How does your garden grow?

A woman looked over my gate this week and asked, ‘How do you get your flowers to grow?’ I looked with some despair at the cloudy masses of forget-me-nots and couldn’t think of an answer. ‘They just do,’ I said lamely, in the end. Which is true. I didn’t plant the forget-me-nots. They just come up every spring. So do a lot of other things which I inherited when I moved in nearly 40 years ago. ‘What about those,’ she asked, pointing at some aquilegias. I planted aquilegia seeds – probably decades ago – and they continue to come up every year. Often in less than convenient places. Fox gloves come up randomly, as does Solomon’s Seal, feverfew, borage, parsley, lemon balm, wind flowers, marigolds, geums … She told me that she’d tried to grow some daffodils in a pot but they got knocked over by the wind. Gardening’s like that, I reassured her, a roller coaster of success and failure.

While I have planted roses, herbs, fruit trees, vegetables, pansies, sweet peas, geraniums, raspberries, blackcurrants, and so on, many plants are self-sown or grown from cuttings I’ve been given. Others have spread of their own accord. Or contrarily given up the ghost.

Many large trees in the garden are self-sown and are usually indigenous such as several kōwhai, ake ake, pseudopanax, pittosporum and cabbage trees – or were planted by previous owners, such as the beech, karo, a very old hebe and a myrtle. The ake ake has an interesting trunk.

Although not a great fan of succulents, several years ago I bought some cute little ones at a market. Now they are in various parts of the garden, completely hidden by cottage garden plants at the moment except for some in pots. I’m encouraging some self-seeded elder plants to grow so I can make elderflower cordial.

Dips in the gardening roller coaster include plants which do not thrive or suddenly sicken. This has happened recently to a bay tree in a pot which was thriving until a few weeks ago when its leaves began to turn brown. It was badly affected by scale. I trimmed it back and administered what first aid I could. Now it’s just a matter of wait and see. A lime tree in a pot lost all its leaves, but there are new ones appearing, so I’m hoping it will recover. My lemon tree gets sooty mould from time to time, and once a more serious disease from which it has recovered. I had to remove all the affected fruit in the serious case, and pruned the tree in both cases to let air flow through. I’m still mourning a beautiful rose, a Westerland, which died last year.

A bit of a softie about what gets to grow, I often can’t bear to pull things out (except convolvulus). Children passing by might enjoy the dandelion clocks on the front berm. This week a gardener on tv was advocating for weeds in the garden. While not exactly a weed (whatever a ‘weed’ is) my artichoke is a bit of a thug in the garden, overshadowing the vegetables and rhubarb, but it is pleasing to look at. Today I noticed the first globes appearing.

I spend a lot of time just looking at the garden. Once the forget-me-nots have finished, other plants will re-emerge to take their place.

The much missed Westerland rose.

A real in-the-garden Xmas tree

The Sunday sky beyond is about to turn pink with a dramatic sunset and, to the east, a rainbow appeared.

The feijoa tree is covered in flowers this year. As we put the Christmas tree (exotic pine) inside the house on Sunday, we looked out and said, ‘There’s a real one!’* It is native to South America and is of the myrtle species, so related to the pōhutukawa aka the Aotearoa/New Zealand Christmas tree (beautiful pictures and the full story on this link).

I have a New Zealand myrtle in the garden. It is covered with fluffy white flowers at Christmas time, which prompted me to post about it last year (Christmas Trees, 8 Dec 2023 – also A White Christmas 14 Dec 2021). The Southern rata, another myrtle, was in flower when I was in the Botanic Gardens the Sunday before last.

Feijoas are very popular in New Zealand, and Kate Evans has written a book about them.

Here’s a close up of the pretty flowers which make the feijoa a self-decorating Xmas tree.

Myrtle rust is a problem for myrtles, so let’s hope it doesn’t become the grinch for future Christmases.

*My sister and brother-in-law, who gave us the inside Christmas tree also gave us the feijoa tree.

Plant power

Precious Platinum and sweet peas. The edge of the raffia mat shows Felix- damage.

It’s nice to have flowers from the garden on the table, but they have to be cat-proof. Felix has broken two vases and flooded the table trying to drink the water. A flat-bottomed vase has proved successful, but a rose, such as Mum’s favourite ‘Precious Platinum’, needs a slim container to hold it upright. A solution is to put the thinner vase in the larger one. Then it occurred to me to put sweet peas around the sides. The fragrant mix of flowers lifted our spirits which were sapped this morning, pre-caffeine, by a thirty-minute search for Mum’s hearing aid around and under the fridge. I found two ping pong balls, a small pine cone, bits of cat or dog biscuits, and a lot of fluff using the find-my-hearing-aid app, a fluffy duster, a torch and a wee bit of swearing. Finally, Felix’s fishing rod toy did the trick. Hearing aids are skin-coloured for camouflage while in the ear. A luminous colour would be useful for finding them in dark corners, just saying.

Apart from flowers cheering us up, the growth of other plants is miraculous to watch. Mother of Herbs (aka Cuban Oregano among other names) is taking over the kitchen windowsill. Outside, the yellow courgette plant is growing. The green courgette (see previous post ‘Small beginnings’) is shrinking, sadly, but today another as yet unidentified cucurbit has emerged beside it. The butternut pumpkin seeds I dried and planted have sprouted and I will need to find places to plant the seedlings soon. Where I pulled up suckering lilac, interesting fungus has emerged, probably doing its job of breaking down a tree stump. While the runner beans are beginning to wind up their stakes, the broad beans are ready to eat.

Aglow

It’s the time of year for brightness and abundance. Summer Solstice was this week and we’re on the downhill slope into the fullness of summer.

I arrived home at dusk recently and found my back garden glowing with the white flowers of feverfew. I’ve heard of people favouring white flowers in order to achieve this breath-taking effect. Now I know why.

The myrtle tree is covered with white flowers too – although recent rain has subdued it somewhat. The feijoa has very festive flowers, as does the fuchsia. The sweet peas are out and smelling wonderful. The Ake ake is a festive look in a vase, which I discovered after pruning it a little and deciding I couldn’t just discard the flowering stems. A kind friend gave us Christmas lilies.

Even the Strawberry Daiquiri Trifle I’ve begun to assemble, like a work of art, has a glowing layer of strawberry jelly.

Merry Christmas!

Hope

It’s heart-breaking to think our future on earth is threatened by our foolishness when nature continues to be amazing and new life is emerging in the garden. Blackcurrants, strawberries, globe artichokes, blueberries, tomatoes, beans, apples and grapes are beginning to develop, fresh and green.

Each morning is full of promise when a garden is full of flowers.

With plenty to spare for a vase inside.

And in the nearby park, huge trees spread a canopy of new green against a blue sky.

Sweet peas, honeysuckle and caterpillars

Every two or three days I pick sweet peas. I have two varieties, and the one with the thicker stems and more flowers has performed best, lasting well when picked.

The vase of sweet peas on the left was picked some days ago.

They smell gorgeous and look pretty amazing too.

More recently, the honeysuckle has begun to flower and the bumble bees seem to like it.

On a smaller scale, tiny caterpillars are beginning to appear on the swan plants. I put two more plants in as the wee critters look as if they need fattening up. This one looks large enough in the photo, but is only about one centimetre long.

In Alice in Wonderland the Caterpillar asks Alice, “What size do you want to be?”