My Garden Story

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In a previous article I mentioned that I inherited some lovely fruit trees; a nashi pear, apricot, almond, peach and plum. There is also a loquat but not grafted so its just ornamental. The peach, pear, and particularly the apricot were heavy croppers. I made jam and jellies and ate the peaches, picking them before they were ripe to save them from the birds. I could not save the nashi pears, and they all ended up on the ground with one or two pecks on every one. After a while they stopped fruiting and now are just a large ornamental tree on the boundary.  One year we had a real drought, and I lost the almond, which was very old and gnarled, but had the most exquisite blossom and the first to flower, which lifted the heart. The following year there was torrential rain, and some trees already weakened developed root rot. I could see the peach, which had poor drainage, was not happy and parts began to die. I pruned it carefully and it survived, but only for another year, then it too died. The apricot and plum continued to produce lots of fruit and then disaster struck. A chap who was hired to remove the encroaching black wattles, dropped a tree on the apricot and split it almost in half. Grant was quick to plaster the split with mud and bandage it as tight as he could, then he drove a huge screw into the branches and said wait and see. It survived, but was weakened by the assault, and the crops were lighter until the next really dry spell when it looked like it had given up. It was leafless and looked lifeless. Do you want me to take it out? Asked Malcolm. No I said, much as I hate dead timber it was such a wonderful, graceful shape I thought I’d keep it anyway. I tended it as best I could, and the following spring a few tiny green leaves appeared. I held my breath. A sprig of blossom, then a few little fruit on two branches. More leaves, so it lives. Only one fifth of the tree has so far appears to be alive, but I’m hopeful that next spring will see more improvement. The plum was unaffected and bears heaps of fruit, but I have to be quick because the birds get to it long before its ripe. There is also a lemon which went from a tub into the garden against a sunny wall, and is a good cropper, I don’t know what variety it is but the fruit is large, juicy, and has almost no pips, probably Lemonade.  Perfect.

There is also a small, rather sulky olive tree in a tub. Olive is a stone fruit, something I only just found out. Readers of previous articles might remember that early in the establishment of the garden when I was frustrated by the slow growth and unwieldy design, I threatened to pull the whole thing out and just plant an olive grove. This little tree grew well when first planted a couple of years ago, and produced a few olives, but since then it has not grown nor produced anything. Its probably been overwatered as they thrive in poor soil in hot dry climates like Jordan and the Greek islands. I cannot help the rain, so I’m just hoping this is a temporary setback, and it will come good. Added to all this is an ornamental persimmon, a lovely, lush shrub with tiny orange which is sour, and too small to be of interest, but the birds eat them anyway.

There are blackberries growing wild in the gully, technically a council water course and I want them gone. A couple of gardeners have tried in the past, but Malcolm is the only one who is now making a difference. He treats it as a project.

 

Vegetables

I was full of enthusiasm for growing my own veg, starting with tomatoes.  Every year for three or four, I would buy three different varieties as soon as the seedings appeared, pot them up, water and stake them and place in the sun. They would grow and flower and then the tomatoes appeared, bright green and I watched them swell and got quite excited. A week later, then a month later there were still green.  All summer I waited but none of the varieties I tried ever ripened so I picked them all and made green tomato chutney in disgust, which I gave away as I don’t like it.

Next, I tried artichokes, an architectural plant, and they did really well in the garden. I have a south American friend who loves them when they are tiny, so I would phone Mercedes and she would come over and take the crop, leaving me with one or two to turn into gorgeous purple thistle like flowers. I can’t really be bothered to eat them myself, but I enjoyed them as plants. They too drowned the Big Wet year, and I replaced them with alliums which give no trouble.

The last vegetable I attempted was broad beans, which I really like. I planted a row in another garden bed, and they grew and cropped really well. I ate them all, and waited for the next season when again, they grew  and flowered and then the beans came, but this time they were all struck with sooty mold so I pulled them all out and threw them in the compost. End of the vegetables.

Herbs

I had a bit more success with herbs to start with. I planted all the usual suspects, parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. And oregano. Don’t do that, said Grant, it will spread everywhere, and it has. I have been cutting it back every year for twenty years and I love it, with tomatoes and pasta particularly. The rosemary, which was pink, flourished and grew happily for some years. Then following the Big Wet, it died. I planted another, and when it became overshadowed, I moved it under the lemon, and it died. Now I have one in a pot. I’d really like a hedge. The carpark at my dentist’s practice has a magnificent stand of rosemary and goodness knows how many cars have backed into it. I like fried sage leaves on goat cheese, and I particularly like the purple flowers, but it didn’t last long. The parsley grew enormous and came back year after year, so I thought I was safe, but no. One year it failed to appear, so now I have one plant in a pot too. The thyme does very well if left alone. I planted a dwarf creeping thyme in between the sandstone pavers between the magnolias and it too, comes back year after year. Lovely to walk on. I tried coriander, but it shot up and went to seed overnight, and the basil was eaten by snails, so now I have a pot on the windowsill and when it dies down, I just get another one.

Finally, there is sorrel. It is technically a perennial herb but is mostly treated as a vegetable. I bought a seedling because it is such a lovely green and it reminds me of my childhood paintbox with little squares of colour, my favourite being Vegetable Green. The seedling has turned into a huge and wonderful plant just outside the kitchen door. Snails sometimes eat the lower leaves but with little damage. I had a Hungarian friend come and stay, and when she saw the sorrel she almost burst into tears. Sorrel soup, she cried, in old Budapest. The family had left during the revolution of 1956. Take as much as you like, I told her, it will grow very quickly.  She did. Intrigued, I decided to make soup, so I harvested a couple of dozen leaves and dropped them into simmering water. They instantly turned brown and when I strained them, they had turned to sludge. I didn’t know the soup is basically potato, and having read the recipe decided I wouldnbother All I do is to chop finely and add to salads. The faint lemony flavour is pleasant, but it’s the big green plant that I really like.

Next time, blue flowers and the difficult yellow.