Gardening or archeology?

I think this picture might show where it all began. My gardening adventure started here.

And you would think that such an important memory might deserve a decent shot.  Sorry about that.

This is a lemon verbena bush that sits by the side of my friends’ house.  And I have just been reunited with it after an absence of thirty years.

My father went through Vet School in the 1940s with Andrew and Heather and they remained close friends all their lives.  It was natural for Archie to visit with them when they lived first at Newstead and then near Goulburn.

And the visits continued all through my childhood. We loved going to B’Long (I’ll spare you the very long and tricky-to-spell-full-name of the property, I’d only disgrace myself with typos.).

There were Andrew and Heather’s four children to spend time with, and grand meals to enjoy and a wonderful place to explore.

It was the first home I visited that had such a grand home. Lived in by such lovely people.  No airs and graces here, just hospitality and laughter and a bit of magic.

I have no idea how old I was when I found this lemon verbena bush for the first time. Seven or eight?  It was obviously in summer as it was full of the utterly divine scented leaves.  And I remember standing by it, transfixed. Crushing leaf after leaf, amazed that so much perfume could come from such insignificant green leaves.

I suspect I stuffed my pockets and probably trailed bits of greenery throughout the house. I was never castigated. But there may have been a quizical eyebrow raised.

Did I want to become a gardener there and then? Possibly. I’d like to think so. And I knew I always wanted to have a home with this magical bush in my life.

I might even had had fantasies that such a grand home could be in my future too.   I did love sweeping down the main staircase admiring how the sun shone through the stained glass windows.  And finding it funny that one had to really trek to the kitchen as it was so far from the rest of the house.

Fast forward many years and I have my grand home and pleasure grounds, but sadly the generation who came together over surgery and histology have died.

Luckily for all of us Angus, their son, and his wife Ruth and their children have bravely taken on the huge job of making this historic Australian property a home, a business and a wonderful place for their friends and guests.

We had a lovely visit this week and the thing that fascinated me was the work they are doing in the garden.

Picture this; the house was completed in the 1880s (the third home since they settled the land) and there were Keen Gardeners throughout the generations.  Gardens stretching for acres around the house were created. Fabulous trees were planted.

But over 130 years have passed since the family have had the true gentlemanly leisure and the full-time gardening staff to keep up the complicated garden beds and shrubberies and arboretum in their original state.

So where do you start a major restoration?  Some of the traditional borders still exist. Although Ruth has replanted hedges to mark out where they probably existed before.

And the swathes of bulbs in the lawns are a perfect archeological marker for what has gone before. And this late winter was my lucky time to arrive and see how extensive the grounds are.

There is now a clear sweep to the river and my friends have been digging for victory down by the water. Paths. Everywhere!  All hidden under a hundred years of soil shifting ever onwards towards the river.  I love how the bones of the original ground are emerging. But I don’t envy them the hefty spade work it has taken to unearth them.

And if you think this excavation work is on a grand scale – cast your gaze out to the river and spot the huge replanting scheme that is taking place.

Give a man a bulldozer and Angus never stops.

Well, I should say it’s always a joint effort with this restoration of the grounds; Jane transplanting hundreds of bulbs, Jilly shifting hundreds more; weeding, endless weeding.  And great pyres of dead roses and shrubs piled up ready for a festive conflagration.  You can see two such here in the left of the picture beside the new trees.

Angus’s son (generation number six on the farm) helping to clear out the willow by the river bank and planting the hundreds of native trees.

I am very proud of their achievement and look forward to seeing yet more of the original garden emerge.  Keep a diary! You will be so amazed when you look back and see just what you have achieved.