My Garden Story

One of the most surprising things was how quickly I became immersed in gardening; I was quite passionate about the trees and flowers in my patch. most of which grew without much help from me, and I waited impatiently for spring to see the emerging bulbs and blossom. I took to reading gardening magazines and watching TV programmes, Peter Cundle on Gardening Australia was the best show of the week, and I fell in love with the charismatic Monty Don and the compassionate Alan Tichmarsh. All three did totally different things and were equally interesting and instructive. I also looked at gardening books, heavy with gorgeous photos of sweeping lawns, borders crowded with colour and beauty, and a view.  The gardens were perfect and the people who owned them seemed to be perfect too. I’m old enough to know that there is no such thing as perfection, but just instances of joy. I also visited every open garden in my area. and there were plenty. In the most affluent suburb they all had the same look, striving for the perfect lawn, tall, clipped hedges blocking out the neighbours, formal roses and a discreet, currently fashionable native corner. Further afield I found more individuality, but the same plants recurred because they did well, and, unlike me, these gardeners had learned the lesson I was yet to learn, to grow things that like the soil, the climate and withstand the frost. Or have a greenhouse for the tender ones. I thought about that briefly for my orchids but decided to spend the money on garden plants.

The first surprise in the garden was when, early on, the well-established and lovely golden Robinia suddenly dropped dead. To this day I don’t know why. We took it out and I replaced it with another tree in the same spot (mistake), a golden Rain Tree (koelreuteria paniculata) which had sprays of yellow flowers, followed by pink seed pods and autumn foliage. Like the Robinia it was deciduous, but unlike it, in the garden beneath and at quite a distance it grew suckers. I didn’t mind this at first and they were easy to pull out when small but were popping up further afield and threatening to become a nuisance. I had no idea what to do, but the tree saved me the trouble of finding out by dropping dead too. Thinking it must be something under where it was planted, and the gardener and I concluded that there was a water course there and after a couple of bouts of very heavy rain both had become waterlogged in the clay and suffered root rot.

I tried juniper to cover the area, but that died too. Eventually, I let the nearby colony of white Naked Lady lilies (Amaryllis Belladonna) or Surprise Lily, take over. They moved happily into the space and, bordered with Solomon’s seal, can take care of themselves. One lesson learned the hard way.

Undeterred, and wanting more trees, I bought a tulip tree (liriodendron) in a sale for $10. I thought these were exotic and expensive, so  perhaps there might be something wrong with it apart from it being very small. I read it would not have a tulip for fifteen years, so I put it in the top corner of the lawn and rather lost interest in it.  After a couple of seasons I checked on it and to my surprise it had grown several feet and taken on an elegant shape. After that I watched it more carefully and it rapidly grew tall, had lovely golden autumn leaves which drifted into a circle below, but each spring when the green reappears, I search eagerly for a flower.  It is now fifteen years old and nothing, nada. Another lesson, in patience which I didn’t have when I started out.

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