The distance between 2 points...

Spring is making its way up the hill and our Magic Garden is just starting to put on a show - I promise my next entry will be all blossom shots, total garden porn in this part of the world. My right-hand-next-door-neighbour told me yesterday that she considers one of my trees to be the finest blossom tree in the neighbourhood and although all I did was buy the house that had the tree, I am still hugging these words close to my chest!

On both sides, we have the most lovely neighbours who are in different ways, rather expert gardeners. This is honestly rather intimidating, which explains I guess why the comment above has gone straight to the pool room. The shot above however, is on the left-hand-next-door neighbours side and it shows the one gaping hole in a fairly private boundary. On the right, there is the amazing white Camellia you can see from the kitchen window and on the left, a jumble of Rhodo, Camellia and some other horribly invasive green thing which shan't last the summer. The hammock you can see behind the Cotoneastor highlights the problem; it looks like such a delighful place to relax but it looks right into the main area off the back of our house. And to be honest, whilst I am thrilled with both sets of neighbours, I don't want to feel like we have to constantly acknowledge each other, or worse, not use the space when the other is enjoying their own backyard. After much deliberation, it was concluded that a hedge is the only solution...

Happily, this necessitated a trip to one of my favourite places, Windy Hill Nursery on the outskirts of Bathurst. I'm not sure whether I am kidding myself or not but for buying in bulk, I feel sure that Windy Hill is the most reasonably priced nursery in the area. Hopefully, their prices do actually offset the amount of petrol used to get there! My main criteria for the hedging plants was that they should be fast growing and not be Photinas or Pittosporum. I would have loved to go with a row of Gardenia but there are temperamental little darlings and I really need more vigour in this instance. So I have chosen, the Escallonia Macrantha Rubra, chiefly because it states it is "fast growing" and is "frost tolerant". Also, I like the fact that the scale of the foliage and flower heads are quite different to the plants on other side.

Apparently, the Escallonia should reach heights between 3 and 4 metres. This seems laughable now, considering just how tiny they are. But at $12 bucks a pop, more instant gratification would have been vastly more expensive and when I do break the buying embargo, I need to be on my best behaviour. Plus, if I am going to lash out, I want it to be on a statement piece that I really can't live without...whether it's plants or fashion, the same principles of investment buying apply!

We have a long way to go...

Afternoon Delight

Yesterday, I spent a very pleasant afternoon pottering around Magic Garden and in the process, picked this lovely bunch of daffodils. Apologies, as the shot is truly appalling but they are definately brightening up a dark corner of my living room and I just wanted to share!

Part of the reason I am so chuffed, is that it was the day after an annual knees up, hosted by some very dear friends and if I wasn't with child, I'd have almost certainly been feeling very sorry for myself indeed. Instead, I was tucked up in bed at a very civillised hour and awoke to enjoy a child free day, tidying up all sorts of loose ends and feeling very self congratulatory in the sunshine...until I discovered that insult has been added to the injury my citrus has already suffered. The dreaded Citrus Wasp has taken up residence below the graft and I've been so consumed by frost guilt that I hadn't looked closely enough to notice this horror. Oh Joseph Conrad, the horror! After I'd scraped off the gall, I could clearly see the heart of darkness and then to add insult to injury, the wasp larvae poked its head out. And for some reason, I couldn't quite bring myself to yank the bastard out. What was I worried about? Hurting it? Jesus, toughen up, lady gardener!

But to end on a bright note, a big hullo to my 3 followers out there in the ether...you've remade my day, thank you X k

Views from my kitchen...

Our Magic Garden is a riot of rhododendrons, azaleas and all 3 species of camellia. Just outside my kitchen window, I have been watching some sasanquas and eagerly awaiting the buds to pop into bloom. Here is the very first! A lovely cream with rippling, blushes of pink. Its bush is somewhat straggly and though my probation continues, I am itching for all danger of frost to clear so I can get into shaping it better. These plants are right on the fence line and have the potential to be rather magnificent screening elements. However, the bush behind the letter F is in fabulous shape and it amazes how different 2 plants in such close proximity can be... why is it so?

A visit from Jack

Image courtesy of Gardening Australia*

When my family first moved back from Indonesia, it was mid-winter and freezing. I started year one and was introduced to the mythical character of Jack Frost. After especially cold nights, our teacher would exclaim that Jack Frost had been out again. Jakarta had been all about balmy humidity broken up by ferocious thunder storms so I had absolutely no concept of frost and it took me a rather long time to work out who and what Jack Frost was. As the new girl at school, I was too self-conscious to ask! As far as inhibitions go, I am so glad I've gotten over the the fear of asking the seemingly silly question. A quick check with all things Wiki, reveals that as you'd imagine, Jack Frost hails from English/Germanic folklore and is said to personify the crisp, still conditions that can devastate one's garden.

Having been fluttering about in Maui over the last couple of weeks - it's hard not to act like a tropical butterfly in that part of the world, this frost flashback was prompted by the very rude (though not unexpected) conditions that awaited upon our return. The worst frost in 60years, the headlines trumpeted! And though I got out about, hose in hand watering off the worst of it, sadly, I have a horrible casualty on my hands. The Clementine my sister gave my daughter for her first Christmas is downright decimated and I'm not sure I can pull it back from the edge.




In looking into the situation, I've realised that I've already done the wrong thing: my first instinct was to give the plant a light prune. However, the very act of pruning stimulates new growth, so I really should have waited until Jack had well and truly left the building so as not to jeopardise that process. Additionally, I've now removed any protection the dead wood was affording the fledgling green shoots beneath. Curse my itch to fix! I really should be placed on pruning probation. But prune in haste, repent with the weather! Hopefully spring will bring some healthy green nodes and I can make it up to the patient with a new pot and some potent new soil. In the meantime, the Clementine has been placed in the most sheltered spot I can find and I am trying to tempt her with cocktails of worm juice.

For the amateur meterologists out there (professionals, please feel free to weigh in!), frosts occur when the temperature drops below zero and the sky is clear of clouds. If there is no wind, any water in the air will expand and become ice on contact with cold surfaces. On a celluar level what this means is that whole structures rupture and so the plant itself struggles to survive, especially if the conditions are repeated and some idiot has given you an unflattering haircut.

I can't even c'est la vie myself out of this one.

*My frost photos really sucked!

Blousy Beauty

Recriminations aside, I never meant to leave it this long...AGAIN! But life is what happens when your busy making other plans, especially when life includes a sick child, another on the way and much longed for rain. Not that I'm complaining on the weather front but after a good week's worth, a general malaise did set in. However, in an all too brief sunny spot, I took this very happy snap. This fragrant lady does look alittle tired and the buds are yet to open, but I can't believe that I still have blooms coming into flower. True, this particular rose garden is in full sun and I have been religiously deadheading and pruning after each flourish but their tenacity amazes me. As with almost all roses, I have no idea of her name and make an earnest vow to find it out. Until then I christen the old dame my 'Rose of the Day.'

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.

oh my dahlink !

Still on the subject of bulbs, I came across these dahlias out the front of a small fruit & veg store in Kirrabilli last week. This is one of my favourite ways to purchase cut flowers - straight from the markets & almost always cheap as chips, you can buy an armful without breaking the bank. There is something so very decadent about a massive bouquet that you've bought yourself. Only gathering up a bunch fresh from your own garden is more satisfying and Magic Garden has certainly provided quite the bounty since we moved in. Early on, I collected up the most gorgeous posy of peonies* for friends with a new baby and throughout the summer, roses have been a constant presence in the house. But alas dahlias haven't just popped up in some sun drenched corner & seeing the above made me think of all the flowers I'd like to have at my disposal. Hydrangeas are another, more gardenias, vibrant sedums & butterfly plants. Ah well, if wishes were horses...the embargo continues.

For more infomation on all types of bulbs, check out:

http://urbanext.illinois.edu/bulbs/bulbbasics.html

*note to self: please research peony care pronto.