magnolias aren't featured anywhere. I've planted a hybrid by the letterbox which goes by the name of Little Gem but I fear it's got a long way to go before it flowers. The specimen above is one I've come watch for each year when visiting some of my favourite people. You know who you are!

Neighbourhood Watch

These massive beauties make me laugh and until Jeff Koons hits town and shapes some of his iconic puppies out of them, my artistic aspirations will have to be satisfied by cake decorating; these particular blooms are the exact shade of Allen's 'Ripe Rasberries.' I almost feel like sending in a suggestion for the Women's Weekly Birthday Cake book! You can tell I'm still reeling from Miss C's birthday extravaganza...

At this time of year, every shade of Rhodo is ubiquitious and yet completely unique. They are seriously showy and have always struck me as azaleas on steroids. In my little bit of research, it seems this is precisely the case both in flower and stature; the main difference is one of size. This shot demonstartes it perfectly - you'll never see an azalea even vaguely comparing to a telegraph pole!

Additionally, most azalea blooms occur individually; that is one flower to one stem, whereas the rhodo's blossoms occur en masse. At Magic Garden, I have one pink specimen that is so heavy with flower, half the plant has bowed under the weight and there's a gaping hole between top and bottom. This has provided a neat window to an azalea behind but it does make me wonder about whether a rather severe prune is needed. Thanks to the good folk at wikipedia*, I've also learnt that whilst the word Rhododendron comes from the Greek: ροδον, rodon, meaning "rose", and δενδρον, dendron, meaning "tree", it cannot lay claim to its own alcoholic beverage. Next time you're in Korea, keep an eye out for Tugyonju, "azalea grape wine," and please, do post your thoughts.


As mentioned in my last post, the crab apple will always have a special place in my heart. I think they are just delightful, a tart intrusion upon the landscape and a more robust blossom than most. I am amazed that Magic Garden hasn't one hidden away and it saddens me greatly. Plus, OMG is so very well established, it's not like I can just pop one in willy-nilly - there's literally no room and even if I was to shoehorn one in, it wouldn't be fair as there's so much competition, it wouldn't thrive...which would disappoint me doubly. Until I can work out a more equitable arrangement for all, I am taking solance in my lovely neighbour's delighful specimen.



Positioned in the front yard, it is hidden behind a rather high hedge and you really only notice it from the side gate. Upon closer inspection, I discovered that its neighbour is this very fetching Magnolia, another favourite whose close proximity I had been lamenting. I love its languid branches and between these two beautifully compatible bedfellows, the canopy they create is a haven of cool shade. All that's missing is a hammock, a good book and me...maybe a houseboy on hand with a fresh pitcher of homemade lemonade.

*http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rhododendron

Spring has sprung?

Confession time: the first of September came and went and I missed it! I am quite happy to blame baby brain because I'd planned a celebratory 'Spring is sprung' post and I got to last Friday and realised I'd missed the boat. That's what happens when you're 30 weeks pregnant. I keep telling myself, just because the calendar says it is so, doesn't mean the weather is listening and up here mountainside, we are definitely a good month behind our warmer coastal cousins.* So despite the jaw dropping display of blossoms that are just everywhere, I am no closer to returning to my most beloved barefoot summer self. A painted toenail self, buoyant on warm waves of salt water and summer sun. A bikini figures prominently (this is how we know this is fantasy land!) and daylight savings is as permanent a fixture as my healthy, glowing tan.** What I have worked out is that now that I know the calendar has turned, mentally my brain is telling me it should be getting warmer...with the exception of last Wednesday, it's just NOT!

This particular day of spring's beginning is the divine Miss C's birthday. She is three and oh so fabulous, oh so hilarious. Amazing that between Husbando and I, we have managed to keep this tiny creature alive, that she's articulate and thriving, funny and kind. The next year is going to be massive for her, she's off to pre-school and perhaps more importantly, about to become a big sister. After her party today, she was a little miffed that no-one had brought her Pooh Bear a present, as it is his birthday too... who can blame them, it hadn't occurred to me either! But I think it's a telling aspect of her personality, she didn't let it get in the way of her opening her own presents and she didn't bring it up until we were getting ready to have a much needed nap. I like to think this reveals her good manners. When I suggested she'd just have to share her gifts with Pooh Bear, she took it in her stride and he wore her new tiara out for dinner tonight. So even if he is inanimate, she knows how to share and I'm taking this as proof Husbando and I are doing something right.

In the weeks before I gave birth to Miss C, our Magnolia had come into flower and much like myself, the Cherry Blossom was ripening. Up on Armstrong St, the neighbourhood's best Crab Apple, (malus floribunda, I can, in fact remember some things) was a confection of pink and white, the tartness of new green leaves slowly upstaging the sweet. It's one of my favourite things, the dominant, showy blossom giving way to the fresh leaves. Reminds me of a very sickly lolly, the toffee apple and I don't mean a real apple dipped in toffee!*** Part of the bittersweet beauty of life can be marked by memories of what plants are in bloom. The spring of my childhood was always synonymous with the massed Azaleas that spelt out Lane Cove on Epping Rd, until one of my Mum's oldest friends told me she couldn't see them without remembering when her father died. Not many remain now because of the Gore Hill freeway and the bus interchange. And the Lane Cove tunnel means that unless, you're driving to Lane Cove specifically, you'd not have reason to pass and recall the fact that once upon a time, during a spring time traffic jam, that particular part of the world was that little more lovely and that someone very much loved was lost but not forgotten.

*Please forgive, sometimes I can get a tad city mouse, country mouse...I keep it in check most of the time because I really do enjoy the best of both worlds.

**Not that I in any way advocate solariums or unsafe tanning practise. However, I have become a little more aware of Vitamin D of late, in terms of the important role it plays in helping the body process calcium. No matter how sunny and inviting the day might seem, living where I do, going out with bare skin exposed for 10 minutes in 10 degree C temperatures is going to feel like lunacy! Confession number two, I guess, I do fantasise about getting tan.

***Which, for the record, I've always found rather overrated. Mostly, I guess you usually find them at fetes or fruit and veg shops and the apples used always seem to be horrid and floury. Makes me wonder if a little tart bonanza or sundowner might shift the balance...note to self, get Mum to teach me the art of toffee making.