finally...

The problem as viewed from Miss C's bedroom.

As I mentioned recently, I have what some might call a procrastination problem...I prefer to reconceptualise this issue as a gestational solutions-based paradigm. Which means, I simply can't stand making a decision for the sake of being able to say I have done. I'd rather take my time and allow the way of proceeding to present itself in the fullness of time. And when it comes pecolating down or bubbling up or however it arrives, it feels good and right and you can move forward knowing you've not wasted time or more frustratingly, money. This approach is more correctly called a discipline, as it requires much; it is especially well suited to matters of the heart...and gardening.

Since we took on Magic Garden, Husbando and I had loosely decided to work front to back; pruning, removing noxious weeds and improving the soil with mushroom compost and sugar cane mulch. Then, the plan was to leave it for a year and see what happened. To be truthful, finances didn't really allow for much else! But now that our self-imposed moratorium on decision making has passed, it feels like it's time to start slowly making some improvements. As always, the onus is there to avoid pointless, pretty, busy work and focus on things that actually need doing. Ah, the conundrums of modern life...what happens when you're aware of what needs to be done but can't decide on the resolution? Enter the gestational solutions-based paradigm and allow the universe to provide!

In the front yard of Magic Garden, there was a clearing that had been loosely paved by very old rock. Nothing too special, it was slippery and uneven and featured a horror show of a blackberry infestation. In my frugal state of mind, I decided that I could use that rock to make an attractive stone wall elsewhere and dug it all out. Of course, the stone wall got waylaid and now I have an even weedier mess than I started with. Oh, the joy of pointless pretty, busy work! However, now that I have repackaged high calibre indecisiveness as a gestational solution-based paradigm, I am proud to announce my course of action has been revealed...in the UK mag, Living etc.


The solution kindly provided by Living etc. May 2011

Using the hot pink rhodo as a central point, recycled sleepers will radiate out like spokes on a bike. These will act like stepping stones of sorts and also break up the expanse of gravel in between. Only question now is what type of gravel? I'm leaning towards crushed pink granite, which should work nicely when the rhodo is in bloom. And if it ever stops raining and we get this project sorted before we see the first blossoms, I'll be very pleased.

I'm a fall...

Every season has it's joys but up here mountainside, it can be hard to decide which season provides the most cause for celebration and delight. Summer is looked upon fondly when warmth seems too far away and spring is all open garden showmanship and the pizazz of petals. Winter is brisk walks and hot chocolate and well, autumn...autumn can feel like the most mixed blessing of all. There's a sadness as the air turns cold, especially this year as we seem to have bypassed the Indian summer of years gone by. I hope this is just a meteorological blip and not further climate change confusion; I love how crisp mornings burn off into long, hot afternoons, just perfect for finishing off those little jobs as the last of daylight savings ebbs away. But c'est la vie, not to be this year and so this post is a simple share and declare. I hope you enjoy the colours of Magic Garden in all it's autumnal finery.

The beautiful weeping maple that is the autumn's centrepiece in out front yard. I have enlarged the bed beneath it and will be planting daffodil bulbs this weekend...rain, hail, preferably shine.

Ugg boots have replaced thongs in my gardening footwear selection. FYI: they have been waterproofed.

Dusky red sedum, another gratefully received donation from my lovely next door neighbour.

Prehistoric mystery plant...the flowers (fruit?) look like they should be swaying beneath the sea...in an octopus's garden, in the shade.


Definitely fruit this time! This viburnum is just to the right of where my grand plan vegie patch will be situated. Now, if only I could lock off the design as I really want to have this patch up and running for next summer. Whilst I'm a big believer the positives of procrastination; I feel that a period of gestation allows the right path to come forward. Sometimes, though, you just have to make a decision or otherwise, life just keeps passing you by.

This is the type of countenance I strive for when gardening. She is tremendously tacky and definitely not what Husbando has in mind for the Magic Garden sculpture park! But for some reason, she and her smaller twin stay insitu.

The last of summer's sweetpeas...oh, the sadness.

So horrified right now...

As winter is fast setting in, it's getting easier to stick to my original, grand plan - which was to work from front to back; giving myself the time to learn the garden and get to know its nuances throughout the year. One thing I have learnt is just how sad the decimation of a Ginko tree can be and how thorough the remorse when you realise that you should have been seriously more proactive in halting the march of a very, hungry caterpillar*. On the left is the culprit and on the right is what my Ginko should look like...and I am so horrified right now...

...and this is what my Ginko does look like.

It is a hard image to publish because my shame is great and right now, my Ginko should be a towering column of gold. But in the interests of public education (ha!) and further self- flagellation, I post this as a reminder to self that there's no excuse for such a cavalier approach to the health of my garden. Ginkos are known as living fossils and some in China are over 50m tall, though mine would be pushing 5m at best. It think this small stature can be linked to a shaded, overcrowded position. I have recently snipped off a basal chi chi or lignotuber; I think the former sounds more fun which is ridiculous of me, as these shoots from the base of the plant indicates some degree of stress in the tree which is not in the least bit funny. Especially when your Ginko has barely survived the summer and now may not have absorbed enough chlorophyll to last through the winter.

You can see the leaves that have struggled valiantly against the invasion and it is not an over-exaggeration to say that perhaps only 5% of the leaves remained by the end of summer. Caterpillars have nibbled down to the stalk of each leaf, taking the fresh new growth but leaving what I imagine must be the tougher, less palatable stalks. Ginkos are meant to have extremely pest resistant bark, perhaps this makes the leaves especially tasty! For a long time, I dithered as to what could be the cause of this problem. I couldn't see any possum poo (and they do like to shit where they eat), I knew the cockatoos were busy in the Beech and I still I didn't do anything. And then one day I saw a lone caterpillar and then I did what I should have done all along, I marched up to the Nursery and started asking questions. I came home armed with a packet of Dipell, which is a bio-insecticide, meaning that is based on natural, low-toxic and organic ingredients. I am against pesticides in general and I'm not really sure how this differs (definitely a topic for me to research more fully) but I really can't take any more chances with my Ginko. It was probably too late to apply this season, but I've done it anyway and now all there is to do, is wait...and do it all over again next spring.

My first encounter with a Ginko in all its glory was at Frank Lloyd Wright's Oak Park Home and Studio in Chicago, Illinois. The windy city was freezing, though it was still officially autumn and in the courtyard between the two buildings was this magnificent specimen of a prehistoric plant. When plans leave paper and the steel wool trees of the model are left behind, I think it's fascinating to see what types of natural forms architects are prepared to commit to, in their own backyards. But who knows whether Lloyd Wright picked out a Ginko in particular or whether it happened to be in situ already, he chose to leave it they regardless and this can only be because there are such striking trees. With new leaf on board, there are a luminous green - I think it's best described as kermit green, not kelly or grass but the colour of Kermit the Frog's felted body. In the autumn, they become a true golden yellow and it's hard to decide when they look best. Their leaves are a unique fan shape that lend themselves to perfect fluttering and when the leaves decide to leave, it'll happen almost overnight. For my Ginko, that will probably take the best part of 5minutes.

*With apologies to Eric Carlye, whose book(s) I do very much like.

surprise me!

When I think bulbs, it used to be that daffodils, jonquils and freesias were the first to come to my mind. And gorgeous as they are, I realise now how little I knew of this amazing group, what a diverse array of colour and form they offer to our outdoor spaces. The lovelies above are part of the amazing autumn reveal that is taking place in Our Magic Garden right now and to be honest, I had no idea who or what they were. They both belong to the family of bulbs known as 'Nerine', the hot pink perfection on the right is 'Rosea' and the signal box red, 'Fothergillii Major'.

Rosea is the strappier of the two, more like curling ribbon and the Major, whilst not as delicate, is a short spiky hairdo of a bloom, a spunky offering that will brighten up any space. I'm not sure if it's because previous owners have moved dirt about willy-nilly but these bulbs are popping up in small patches throughout magic garden and I'm left to imagine what they might be like planted en masse, clashing red & pink together. Love it! Love it! Love it!

So tomorrow's plan with a sick toddler in tow, is to tie wool around each clump (preferrably colour coded with a name tag! thanks to my lovely neighbour for this suggestion!) and wait for them to die off completely both I can contemplate removal before the next spring's growing season begins. Even though, the dead folliage can be irksome and ugly, you simply must bear it out as it is a crucial part of the bulb's return the next year. By definition, a bulb is any plant that stores its entire life force in its fleshy, underground storage facility. As the leaves dies off, they are nourishing the plant below. If you can't live with the obviousness of this process, I suggest you plant your bulbs behind a lower form of hedge or barrier so when the brown hits town, it's neatly out of sight & out of mind... but I do suggest an attitude readjustment - this is the wonder of plants at their very finest!