My Garden Story

When my friend Kay and her husband moved from England back to Bowral, her daughter and son-in-law renovated a cottage they owned – new bathroom, new kitchen, for them. In an effort to pretty the front garden a bit (it was non-existent, just lawn and a couple of trees) I bought some lightweight timber barrels which I put outside the windows, and planted them with citrus; lemon, orange, grapefruit, mandarin and lime. Kay was thrilled, but after a bit she said she would turn them into a grove around the side and plant them in the lawn.  Did I want any of the barrels?  I took three. One went at the top of the front steps with a white camellia, Alba Plena I think, but I confess to throwing away tags which is a dreadful habit (more on that later) and a double white viola, Conte di Brazza, which spilled over the side and spread around the barrel. The scent was amazing, and I was pleased with that.

The two others went out the back. One was planted with a formal pink camellia, Betty Ridley, which grew enormous and had to be lifted, root pruned and replaced in the same barrel in fresh soil. It is now pruned hard every second year and after twenty years is happy in the shady spot I chose originally. The third barrel had a lemon tree, and it was prolific, until it wasn’t, then it was dug up and put in the garden where, against a wall which gets hot afternoon sun, it is again, prolific. Again, I’m not certain of the variety, but the fruit is big and almost seedless.

Meanwhile, back on the front porch, generous watering of the camellia was taking a toll and the barrel started to disintegrate. So the camellia went into the garden, where half of it died, but after two years it has recovered and flowered again. The viola disappeared though I tried to save a couple of roots, it didn’t work. Another large tub holds a white hydrangea. This has been moved several times, from shade where it didn’t flower at all and developed a fungus. Moved to full sun. vigorously pruned and sprayed it recovered and grew lots of flowers but it wilted alarmingly every day, so back into semi-shade where it is happier and flowering well.

Pots, large and small dominate the terrace outside the kitchen doors. Preferably terra cotta, which come from a pot place on the main road where they import and sell seconds in large quantities.  I have also succumbed to a couple of big terra cotta coloured plastic pots for ease of movement, which, tucked at the back are not obviously plastic. Three big ones have camellias again, the fish tailed one that Grant gave me, a single pink and a white tinged with pink on the outer leaves. I have two of these in the garden as well, c. sasanqua Paradise Pearl. Also, two tubs of gardenias and one of a dwarf crape myrtle.

There are five pots of hostas which started life in the garden under the oak tree until viciously attacked by snails, so were dug up, potted and placed on a wooden table and bench. The snails still find them, but not as often and the damage is controlled as I can see them every day. When I visited Highgrove some years ago with my sister, I saw about half an acre of hostas in the Stumpery.  I looked at them very hard and could not see a single hole in any leaf.  I figured the then Prince of Wales had gardeners who went over them carefully at dawn, collected the snails and fed them to the ducks.

Assorted smaller pots hold variegated alstroemerias, and seasonal plants. There is a trough with the blue geranium Rozanne which, by the end of summer has smothered everything in sight. I love it to bits, and have another three dotted around the garden, they die right back in winter and them re-emerge in spring, they are hardy and rabbits don’t touch them, and the flower is a delight. They can grow into stupendous mounds which are smothered with sky blue flowers, need minimal care, I can’t think why more gardens don’t have them.

Pots of tulips and daffodils brighten the terrace in early spring. The daffs usually go into the garden, and I’ll try a new species the following year. The tulips I lift and store over summer.

Of the seasonal plants, I always buy white petunias, big bright pink or red New Guinea impatiens which stand up well to the heat, and two or three euphorbia Diamond Frost.  I have been told it is a perennial, but I have tried over-wintering it inside and outside, and it inevitably dies so now I just treat it as an annual and buy a few more every year. When I sometimes long for a splash of yellow I get a couple of primulas. They need a lot of water and last a while but don’t carry through the summer.

There are two pots of fuchsias on the ground and another four in hanging baskets. They hang in the shade of the wisteria and in a good year are a joy. I’d had a little success with them in Sydney and remember my godfather’s house where the whole of the tiny back garden was a vine covered pergola with a great many fuchsias in hanging baskets. I prune them as they die off in the winter and again when the leaves start to appear again. The baskets have to be lowered to tend them, I have on occasions neglected the soil and almost lost one, but topped up with dynamic lifter and mulch and carefully watered, so far the original four have survived for several years. Beside the front door is a large white fuchsia, Annabelle, a gift of a cutting in a pot from an experienced gardener. I left it in the pot and put it under an unnamed pink and white azalea, also a gift. It grows to a great size and flowers for six months of the year. The roots have long since grown through the bottom of the pot and found a happy home in a patch of soil already home to a climbing rose and a ground cover of Saxifraga stolonifera. They all seem to come out at once, following the solo performance of a wonderful luculia gratissima, again a plant needing quite severe pruning to stop it climbing towards the sky where I can neither see nor smell its wondrous flowers.

All pots need good draining potting mix and plenty of water. I can tell from the fuchsias and the hydrangea, always the first to wilt, when they need a good watering. Windy days are the worst for drying out the terracotta. Speaking of potting mix brings me neatly to the subject of soil. Good gardeners know all about the importance of knowing the soil, and compost and mulch.  Next time, a sad little story about compost.