Slide night

Mafeking is relieved: I found a six pack of mince pies in the back of the pantry cupboard.   Late afternoon, teeming rain outside, and I thought I was going to have to push the six o’clock first beer of the day schedule forward just to relieve the frustration.   When you garden and are forced indoors hours before you are ready, then it’s always a toss up between late afternoon tea party or an early boozing session.

But as it’s to be tea, then I shall resize pictures and show a few slides.

Here are a few pictures from just one morning’s walk up the hill at my parents house in Sydney. A seaside hill, plenty of green, and quite a few planting schemes that I found fetching.   And it’s the natural Australian plants that feature predominantly.   Why fight nature? Something I have to learn here.

It’s a shame that Westringias aren’t able to withstand cold winter temperatures, I’d swoop on them like a shot if I could and plant them here. Quiet white flowers, but a lovely domed shape.

Droughts and water restrictions mean that few people seem to labour over fussy flowers in their front gardens. But stretlitzias abound. And I like the way these bulbs add a bit of colour to this textural scheme.   Hard to do pastels is such searing heat. But one of the most popular plants is plumbago. And it romps away. If I ever get better winter protection, I would love to do some plumbago in pots for the courtyard in summer.

The scented hedge of choice is a wonderful orange jessamine, or jasmine, called Murraya. An Australian native but found all over Asia. It is similar to mock orange in perfume and deliciously pervasive.   I couldn’t resist plucking blooms from almost every hedge I passed en route to the beach. And then found faded and squished samples in my beach bag days later and much the worse for wear.

With foliage predominating, sometimes a simple addition such as this daisy, an erigion I suppose, makes quite a difference.   My poor phormium here in the French garden has not enjoyed the cold snowy winter. I lifted its protective fleece off first thing this week, and found some very sorry stalks underneath.   Shan’t do anything until May or so in case there is a faint sign of life.   But needless to say, you don’t get a photograph of such a failure. Enjoy the Sydney one instead.

One of the most striking trees in the street is not one that would win any beauty contests: it’s a banksia. And this particular specimen I am told is older than white Australian settlement. Over two hundred and fifty years old and still gnarling its way up and out. And right beside it are some fine young eucalypts which arch over the street and will happily grow another fifty foot or more unless the electricity company decide they are too close to power lines and hack them down.

And speaking of monsters, (power companies, not trees) here is the bane of my mother’s gardening experience. Somewhere in here is a plant or even a tree. Morning glory was one of those sweet little annual plants brought out from Britain and introduced to a climate that meant it never dies. Just grows and grows and smothers and thrives. There is a little council owned wilderness in front of my parents house and I figure that if my mother’s secateurs ever stay idle for half a year, then the plant will creep over the wall, cover the garden and eventually the house.

Control is a common feature of many introduced plants. Lantana is another pest that prettily invades.   But this may seem an extreme form of weed control: these are metal sheets from a scrapped ship at the Cockatoo Island shipyard in the centre of Sydney Harbour. I actually think it looks rather glam. But hope the eucalypt corralled inside doesn’t mind the heavy metal tang.

And to finish – not Sydney but outside Melbourne at a winery garden called Yerang Station: I just can’t keep my camera’s view finder far away from fluffy ornamental grasses and trees.