My conversations with people are often the grist and inspiration for stories.
A recent discussion on my Facebook page about my garden, between me and my friend Victoria Hansen, prompted Olivia Garske to pop in and post this:
… wish you could come here and give me some tips! i so need some! … xxxx
Olivia lives in Brisbane. She’s moved into her newly built family home with a spanking new garden.
She’s married to Tom.
And the mother of four lovely, lively children.
Tom is the son of one of my oldest friends in Australia. Angela Garske.
For many years, she was my next door neighbour in my first house in Australia. A 3 storey 1880′s terrace house on Darling Street. Directly connected to the London Hotel.
In the inner city Sydney suburb of Balmain.
How time flies.
I met Angela before she became a mother to Tom and his older brother, Hugh.
And now they’re fully fledged adults with wives and children.
Who I stay in touch with through Facebook.
Who are now asking me for gardening advice?!
In answering Olivia, I realised I’ve learned so much about gardening in the 17 years we’ve lived in our ‘Wild Blue Yonder’.
And it’s gardening on a grand scale.
In tough conditions.
We live on the side of a hill. And the garden is a hard pan of rock and shale.
The Department of Primary Industries told me I’d never be able to establish a garden under these conditions.
But they didn’t know how much I always dreamed of having a large, rambling, country garden.
That’s what living in cramped apartments in New York City and tiny terrace houses in Balmain does to me.
Makes me yearn for bigger.
And I mean bigger on a majestic scale.
54 hectares of wide open spaces.
In 1992, when Victor and I measured the bare paddock that enclosed our farmhouse, and realised it was a hectare, we downed tools, stepped back and took a deep breath.
We were the first to admit we knew nothing about gardening in this environment and whatever we did, would be time and money wasted.
Nor did we want to be confronted with the spectre of dead plants because we made poor and ill informed choices.
So we did nothing but read and learn about gardening for 3 years.
Magazines, books, TV shows.
We were a sponge for information.
When we felt we had absorbed enough know how, we dug our first hole.
In 1995.
And haven’t stopped.
My garden is an old fashioned, fragrant garden.
Rock walls and stone steps built by Victor give it structure.
And the 2M high fence he constructed along the 100M frontage, provides the climbing space for my Lorraine Lea and Crepuscule roses. Intertwined with my ubiquitous honeysuckle.
And much wanted privacy from the occasional cars that travel up and down the dirt lane that is the gateway for the 5 families that share this patch of dirt.
It’s a garden full of hardy plants that will never win awards for uniqueness or rarity.
Those belong in gardens in different conditions.
My plants are tough as old boots and appreciated for their fragrance, colour, classic and simple beauty, and their ability to stand up to whatever mother nature flings at them.
Lilacs, arching Cotoneasters, Abelias, Buddleias, Philadelphus, 200+ old fashioned and Rugosa roses, hedges of Rosemary, Lavender and Hebes are just some of the shrubs planted in massive drifts.
Honeysuckle drapes the house and weaves itself throughout the overflowing roses along the kilometre of fence line.
Jasmine grows up the walls of the garage. Which protects the Jasmine from frost. And reminds us of springtime in Balmain.
Ditto for the Nasturtiums that poke their heads up and shimmy down the retaining walls.
My circular walled herb garden is bordered with Choisya, Bay trees and a hedge of Escallonia Illinita that wafts of sweet curry on a hot day. Cherry Plums on the outer side form an arch over the drive.
10,000 Soleil D’Or and Erchileer Jonquils perfume the air in early spring.
A 100M long ledge is planted with deciduous trees to provide a glorious kaleidoscope of colour in autumn. Like shimmering jewels in the fading sun.
An alley of 30 She Oaks is home to Rosellas, King Parrots, Kookaburras, Hawks and Black Cockatoos.
Bottle Brush planted in huge drifts brings the Friar Birds and their endless chatter.
The 110 native and exotic trees that surround the house are home for the 90+ species of small birds that fly in and fly out during the year.
I happily share the fruit on my trees with any birds which care to indulge.
I can always buy an apple at the supermarket.
But I can’t replace the Rosella, hungry for nourishment during a drought, who is munching on an apple hanging from my tree.
The Cherry Plums that arch over the drive outside our front door are prized for their beautiful flowers and sweet perfume in spring.
And most welcome shade in summer.
An unexpected bonus is the birds eye view to the smaller birds that build their nests in the Cherry Plums and raise their young.
My Buttercups are a sea of yellow in October and November and bring the dam garden to life. Along with the lilies and jonquils that pop up from underneath the ground cover of Mexican Daisies.
The blue spires of Giant Ajuga, planted under the island of Iceberg Roses, are in full bloom in time for Victor’s birthday in early October.
His birthday bouquet of these iridescent wonders is presented to him in a 1930′s vase set aside for this very special occasion.
The blue periwinkle flowers of Vinca in spring abound throughout the garden.
The toughness and deep green leaves of the Vinca make it the perfect ground cover under my deep red Oklahoma roses and pure white Rugosas Alba.
Wintersweet and Winter Honeysuckle break through the gloom of sometimes dreary winter days to provide cheering perfume.
And the blue flowers of Rosemary make a welcome appearance as winter settles in.
This is a garden that is alive with intoxicating perfume wafting throughout it all year long.
And abundant bird life that darts in and out of trees and shrubs.
Songbirds that serenade.
Hawks that hunt.
Fairy wrens that happily screech and hop about, just like kids in a playground.
Why am I blessed with such abundance?
Because the soil is the soul of my garden. If I nurture it, everything in it will thrive.
And that’s what I do.
I garden chemical free.
Feed my soil.
And watch my plants thrive.
I use NO CHEMICALS. For any reason.
My 90+ species of birds, combined with the lizards, frogs and snakes, take care of the bulk of unwanted insects and rodents.
I mulch with thick layers of sheep manure, sprinkled with Organic Life (natives dislike Dynamic Lifter) and topped off with extra thick layers of sugar cane mulch.
Every year.
I get my yearly supply of 100+ bags of sheep manure from a local farmer. He bags it in 40kg bags and delivers it to me.
I make out a cheque to his favourite charity and exchange it for my manure.
I dig nothing in.
That’s the job of the insect and worm life underneath the mulch cocktail.
Everything is recycled.
I have a huge 3 bay compost heap.
I just lay the waste material on top of each other. Ashes from the fireplace, garden and kitchen waste. No MEAT. No dog poo because I treat for heartworm. It kills the worms in the compost heap.
Contrary to popular advice, I never turn the heap. That’s the job of the worms. Old hands at composting also never turn their heap.
The compost heap is only watered when it rains. Which is patchy.
When the heap reaches shoulder height, I cover it with thick layers of Hessian and lock it down with the weight of broken terracotta pots.
And start on the 2nd bay.
Then the 3rd.
I use this compost everywhere, but especially in my vegetable garden.
For ambience, I planted a small, drought hardy garden around the compost heap.
And it thrives because the leaching goodness from the heap feeds it.
Every year, I rake up 30+/- wheelbarrows of autumn leaves and use them to cover my vegetable garden, which is the size of a small backyard.
Watering is only done when needed.
I have 10 outside taps, all with timers.
Some are manual timers. Some are digital.
The vegetable garden is on a battery operated digital timer and watered twice a day in summer.
I have a drought proof bore.
Which is the primary reason we purchased this overgrazed, over cleared, drought affected sheep property.
Access to water means we can establish a garden.
The bore water quality is adequate. Even though it has a high concentration of calcium. It keeps the plants alive in extreme drought conditions. Albeit with a case of severe dandruff covering the surface of the leaves.
Rainwater is always preferred. And washes the dandruff away.
The bulk of my garden has survived the prolonged 12 year drought because my soil is healthy.
What few plants don’t survive are never replanted.
I move on and choose something better suited to my conditions.
This Guerrilla From The Bush knows that I will always have a healthy garden as long as I feed its soul.
All the best,
Carol
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