Herbs for health

The television programme that has been playing on Saturday nights recently must have had a few young people very excited initially, as it seemed to be offering advice on growing marijuana and opium poppies.
They were to be disappointed, although I guess a few will have stayed and watched James Wong presenting Grow your Own Drugs anyway, and may have learnt something about the value of gardening and the place many garden plants have in the medicine industry.
The programme has probably come at a good time, as many young New Zealanders are having their first taste of home gardening. A combination of economic belt tightening and a hankering for a more natural way of food production has seen many installing their first vegetable gardens. Some will be also looking at more natural health remedies too.
It is claimed that 60% of the world’s population rely on medicinal herbs for their medicines. In New Zealand nearly one-quarter of all prescriptions contain plant-based active ingredients - aspirin is derived from willow and meadowsweet, for example, and you are gargling with thymol (the active component of thyme) every time you open that Listerine bottle. Even the common heart medicine digitalis originally came from the wild foxglove.
On a personal level, I am perfectly happy to use take whatever my doctor prescribes for me, but there are plenty of herbal remedies for those minor ailments that do not really call for a visit down to the medical centre.
Perhaps one of the most fashionable of these medicinal herds is Aloe vera. This is one species in a large family of succulent plants, whose more decorative members are very much in fashion in the warmer parts of the country. They mainly have stately architectural leaves, arranged in rosette form and armed with bards, set off by dramatic candelabras of flowers.
Aloe vera, which is more restrained than many of its kin, is known as the burn-and-bandage plant. Its gel-like sap helps to regenerate skin tissue in cases of minor burns, scrapes, wounds, and sunburn, and then dries into a natural bandage. This one is not totally hardy and is often grown as a pot plant, but can easily be cultivated in a warm frost-free spot outside. The dried gel is said to work as an oral laxative, but I am never going to try that!
If you have got yourself successfully bandaged with the Aloe, but you are finding it hard to relax, a dose of chamomile may be just what you need. The best form is the annual species Matricaria chamomilla which makes a delightful apple-scented tea that is said to help calm anxiety, soothe insomnia, and treat minor digestive upsets. The leaves have been used as a poultice to encourage wound healing as well.
This is very easy to grow. It likes sandy soil and partial shade and as it loves to reseed itself in happy situations, sit will soon be happily ensconced in your garden.

Orchid season

There are some immutable constants in this universe; the speed of light never changes, pi is always the same, and each glasshouse, no matter how big it is, is always about 20% too small.
I thought I had addressed the smallness of my glasshouse (or polycarbonate house to be more exact) a summer or two ago, by expanding it by one fifth, but now I find, miraculously, it is still 20% too small.
Last weekend I pricked out this year’s crop of Pacific Coast Native Irises, and got the potted tuberous begonias out from under the glasshouse benches. They had spent the winter there, having a dry rest on their sides but it is now time for them to be kicked back into life by being watered.
I was scrambling for space. I had to shuffle around the various potted special plants, and even then could hardly fit everything in. I was especially keen to make some room because a friend had offered me some pots of one of my favourite plants, the little Australian Dendrobium orchids. As much as I tried, I just could not find any space at all.
That is a pity because this is the time of year for orchid societies to mount their spring shows. The Masterton show will be held on October 3 and 4, while the Hawkes Bay society will be holding their Sarcochilus show on November 7 in the Taradale Town Hall. The Masterton show will feature a large sale of very affordable orchid plants, and I was thinking I could expand my collection
I have a particular fascination with the Australian Dendorobiums – ‘dendrobes’ as orchid lovers call them.
They are derived from a number of epiphytic (growing on the bark of trees) and lithophytic (growing on rock faces or boulders) species, and they are smaller growing species (usually less than 30 cm) with reliable spring flushes of many flower spikes.
Again, they will do well in a special growing house with shade cloth walls and a solid roof to keep out the worst of the winter rains. Failing that, a nice north facing verandah will do fine. They enjoy the winter sun but need to be kept shaded over the hottest months.
I find they respond well to a small application of a long-term fertiliser. I know specialist growers go to all sorts of trouble, making up special feeding mixes for different times of the year, but for the average home gardener it is probably not that necessary – you will get perfectly fine results from the standard formulae.
Plants should be kept moist year round, although they can be allowed to dry oput a little in the middle of winter. Do not let them sit in water though, and make sure the pots are kept off the ground, as earthworms will enter through the drainage holes and make a mess of the bark mix.
The best-known species is he Australian King Orchid, Dendrobium kingianum, now officially Thelychiton kingianus. It is arguably the easiest Dendrobium to grow. It is the fastest growing and the most forgiving of all the Australian orchids, which makes it ideal for the novice grower. It ranges in colour from true albino white to a rich cherry purple, with bicolour shades of white with a rich violet eye. Breeders are currently working on lemon shades, true salmons and unusual sunset colours as well.
Take advantage of the opportunity to get along and see what specialist orchid growers are up to in their shows. Be warned though – you might find your glasshouse (or verandah) is about 20% too small.

I have been thinking about English playwright Denis Potter this week, as the first flush of Japanese flowering cherries hit their peak. In a famous interview with the novelist Melvyn Bragg, Potter, who had recently been diagnosed with the cancer that was to kill him, described the view out his window, looking onto a plum tree in full flower. He said what he saw was “the whitest, frothiest, blossomest blossom that there ever could be”.
The past few weeks have been brilliant for blossom lovers. The relatively warm weather of August pushed cherries into flower a little earlier than usual, and they somehow managed to flower through a week without any substantial wind. And the effect has been magic, with huge clusters of flowers gradually building to a crescendo, then slowly going past their peak, and silently dropping confetti-like petals on to the ground beneath. If only every cherry flowering season could have been like this!
No wonder the Japanese go to such trouble with the Cherry Blossom Festival each year, as they since the 7th century. The festivals are held throughout the country to celebrate the arrival of spring. They are so important the national weather forecast includes a blossom forecast leading up to the celebration.
These trees have it all. In the main, the foliage is clean and attractive through the main growing season, often with the bonus of interesting new leaf colour in the spring, and a correspondingly exciting autumn colour later in the season. Even in winter, many of the varieties have interesting branching patterns only made obvious when the leaves have fallen.
Most of us think the very full double pink cherries when we think of flowering cherries, but interestingly enough, it is mainly the single white forms the Japanese treasure. They especially value these for the midnight viewing sessions they participate in.
Probably the variety they most treasure is ‘Taihaku’. This forms a tall growing tree with a large rounded crown, and has the most spectacular large single white flowers. These saucer-shaped flowers are slightly fragrant, best noticed in the warmth of a calm afternoon.
‘Shirotae’ is the famed Mount Fuji cherry, which forms a flat-topped tree with tiered branches that often droop to the ground. The pure white flowers are sometimes single, sometimes semi-double, and are scented of hawthorn.

I took a lovely walk through our local park at lunchtime last week. My primary purpose was to go and check on the irises growing in the bed my grandmother donated to the town many years ago. I had weeded the bed a few weeks before, and knew the first of the flowers would nearly be out. Sure enough, there were a few flowers on the lovely gold and yellow form of Iris bucharica. This pretty species is the easiest of the Juno section – bulbs, but with persistent roots. It will grow in any well-drained soil and a sunny site, and is great for flowering in early to mid spring.
But it was not the irises that really took my eye – or my nos. It was one of the deliciously fragrant Viburnums wafting its delicious scent around the sheltered part of the park where it was growing.
I had been in a friend’s garden earlier in the week and was amazed to see four or five V. x burkwoodii growing around a relatively small garden. My friend loves scent and her garden featured a number of Michelias in heavy bud, so I can only imagine how fragrant her garden will be in a week or so.
V x burkwoodii is undoubtedly the most popular of the scented Viburnums. It has tight clusters of pure white flowers at this time of the year, with soft fragrance that I have seen described as being reminiscent of baby powder. It is certainly one of the few semi-deciduous shrubs that has retained its popularity over the years, and is perhaps among the top two or three scented shrubs grown in New Zealand.
It is a hybrid raised in Britain, between V. utile and V. carlesii. The former is an rare species in New Zealand, and I have never seen it offered. V. carlesii is usually findable and is a very fine deciduous shrub, growing about two metres high, although the specimen in the park was only just over half that. It was covered with the most delightful pink-budded flowers, opening to white, and scented even better than V. x burkwoodii in my opinion. It is hardy and, surprisingly, does well near the sea, but has never achieved the popularity of its child.

The spring vegetable garden

September is a busy time in the vegetable garden, as the main planting and sowing season kicks in for most of us. By now you should have the soil well prepared and ready for the upcoming season. I generally do not use green crops, preferring to add a lot of compost to the soil but either way, you should have all this humus well dug into the garden by now. Make sure to keep the pH level up at the same time, by applying a good dressing of lime. The bacteria that break down the humus also tend to lower the pH, and frequent applications of compost can quickly diminish the pH level. I find a good guide is to use about a handful of lime to the square metre each year. If you have any doubts about the pH level of your soil, most garden centres have kits which you can quickly check it with.
It is also time to start sowing carrots, parsnip, beetroot, silver beet, peas, swedes and turnips. Most of these need a relatively high pH and lack of success with beetroot in particular is often caused by lack of lime.
We have very free-draining soil in the vegetable garden, created by years of composting. This suits most root crops very well, but it also seems to suit the carrot rust fly perfectly. Over the years I tried various advertised chemical remedies, but I have to say we did not really get the problem under control until I started using a blocking method. I created a large cloche, but instead of covering it with glass or clear plastic I used some white shade cloth. The cloche is made to fit snugly in our garden beds and has proven very effective at protecting our carrots.
Last year I decided to lift the cloche a little higher, as it had been constraining the tops of the carrots. I built a small wall (about 100mm high) to sit the cloche on. Later in the season I lifted the cloche, thinking the rust fly time had passed, but alas, I discovered that the flies found the carrots and severely damaged our winter harvest. I will not be caught out this season.
Most vegetables taste much better when just picked from the garden, but that seems to apply much more so for carrots – they are sweeter by a long way, and also far tastier. I like to grow one of the smaller types – a Manchester Table type – but last year trialled a couple of F1 hybrid varieties from my local garden centre. I have to say they both performed very well (until the rust fly found them) and I will be repeating the trial this year. If only someone could make a variety that was rust fly resistant.
Beetroot is a very reliable growing vegetable that that has a number of uses in the garden. The young leaves can be used in salads; slightly older leaves can be boiled or steamed, much the same as silver beet; the young roots are delicious when roasted whole, and of course, the mature roots have a delightful taste of their own. Those brought up on canned beetroot will find the taste quite different – not as sweet and slightly earthy - but they are very easy to grow as long as the pH level is high enough. There are lots of varieties to choose from now. As well as the cylindrical red type most of us are familiar with, there are cylindrical varieties, and there is a good range of coloured forms – orange, yellow and white for example.
Some garden centres sell beetroot seedlings now. Make sure you have enough soil depth to plant the entire root (it is quite long for such a small plant) and this will work fine. If you do not have a lot of garden room, the round varieties can easily be grown in a container.

Proteas

There are quite a number of things we share with our Australian and South African cousins. As well as ancestral links to Great Britain, we also have a joint passion for cricket and rugby. We also share a love of gardening, and a love of the various members of the vast protea family.
It is one of those families that stretches across the southern latitudes, although it is centred on Africa. In New Zealand, are at the very edge of the distribution, our sole representative being the New Zealand honeysuckle, the rewarewa, Knightia excelsa.
As might be expected of a genus named after a king who had the ability to assume a wide variety of shapes, the proteas come in many different sizes and forms. The most familiar, though, and the most commonly planted, are those that the various forms of the shrubby Protea neriifolia, and its near relatives.
An old gardening friend of mine was a fiend for the various members of this family, and I always think of him when I see them in the garden or in the nursery. This weekend I came a cross a shipment of new plants in one of our local garden centres, and had a pleasant half an hour looking at them and making the acquaintance of a few new varieties.
One that took my eye was a new hybrid called ‘Margarita.’ This has quite large flowers of red, tipped with white beards. The flowering season is almost over with this one, but it still looked very attractive. Once the flowering has finished the old flowers are best removed, as this will allow the plant to make more growth and better flowers the following season. It is similar to the older ‘Pink Frost’, but the flowers are much more deeply coloured.
‘Frosted Fire’ is another in that vein, with rich red flowers with white frosted tips. It is more compact in its growth habits, perhaps only reaching 1.5 metres. It is very free flowering and very reliable in the garden.
Most of use are more familiar with the usual P. neriifolia type, with pink flowers tipped with black, and ‘Ruby’ is a selected form in this range, with deeper coloured flowers than usual.
I was really taken with the subdued colourings of ‘Peach Sheen’. This hybrid has flowers like a large P. neriifolia, but instead of being pink the flowers are a most unusual light peachy-orange, with a delightful shininess. The flowers are tipped in traditional black.
The last of the new varieties that took my eye was the somewhat risqué ‘Burgundy Nipple’ – and yes, that is what it is called, but for the life of me I cannot see why it has such a suggestive name! The flowers are not nipple shaped (or should I say, not like any nipple I have ever seen!) and they are not burgundy either. They are pink with the usual black tips, and look very attractive. I guess the name derives from the buds, which seemed to be darker coloured, but I cannot imagine what made the breeder give the plant such name.

Tinkerbelle

The two little girls next door have a new kitten, 'Tinkerbelle'.
She has visited us irregularly, but seems to be able to hear when our adopted granddaughter Emily visits, as she immediately comes over to check her out.
Yesterday Emily kept 'Tinkerbelle' happy b y racing around with a bamboo stake which the kitten was happy to chase.
Today Emily was not here,but Tinkerbelle still visited. She was slightly amused by my gardening, but when I made it clear I was not fussed about her playing in the recently weeded soil, she got the huff and stalked off.
Until she found a bumblebee.
She then spent the next half an hour harassing the poor thing until it died.
Despite my well-known aversion to cute and cuddly kittens, I did find this amusing, so..........

Michelias

It is still late winter for vegetable gardeners. Most of the summer cropping plants are only just being sown – tomatoes and the like – and many vegetable gardeners will only start to think seriously about their garden in two months time, at Labour weekend.
For us flower gardeners though, spring has well and truly arrived. The daffodils are in flower or heavily in bud, and even the tulips are showing buds. The plum blossom is at its height, and golden forsythias are flowering everywhere.
In my garden my sweetheart is putting on a great show in her bed – and I do not mean the Head Gardener. I mean my Magnolia ‘Sweetheart’. This is one of the best of the hardy Magnolias, bred by the Jury family up at Tikorangi, north of New Plymouth. A few years ago Mark Jury showed me the original seedling tree of ‘Sweetheart’, now a large specimen in the standing out area of the nursery. It is certainly a spectacular sight with big beautiful bowl-shaped flowers held erect on the branches. The flowers are rich pink on the outside and pale pink on the inside. The tree is absolutely stunning, and a feature of our backyard at the moment.
Just as spectacular is a beautifully scented tree just around the corner from us. A friend who writes a very interesting blog about her children and her craft activities wrote about the tree, as she and her children had stopped to admire it on a walk. She called it a Magnolia, and I gently corrected her, telling her that it was in fact a Michelia, one of a large family of plants very closely related to Magnolias.
Imagine my horror when I went to look up for some information on a new plant I am considering planting in my garden, and finding that the botanists have changed their minds, and have now included Michelias among the Magnolias.
It is a good idea for gardeners too, as the differences between them seem minor And inconsequential for those who want to grow them. The most commonly commented on Michelia is the large shrub/ small tree Michelia doltsopa. This is a late winter/early spring flowering treasure, with large strappy white flowers (perhaps like a Magnolia stellata but bigger) with the most interesting lemony scent, which will waft across the garden on a warm day. The tree is slightly reminiscent of Magnolia grandiflora, and the fragrance is similar.
There are a number of forms of this plant, some of which are grown from seed and as such are uncertain as to flower type and quickness to flower. I think the best bet is to obtain cutting grown plants of the variety called ‘Silver Cloud.’ This is very floriferous from an early age, the shimmering flowers popping out of furry cinnamon buds.
This tree will eventually get up to ten metres in the right conditions, so make sure you leave it a bit of room, but it is a rapacious grower.

Asian greens

The long warm and dry entry to spring seems to have come to a bit of a halt, with a wet and cold weekend. I was recovering from a nasty head cold so I was only too happy to spend most of the time inside. I had some special seed delivered by a friend, which made me venture into the glasshouse, where I tried not to look at the huge crop of iris seedlings I have steadily germinating. I already have more than I can cope with, and they are still popping up through the soil. There will be some difficult decisions to make in the weeks ahead!
I also spent some time in the office in the main street, and walking around a back street to find some food for lunch, I came across a number of what appeared to be fish trays standing in the middle of a concrete yard behind one of those Asian-owned discount stores. I sneaked a look, and was surprised to see they were each filled with potting mix, and there was a rapidly-growing crop of an Asian green of some kind in each one. In the main they appeared to be one of the bok choy/ pak choy/ choy sum varieties, but there also seemed to be some Asian chives or garlic chives.
I was intrigued to see some a great little vegetable garden in miniature, and tried to talk to the proprietors of the shop about which varieties they were growing, and why they had chosen them above others, but I failed miserably to make myself understood. As a result, I am not absolutely sure which they were growing.
Bok choy and pak choy are perfect plants for growing in containers, as they need to be grown very quickly. They can be grown almost year round in New Zealand provided they are grown in full sun, and are kept well-fed and well-watered. In such conditions they will reach maturity in about six weeks. They are often available as seedlings in garden centres but they do seem to perform better if sown in situ rather than being transplanted – I have found the shift sometimes makes them bolt into flower.
They are a little prone to slugs and snails, especially when young, so make sure you protect them against these slimy pests.
Most Kiwis will have had some experience with eating these once exotic vegetables. They are sort of like a cross between a cabbage and a silver beet – if that sounds at all attractive – and are best suited to quick cooking techniques, like stir frying or steaming.
These green are members of the Brassica family, and as such are prone to the same caterpillars etc. in the summer season, but at this time of the year they should be relatively free from attack.

Lily of the Valley

There is something very satisfying about the hanging bells effect you get from the various plants that are called ‘Lily of the Valley’. From the tiny little ground-hugging perennials that most deserve the epithet, through to the various trees and shrubs that share the name in common usage, the appeal of the small white campanulate flowers is undeniable.
The true lily of the valley, Convallaria majalis, is a deliciously scented herbaceous perennial that favours shaded and cool spots. It belongs to the lily family and carries small rounded pure white bells on single flowering stems in spring, the stems arriving at the same time as the bright green leaves. The flowers are fantastic for picking - they last well in water and give their scent generously.
I have found this can be a funny character to get established in the garden. It seems to prefer semi-shade, and definitely likes deep, humus-rich soil, but even when provided all these, can still be temperamental about establishing itself. Perversely, once it is happily growing it will proliferate prodigiously, almost becoming a pest.
My mother had this charmer growing in a damp east-facing garden and it flourished, in the same conditions as Cannas and even the dreaded ginger lily, now declared a noxious weed. The garden was certainly very scented for much of the year, with a large tree honeysuckle, Lonicera fragrantissima, nearby as well.
I only have the pink form (imaginatively called ‘Rosea’) in my current garden, which is a bit odd, as it is nowhere near as vigorous as the white form. Now is the right time to find ‘pips’, as the dormant rhizomes are called in the trade, for sale in nurseries and garden centres. You should plant these ‘pips’ with the growing tips just showing and about 5 cms apart, in soil with added animal manure.

Which hazel?

I can tell spring is approaching – the first of the irises and daffodils are out. ‘August Gold’, a lovely dwarf daffodil with golden flowers managed to open on 31 July this year. I guess that makes it ‘31 July Gold’ this year!
I am excited to see these first spring flowers out, but I am less pleased to see another harbinger of spring – sex-mad ducks. At this time of the year the overspill from the nearby reserve cruise the neighbourhood, looking for likely pick-up places. They invariably for a paddle in our swimming pool until shoo-ed away. It must be time to get some sort of cover arranged I think.
A friend sent me a message about a tree she had found when out for a walk, and wondered if I was aware of it. She had spotted an upright growing small tree covered with creamy-white flowers, the branches arranged in a tier-like fashion. She was sure she recognised the flowers as being similar to a plant she grew as a groundcover at her back door, so she hunted through her notebooks to find the name. She came up with Loropetalum chinense. It seemed to her the tree might be a form of the same species she was growing, and she did what we all do nowadays when faced with such a dilemma – she asked Mr Google for his assistance. The tree and the ground cover were soon identified one and the same, forms of a Chinese species.
As it happened I was familiar with the very tree she was writing to me about, as it was growing in the garden of an old gardening friend of mine. His great delight was growing rare and unusual plants, and then bringing them down to the garden centre where I worked to see if I knew them!
This was one he could not fool me with. I had first seen a mature example of this tree in the Massey University gardens when visiting for a course one August. It is a late-winter flowering close relative of the old fashioned favourite Witch Hazel, and has similarly strappy petals, from which it takes its Latin name. In the wild there are both pink and white flowered forms, the white forms having the additional bonus of an attractive scent which seems missing in the pink.
The white flowered form is an elegant shrub which tends to be wider than high. Cuttings taken from lateral branches keep this sideways habit of growth and this trait has been fixed in the ground covering forms.
Over the past decade or so there has been a huge increase in the availability of the pink flowered and purple foliaged, forms of this plant, and the white flowered varieties, infinitely more subtle than their slightly raucous brothers and sisters, are much less seen.

Cool weather bulbs

At this time of the year a few fine days make all the difference to how we feel. After weeks of being cooped up in our houses it is really great to be able to wander around the garden, and maybe even accomplish a little desultory weeding. And there are always little treasures to be found as some plants seem to shake themselves out of their winter slumber at the first sign of any warmth.
It should not be a surprise that the snowdrops are among the first bulbs to appear, as their name gives an indication they flower in the middle of cold times. I have often seen photographs of Galanthus, the botanical name for these white beauties, flowering through a break in a European snow drift, but I have to say it is not something I have seen in real life in our more temperate clime.
Early this morning I snuck down to my garden through lawn-crunching frost, to see what the snowdrops in flower at the moment looked like with frost (as close to snow as I am going to get in Wairarapa) but the effect was rather disappointing. I was up earlier than the flowers – they have enough sense to stay closed up in the cold of the early morning, only opening when the sun is warmer later in the day.
There are relatively few species of Galanthus – only 20 or so – but there are many different forms and varieties which are especially popular in the Northern Hemisphere, where their hardiness and ability to flower when no other bulbs are out, is treasured. There is even a name for those who love snowdrops – Galanthophile!
By far the most popular species is the Common Snowdrop, Galanthus nivalis, This is a very widespread species, with wild populations from Russia across to Spain and Sicily. It is also found in the countryside in Britain but these plants are thought to be naturalised rather than naturally occurring. In the wild they mainly grow in woodland and alongside streams, an indication that they prefer humus-rich soil and do not like to dry out.
Florally all snowdrops are remarkably similar – they each have three outer petals that splay out when open, with a ring of smaller inner petals in a tube, each of these inner petals marked with a prominent green spot. There are variations on the theme – in some species the spots are almost contiguous – and many interspecific hybrids.
With some a small amount of variation to play with it is remarkable that plant breeders have played with these plant so extensively, but there are over 500 varieties registered, a truly staggering amount. I cannot imagine how anyone could say with certainty which variety is which without extensive knowledge

Polyanthus

Even in the depths of winter there are joys to be wrought from the winter garden. There are the subtle flowers of winter sweet and Daphne bholua, whose charms, very much in a minor key, would be lost in the cacophony of spring. There are the subdued colours of those under rated perennials, the Winter Roses, members of the Hellebore family. There are also the tiny bulbs that grace the coldest months of the year – the perky little Crocus chrysanthus hybrids, with their sparkling little flowers, and the joyous little reticulate irises, their bright flowers popping up among the grassy foliage.
Then there are the exuberant winter flowering bedding plants – the pansies, poppies, primulas and polyanthus – all of them valuable tools for bring a bit of cheer to what can be a drear time in the garden.
Pansies have been on a roll for the past decade or so, and have surely taken over as the prime flower for this time of the year, and they are deservedly popular. Be careful though – there are many dark forms and the flowers just seem to disappear among the foliage in these darker times of the year. Stick to the lighter colours – the yellows, the pinks and the light blues.
The bedding primulas, mainly forms of the fairy primrose, P. malacoides, are extra valuable as they provide a light effect with their tiers of small flowers. I would not be without some of the white forms in my garden each winter. Poppies I could not live without – their simple flowers also seem to be somehow sophisticated.
But polyanthus hold a special place in my heart. They are one of the plants I remember best from my mother’s garden, and over the years I have grown many varieties, both commercially and for my own fun.
They were originally bred from the simple yellow primrose that grows wild in the hedgerows of England, its light yellow flowers of good size held singly on each stem. It is likely the polyanthus is derived from the oxlip, a hybrid from a primrose/cowslip cross. The cowslip is also yellow flowered, but each stem holds a head of smaller flowers. The oxlip is an intermediate form, with flowers in clusters, each flower between the cowslip and primrose in size. Other Primula species have been involved in the complicated breeding of these winter treasures, resulting in a bewildering range of colours and patterns.
The strongest growing polyanthus I remember from my mother’s garden was the old pale yellow form with deep yellow throat. It was so vigorous the foliage almost looked cabbage like. It was not perhaps the most attractive colour but en masse it looked wonderful. It also had the delightful scent that only yellow forms seem to have.
The big breakthrough with polyanthus came with the introduction of the Pacific Giants strain, originally bred in California. They were uniformly large flowered, had a good range of clear colours and were great performers – for their first year. Perhaps they would perform as perennials in their homeland, but in anything other than the mild climates of California, they struggled to live through for a second year.
From there things only got worse, at least in terms of perenniality. The breeders took up improving Pacific Giants until they came to dominate the seed and bedding markets. Almost all the plants sold in punnets in New Zealand are Pacific Giants, usually from Japanese-raised seed strains. They are good, reliable plants, and you can be sure you will get a good garden display. The bigger garden centres will have these single colours if that is your preference.

PCNI seedlings

This is the time of the year I love. The Pacific Coast native irises (PCNI) – native to the United States, that is – are germinating.
It is always exciting to see the little children that one has carefully planned popping up through the soil. As always, I have far more seedlings than I can possibly plant out, so I will have to do some culling at the time I prick the seedlings out. At this stage, it is just fun to look at the grassy foliage of the new seedlings, and then come back here and look up the breeding books, that will give clues as to why particular crosses were made.
Just as importantly, this year’s divisions seem to have worked well too. I have been under some pressure to start naming and releasing some of my seedlings, as PNCIs are so difficult to find in New Zealand. I am keen to ensure they are plants that will shift well, as the PCNI have a bad reputation of not shifting easily. I divided my ten favourite plants, with at least ten divisions of each, about three months ago. So far, all seem to be going well, so I have my fingers crossed.

Yum, yum -yams and other oxalis

Unlike most gardeners, I have a love/hate relationship with Oxalis. Most of us have an out-and-out hate relationship with the many species of this widespread genus. We find them forever trying to take over our vegetable gardens by burying their many corms deep in the soil, or we find them steadily encroaching underneath the fence from the neighbours garden. Other species are persistent weeds in acid soils in lawns, while yet others make pests of themselves in container-grown plants.
So how could I have any kind of positive relationship with them?
There is one species I could hardly live without over winter – Oxalis tuberosa. This is an interesting plant from South America, where very many Oxalis species are found. It has the shamrock shaped leaves that many members of the family are blessed with, and it is a reliable grower throughout most of our region, although the tops are slightly frost tender.
It is, of course, the vegetable crop that most of the world calls oka, but which we Kiwis call the yam – not to be confused with the tropical crop that is also known as the yam.
As you might expect of an oxalis, this plant is relatively easy to grow, even though it does need a long growing season. The little tubers are best planted once the weather has warmed up, perhaps in late October or early November, at the same time we are all planting our other summer-growing tender crops. They are best planted in raised rows, similar to potatoes as they flourish in light, free draining soil. They are good feeders so it pays to work in some potato fertiliser at the time of planting, but they prefer a slightly acidic soil (you will not be surprised to learn, as they do, of course, contain oxalic acid) so you can go easy on the lime.
They need to be grown as long as possible; the bulbs are not produced until the night length is the same as the day length. They will require watering over the driest of our eastern summers, but seem to be relatively pest free. They will be ready to harvest when the tops dry off, usually in late March or April.
I have a small collection of some of the many decorative Oxalis species, largely in terracotta pots. At this time of the year the various forms of O. pupurpea are at their best. This is another South American species, from Chile, and is grown for its attractive winter flowers. There are a number of forms available in New Zealand. The one I like best is a purple foliaged variety (which I assume gave the plant its name) which I have seen described as ‘Nigrescens’ but I am not sure it is not the same forms grown in the rest of the world as ‘Garnet’. The deep leaves are wonderfully offset by the glowing pink flowers. These flowers are very difficult to accurately capture – they have a shiny gloss and the flowers always appear lighter in photographs than they do in the garden.
I grow two other forms of O. purpurea, with (oddly enough) green leaves, one with glowing white flowers, the other with shining pink flowers. There are yellow and cream forms of this species too, but I have not grown them.

Robinson Park

It has been an interesting gardening week, even though the weather has been terrible. These weeks with rain every day do not do a lot for the gardening spirit, but I did manage to get one or two important jobs done, none more so than my annual pilgrimage to a small local park. The reserve was named in honour of the well-known plantsman and plant breeder Laurie Robinson and his family have taken it upon themselves to rejuvenate it.
For some years the reserve was allowed to become slightly overgrown, and a jungle of unattractive trees and shrubs established themselves along the southern boundary. For four years the family had been cleaning the park up and replanting the fresh ground with a variety of native trees and shrubs.
I was delighted to be asked to be part of the team that does the planting.
One of my earliest horticultural memories is of Laurie Robinson spending an hour one Saturday morning, giving me a tour around his nursery and showing off some of his special plants. He took me into a secluded private area where he was bulking up some special red flaxes, the variety that was eventually released as ‘Ruby Dazzler’. It was nothing like the very modern flax varieties, with their mix of brown, pink, cream and yellow – it was purple leaved with a flash of red – sometimes. It was not the most stable of plants, and often reverted to just purple. I do not think it is on offer in any new Zealand nursery today.
I was thinking about my memories of Laurie as we planted another hundred or so shrubs into the embankment on Saturday. He would have approved of what we were planting, but many people would not be happy there was a fair sprinkling of modern cultivars among them. Many people would prefer that ‘native’ plantings were confined to naturally occurring species, and that no cultivars would be allowed.
Others go a step further, insisting that only ‘eco-sourced’ material should be used. Plants are only raised by seed, not by cutting, and the seed has to be gathered from the closest possible naturally occurring stand.
This is an important concept when you are considering revegetation projects, as there is considerable genetic variation between different strains of the same species. Some plants, kowhai being a great example, are very widely divergent throughout New Zealand, and they are also very promiscuous – they will readily cross with each other. If we used a west Auckland species, for example, in a major rural planting, we risk bringing a new set of genetic factors into the local population.
There are some examples of some plants that could have an influence on their environment. I am sure botanists are worried about the widespread planting of the strong-growing Renga lily, Arthropodium ‘Matapouri Bay’. This has successfully colonised the nursery industry and is planted extensively throughout much of the country. It will now be spreading its Northland genes through all sorts of other wild populations, perhaps changing them forever.
Having said all that, I am sure we are doing the right thing by planting cultivars into the rejuvenated Robinson Park. We are not undertaking a revegetation project, we are creating a garden and the hybrid Hebes, Coprosmas, and even the golden totara, all look in place.

A posy

I spent some of this weekend pruning my roses, and giving some of the flowerbeds a general cleanup, and as I went I picked a little posy of flowers for my office. I was pleasantly surprised at how much out in the middle of winter.
The Daphne bholua in the Head Gardener’s border is almost at the peak of its flowering. This is a Himalayan species that has only been commonly found in New Zealand gardens for about twenty years. The forms from the highest parts of the Himalayas are deciduous, especially in colder climates, while those from the slighter warmer areas of the mountains are evergreen. I have grown a couple of different varieties in my garden and both stayed evergreen in our climate.
If you are only familiar with the “common Daphne”, D. odora, this species will come as a bit of a surprise. Instead of the slightly untidy, sprawling habit of D. odora, D. bholua has upright growth and can reach as tall as three metres high, although our plants seem to have topped out at about two metres. It is a tidy growing plant with attractive foliage, not shiny and longer than D. odora. If you want to keep it lower growing, it responds well to being trimmed – it can be cut back harder than common daphne, which does not like anything other than a light trim.
The whiter flowers, tinged with pink, have a lovely scent, reminiscent of D. odora, but not as strong. I love having a sprig or two of it on my desk, whereas I find D. odora too overpowering in close contact.
The Head Gardener has another winter-flowering shrub growing at the feet of the daphne – Correa ‘Dusky Bells’.
The Correas are underrated little Australian shrubs. There are about 11 species, but there is a lot of variation among the forms and it is quite likely that a detailed survey would result in more species being attributed.
‘Dusky Bells’ is probably a hybrid between C. reflexa and C pulchella. It will grow to about a metre high, with a similar spread, although it is usually confined to a lesser height. It carries drooping carmine-pink flowers through winter and into spring, and is at least hardy enough to cope with our garden, where it gets its share of frost. It can cope with full sun – Correas were once very popular in pebble gardens – but probably does best with some shade. It will grow well in moist soils.

Ageing in the garden

There is a famous saying about old age - it never arrives unaccompanied. I think it usually means that as we age our physical health and strength deteriorate and we find it more difficult to do tasks we once thought of as inconsequential.
Ageing gardeners find this particularly so. Our backs, once strong and resilient, no longer enthusiastically embrace the thought of a day’s good digging in the vegetable patch. Even the idea of bending down for an hour’s weeding has them twitching. And the almost daily cycle of working in a large garden is simply too much for many previously active gardeners to contemplate..
Many older gardeners want to be able to continue when they downsize their properties and they come up with some clever answers.
Fred (obviously not his real name) lived just down the road from me, in a nice house with a large section – over a third of an acre. He came from the noble New Zealand tradition of gardening providers, his father being an enthusiastic vegetable grower. He recalled that this was commented on at his wedding reception, when one speaker said it was the sign of a happy marriage when the father was outside in the garden all the time, and not under his wife’s feet. (I must say I am not convinced about that – I recall one of our neighbours furiously turning over the potato patch whenever the domestic peace had been broached.)
Fred grew enough vegetables to make a dent in the family’s greengrocery bill (he and his wife has six children) by growing a good range of vegetables, although he forswore brassicas, claiming he could not bear the battle with white butterfly – a complaint I have a lot of sympathy with. He also grew a number of fruit trees.
He retired ten years ago. Shortly after that he suffered a bad angina attack, and decided it was time to downsize to a more moderately sized garden. He and his wife shifted into a town house, a short walk from the town centre. He now has two raised beds where he still grows vegetables, concentrating on potatoes, tomatoes, peppers and lettuces.
He also has some fruit trees, but not the large trees that once graced his large section down the road. This time he has two dwarf apple trees, and an espaliered pear tree. Like many of his generation, Fred’s big OE was after he retired rather than before he married. While he and his wife were in Norfolk he saw an avenue of ‘Ballerina’ apples, and was so impressed he decided he could look after a few of them in his new garden.
Fred also likes pears. On his OE he also visited Devon where he saw some ancient espaliered pear trees growing against a brick wall. This again inspired him and he bought a twin grafted tree, with ‘Red Bartlett’ and ‘Doyenne du Comice.’
Fred insists he is an ‘elderly gardener’, but someone who is prepared to take on new ideas in his retirement seems to hardly fit that mould.

Winter colour

The Head Gardener has been working her magic again. She has somehow managed to persuade the African Violet that has sat unflowering, on our kitchen bench for more years than I care to recall – more then ten I think – to pop up a flower spike.
To make the story even more remarkable, this turn of events has come from a large “cutting” she took some months ago. My parentheses indicate that this was far from a planned propagation – a large cluster of leaves fell off the aged plant when she was clearing the bench, and she popped it into a new pot, with some unused potting mix. I, of course, scoffed, telling her that African Violets took more skill than that to propagate, and that she was wasting her time.
In the time-honoured fashion of wives, she took delight in proving me totally wrong – the velvety purple flower being the proof of her advanced horticultural skills. Or her green fingers.
It made me think back to the time I was working in the retail side of the horticulture industry, and the large number of indoor plants we used to sell. Fashions have changed and ‘pot plants’ are nowhere near as popular as they once were – it seems few people have the time to take the sort of care special plants like maidenhair ferns require, and perhaps we have out houses a little warmer and drier nowadays., also making it slightly harder to grow many of the old favourites.
In many ways African Violets are great indoor plants for the not-too-serious gardener, as they are not very fussy about their growing conditions, even if they can be a little parsimonious with their flowers. They are small enough growing to be able to be kept on a window sill (or a kitchen bench) and they prefer to be kept slightly dry rather than overly moist, so a little forgetfulness in the watering department is not going to be punished.
They do not need a large pot – they seem to grow fine if their roots are a little constrained – although they do require a high potash fertiliser to keep them flowering happily.
The best way to water these plants is to fill the saucer the pot is sitting in until it cannot take any more water, then leave it until it has thoroughly dried out again before watering. Do not keep the saucer filled with water all the time – it will kill the plant.
The trick to keeping them flowering well is to feed them often – something we have been neglecting to do with our specimen. When each flush finished flowering, remove the old heads and then use a ‘flower and fruit’ liquid fertiliser. In extreme cases, you can put the whole plant in a dark cupboard for four or five days, and the shock will often induce flowering.
Or, of course, you can break it up and pot in a new mix!

Roses in winter

June has certainly got off to a freezing start – I do not think I can remember such a cold Queen’s Birthday weekend for many years. As gardeners, of course, we are a bit disappointed in the rapid chilling of the ground we work, but all this cold weather will hopefully result in a great benefit for gardeners when the new season arrives.
Surely the chilling will greatly help those tree that require a sustained period of cold during the winter to properly initiate flower bud formation, and with any luck the severe weather will have taken its toll on the pestiferous insects that can survive a warmer winter.
For some other jobs the cold weather has been a bit of a pain.
This is the traditional time of the year for planting roses, but the wet and cold has made planting just a little uncomfortable. There is still time though to get to work on preparing beds for new varieties, although the sooner the better.
Roses do best in fresh soil. If you have to replace a variety in an existing bed it pays to completely replace the soil with fresh loam – about a wheel barrowful per plant will be needed. This is because roses are very prone to a condition called ‘rose sickness’ – spoil that has already grown roses is almost toxic for some (but not all) varieties. As a matter of interest, some other members of the rose family (apples in particular) seem a little prone to the same problem.
Chose a nice sunny position for your new roses – they really do not flourish when planted in shade. There are, however, one or two varieties that do prefer a little bit of shade as the cooler temperatures will help stop the blooms from fading too fast. Even these varieties need to be planted in soil away from the competition of other plants, especially trees, as roses need good levels of fertility and moisture.
If you have not prepared the soil for fresh beds, make sure you get onto it straight away. The best soil is a stiffish garden loam, with good humus levels. Even then, I think it pays to add some farmyard compost (well rotted, of course) or bucketloads of compost. It is also a good idea to add in some general purpose garden fertilise too, then leave the soil to settle for a month or six weeks.
If you have bought your roses and the soil is not ready for planting, make sure you keep the roots well watered. In the golden days of the nursery industry we used to line out our bare rooted stock into beds of sawdust. They would be perfectly happy in that medium until the spring, when the few that had not sold need potting on into potting mix – or even better, into a customer’s garden.
When it comes time to do the actual planting, make sure to dig a big hole – not one big enough to squash the roots into, but a generously sized hole that will enable you to spread the roots out. I always like to have a slight crown in the centre of the hole so the base of the roots can spread naturally downwards. If the soil is dry (hardly likely this year) pop about half a bucket of water in the hole and let it settle before filling it with the soil mix, making sure to firm it lightly with the sole of your boot. When the plant is placed correctly, the union of roots and branches, where the named variety has been budded onto the stock, should be sitting at the level of the soil. The plant will have been sprayed in the nursery so it will not need any further care until the spring.

Beating the blight

One of the interesting imponderables facing gardeners in the next few years is going to be the fate of the much-fancied camellia. All flowers come in and out of fashion, and the camellia has certainly had its peaks and troughs of popularity. In Victorian times the heavily doubled, and intriguingly splashed, formal types were in favour, but in the 1970s and 1980s, more relaxed forms, with plain colours predominating, became the norm.
They once again became very popular with gardeners again. Their evergreen manner and the dark glossy leaves that look so attractive even when the shrub is not in flower, made them favourites with people looking for year round value, and a more easily maintained garden.
Then along came the dreaded flower blight and everything changed again. This horribly disfiguring disease is caused by a very virulent fungus and effectively destroys the beauty of the blooms by browning them. There is no sign of any effective control yet, and those who passion is growing camellias must be throwing their hands up in frustration.
For us general gardeners, who are faced with messy camellia bushes, there are a couple of little tricks we can do to help things.
I have read other garden writers talk about extra care with hygiene being a partial solution, but frankly, I think they are dreaming. The theory is that because the disease is soil borne, if all diseased flowers are swept up from underneath the trees and deep mulch applied, the spread of the disease will be halted, and some form of control attained.
I think the advice is at best hopeful, at worst misleading. The spores can clearly move in the air, as its spread throughout New Zealand was remarkably quick, so any thought of sweeping up all the bold flowers to keep the disease at bay is just fanciful.
The answer is to plant Camellia varieties that get their flowering out of the way before the disease starts to kick in, in August and September. The best varieties to go for are the sasanquas
These are derived from a species grown in Japan for centuries, valued for its white flowers and gentle scent. It flowers from early autumn into the early winter, although other types flower later in the winter, even into early spring.
They have a more open growth habit that the more familiar Camellia japonica and hybrids, with narrower leaves and willowy growth in many cases. They make wonderful wall shrubs, when allowed to splay out in one dimension, but some of the denser growing forms also make very good hedges.
‘Yuletide’ has certainly become the most popular of the reddish forms, with compact growth and a great display of single red flowers, each filled with a great boss of golden stamen. This is a very tidy grower, and although it is not the fastest growing of the sasanquas, it still makes a great hedge.

Going nuts

This season has been wonderful for feijoas. Our own tree has cropped well despite a fair measure of neglect, and a friend has kept our breakfast plates overflowing with enough large fruit to sink the muesli under a sea of milk. Delicious.
There has even been enough to make a few feijoa and walnut cakes. Fortunately we have also been given some fresh walnuts to use in the cake, as our small section could not harbour a walnut tree.
Two friends have given us walnuts, and the nuts could not be more different. One set of nuts are small and bullet-like – the second lot are large and easily crushed, with a large number of them filled with delicious meat.
Walnuts are among the most popular of nuts in New Zealand, and once upon a time, when gardens were all larger and people were more concerned with a higher degree of self-sufficiency, most backyards would have featured a large walnut tree. Maybe with the increased interest in home produce, we might see a swing towards growing walnuts, and other nuts, again.
The so called English walnut Juglands regia, (it comes from a wide stretch of Southern Europe and Asia but not England), is the most commonly planted walnut by a long way. It is a rapidly growing, ultimately tall tree, so some thought needs to be given to its placement. Your neighbours are not going to be too happy if you plant it along a fence line and take out all their afternoon sun!
Choose a deep, well-drained fertile site, preferably with some shelter from the worst of the spring winds, which will give the foliage a going over. If you are in a cooler area, make sure it is not planted into a frosty dell as late spring frosts will play havoc with the flowers, meaning little or no nut production.
There is some debate about whether it is important to choose a grafted tree or not. Some companies insist that seed grown trees will catch up with grafted varieties after ten years or so, while others insist that it is always best to go with a grafted form. The seed grown trees will be bigger, but they will take longer to crop and you will not be absolutely certain what the nuts will be like. On balance, I think it is best to pay the higher price and get a grafted tree. They will be quite a bit dearer, but a walnut tree is a long term investment.

Rosemary, I love you

I was trying one of my favourite winter meals this weekend, a roast leeks and fish dish from one of Jamie Oliver’s cookbooks. It requires the use of a few herbs, so I raced out into the wild windy and watery evening to grab a few sprigs of rosemary and thyme, only to find my rosemary was an ex-rosemary.
It was my own fault.
I had planted the trailing rosemary a few years ago, on the edge of an elevated garden bed, but I had planted it near a Magnolia grandiflora, which has grown in the interim, and now completely shades the area where my rosemary should have been. A self-sown kohuhu, Pittosporum tenuifolium, with small grey scalloped leaves, has also grown in the area, so my poor old rosemary did not have a chance really.
Rosemary, Rosmarinus officianalis, is a Mediterranean plant and needs full sun and good drainage to succeed well. In the past I have found they will flourish on the edge of elevated gardens, and will even survive in dry stone walls, as along as they are well watered during their establishment period.
Once growing they should need no watering or feeding, and will only require the occasional trim to keep them tidy. They are not predated by any insects that I know of, and will prove hardy down to more frost than you will find in our area. They make a great seaside plant, as the “marinus” part of their Latin name will let you know.
They are, of course, useful plants inside the house as well. Oil of rosemary is an important ingredient on Eau de Cologne, and it is an important ingredient of numerous culinary recipes. Sprigs are said to impart a lovely flavour to barbecued meat if they are thrown on the embers.
I will replace my one soon, and will probably use an upright one this time, in a different garden. ‘Tuscan Blue’ is probably the best erect form. It has rich green foliage and deep violet-blue flowers. It makes a rigid upright form, quite narrow when young, and as the branches sprout from the base, it can be used to make an effective hedge. .
‘Lockwood de Forest’ is a prostrate form of the above variety, with the same deep flowers and dark, narrow foliage. The other common weeping form, ‘Prostrata’, has much lighter blue flowers, and lighter green foliage. It does make an interesting mat, almost assuming bonsai like growth at times. It is fabulous for use among stone walls or elevated rock gardens.
There is a pink flowered form around, but the “pink” needs to be seen through rose-coloured glasses to be satisfactory. There is also a white flowered form, but the flowers are not clean, and surely the point of rosemary is that it is blue?
Some friends in the local herb society recently gave me a copy of a small book they have produced called ‘Herbal, Green and Practical Tips’, which is a useful compendium of useful hints and remedies – I guess it is the accumulated wisdom of centuries of gardeners. I looked in it to check something I was told when a child - that rosemary made a good hair conditioner. Sure enough, there it is in the book – use rosemary for greasy hair!
The book also recommends rosemary for use with lamb and chicken (not fish I noticed!) and a few leaves in a cup of tea are said to give a pleasant taste, and also help the memory work well (if you remember to do it of course) and aid the nervous and circulatory systems.
This was a not of much use to me – I have no rosemary bush at the moment.

Poppies

One of my earliest gardening memories is gathering poppy buds with my mother. She would carefully cut each stem with a pair of scissors, selecting those that were not quite open. The stems were then brought inside and the end of each stem scorched with a candle flame. I was always intrigued by the way the black hairs on the end of the stems were quickly consumed, while the stem ends were singed. My mother told me thr flowers would keep better in water if treated this way.
Perhaps that is why I have always had a soft sport for poppies. They have a bold simplicity of form, with their (usually) single bowl-shaped flowers, and often have subdued colour clarity.
The most popular poppies are undoubtedly the Iceland Poppies. They are derived from the wild short-lived perennial species, Papaver nudicaule, which occurs naturally in the high latitudes of Europe and Northern America. They are found in, naturally, in Iceland. In the wild they are only yellow and white, but over the 250 years they have been cultivated, a wide range of colours has been developed, especially into the deep orange and pink shades.
In the garden they tend to behave like biennials, although they can be kept a live for more than one flowering season. We usually plant them out in autumn for spring flowering. They do best in well-drained soil in full sun. They look fabulous in areas where the sun can shine through the translucent petals.
There are many varieties of Iceland Poppy available as seedlings, most very similar. I usually grow the older variety ‘Artists Glory’, which has a good range of different colours, with some two toned forms. If you are constrained for space, try the ‘Wonderland’ series, which has a similar range of colours but only grows to about half the size at about 20 cm. The flowers are correspondingly smaller.
There are, of course, many other poppies, some of which hold a special place in the hearts of the general populace, while others hold special places in the hearts of serious gardeners.
The red soldiers’ poppy has come to commemorate our fallen soldiers - a wonderfully evocative floral symbol of remembrance. It is the red corn poppy, which spread across Europe as our first ancestors moved across the continent with their cereal crops. The poppy came along for the ride as a cornfield weed.
Its significance as a remembrance symbol derives from the Canadian doctor John McCrae’s evocative poem In Flanders Field, where he draws on the way the blood red poppy bloomed on the killing fields of Flanders. This so moved one woman that she campaigned to have the poppy accepted as the official symbol of remembrance for the United States, from where it spread to Commonwealth countries.
The single red soldiers’ poppy can be bought for the garden, but its descendants, the Shirley poppies, are more common. These are the result of an observant English country vicar, the Rev William Wilks, who noticed just one flower with a white rim around the edge of the petals. He took seeds from this plant and grew them in his garden at Shirley, selecting for both colour and flower form until he had singles, doubles, and intermediate forms, in colours ranging from white and pale lilac to pink and red. Following generations have also been at work on this species (P. rhoeas) and have made the flowers much larger, until they now match the largest of the Iceland Poppies

Prickly pears

While we were walking around the Gisborne Botanical Gardens recently the Head Gardener and I came across a large cactus collection donated to the city some years ago. Much of the collection was housed in an attractive looking glasshouse, which was closed. I read that it is closed each weekend, which seems somewhat bizarre, but there you go.
There were a large number of prickly customers outside though, including some Opuntia species that were in fruit. When I pointed out the fruit to the Head Gardener, and told her my brothers and I used to eat them when we were children, she looked flabbergasted and a little horrified.
My mother had a small collection of cacti in a large built-in planter box alongside our living room window, in a warm, north-facing position. She always said it was to deter my father from coming home drunk, and as I can not ever recall him doing so, I guess it worked.
There were a couple of Opuntia species. These are the cacti with fan shaped leaves, covered with clusters of fierce spikes. One had “fish-hook” spines, each end tipped over to make extraction even more difficult. One of my uncles fell foul of this brute when he was painting our house and had to be taken to the emergency department to have the spines removed.
The other variety was similar to the species that is such a pest in the dry parts of Australia. When introduced to the large, dry expanses of the outback, these species thought they were back home in the Americas, and took off like wildfire.
Our specimen was hacked back periodically but still grew to the roofline. Each year it had an abundant display of single yellow flowers, followed by a good crop of what we called “prickly pears”.
These little fruit were covered in small prickles and needed careful handling, but they were filled with a crunchy fruit with a flavour reminiscent of water melon. They were packed with tiny black seeds. They can be used to make jellies and jams – even ice cream – but our culinary adventures were confined to eating the fruit raw.
With the trend to edible gardens that is sweeping the world, maybe we could all take up growing a crop of “prickly pears” to make up our “five a day” vegetable and fruit quota.
It is probably easier to grow some other pears though – either European or Asian pears are a lot safer to grow, and can be grown in a confined space without putting any of the family at risk!

Pomegranates

I think it was the poet John Keats who referred to autumn as the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness – a wonderfully evocative description of the time of the year when the sun’s powers diminish and the air cools. This cooling is usually accompanied by an increase in rainfall, but this year late summer and autumn have been marked by a prolonged settled and dry spell, nowhere more evident than on the East Coast of the North Island.
The Head Gardener and I made a trip up to Gisborne in the last week or so, stopping for a while in Napier. The fruitfulness was evident everywhere; Feijoa trees laden with their fragrant swelling fruit; mature persimmons hanging like Chinese Lanterns on trees with colour-changing foliage, and even ripening pomegranates.
Pomegranates are not the easiest of plants to grow in inland parts of New Zealand – they like cool winters and hot summers (which we provide very well) but they are also frost tender, and a good winter chilling will see them struggling.
We have sometimes grown the dwarf form, Punica grntatum ‘Nana Pleno’ in our gardens. This has double orange flowers, looking rather like a bright carnation and was once a very popular shrub, as its dense twiggy growth habit, and the summer-long smattering of flowers made it welcome in shrub borders. Today its deciduous nature has made it less popular.
The double flowered forms do not fruit – you need a single-flowered variety for that. In the Mediterranean, where this is a treasured fruit, the trees can grow to about eight metres high, and look spectacular when in flower. They are a challenge to grow well in New Zealand, but in a warm, sunny position in a sheltered area, where the frost will not be a problem, they should fruit well and given a normal East Coast summer – long and hot – they should have enough time to ripen.
The fruit should be harvested when it has turned bright red, and gives off a metallic sound when tapped. They will keep well at normal house temperatures – in fact, the flavour intensifies as they mature.

Sweet, sweet peas

I am not sure what made me think of sweet peas in the middle of Easter.
Perhaps it was the arrival of some special seed (not sweet peas!) from that doyen of New Zealand plant breeders Dr Keith Hammett. A friend generously shared some Amaryllis belladonna seed he had received from the good doctor, and perhaps it made me think of Keith’s work with sweet peas. I was also cutting back some Hammett-bred dahlias, and taking cuttings from some of his pinks, so perhaps that was what caused it.
Or maybe it was removing the last of the climbing beans from their frame. It may have spurred me to think about planting sweet peas along the frame as a crop for late spring/early summer. They have flourished on the frame in years past, although it has been a few seasons since I planted them there.
Then, of course, there was that wonderful edition of Country Calendar showing the Gisborne ladies who grow crops of sweet peas for seed, on contract to British seed merchants. The sight of row after row of gloriously coloured flowers might have been the trigger.
It could just have been guilt though.
I normally pick out some special sweet pea seed from one of the seed companies that sell by individual colours, and then sow them in the glasshouse on March 17. That date is easy to remember – it is the Head Gardeners birthday – so I nearly always remember. But this year, with lots of running around with other things, it slipped my mind. So I made a special trip to the garden centre to pick up some punnets of ‘Fragrant Cloud’ sweet peas and carefully planted them in the soil under the climbing frame.

Easter gardening

Northern Hemisphere friends often comment on how odd our southern Christmases seem. They cannot imagine a yuletide festival where the only branches burning are driftwood logs on the beach, under the shade of a pohutukawa tree, with sausages roasting rather than chestnuts.
I suspect they would be similarly bewildered over our Easter. For them it is a festival of regeneration and resurrection, where the community celebrates the arrival on new life, in the form of spring. Here we are almost completely in the opposite position. It is our harvest festival time, although we fill it with images of rabbits, chickens and lambs.
This Easter was even more confusing, with rumours of frosts, snow-clad mountain ranges, and four days of brilliant weather. I guess I would not have been alone in spending most of the time in the garden, doing some storage, some regeneration and even a little resurrection.
I had to attack a large clump of the wonderful Iris sibirica ‘Windward Spring’. This is a stunning blue flowered Iris, with grass-like upright leaves. It dies right away for the winter, but in spring sends up stately blooms, but I have been naughty, letting it alone for about eight years. That has meant it has not had the rejuvenation it needs to bloom as prolifically as it should. I dug the whole clump up (I needed and axe to break through it) then split it up carefully.
Gardening books often talk about using two garden forks, to break up clumps of perennials, placing them back-to-back among the clump, then wedging them apart, using the fulcrum.
Sounds like a good idea, but I can tell you it does not work for any strong growing perennial, such as this iris. It took a spade and a lot of effort to separate it all, replace the soil and fertilise it, and then replant a tiny fraction of the original plant. I bagged up some divisions for friends too.
I also took cuttings of some of the perennials I was cleaning up, including a lot of different Dianthus cultivars. These also get very woody of left alone, but they are easy to strike from cuttings at this time of the year. I simply take a piping. These are shoots cut from the plant at the second or third joint and inserted, close to each other, in a pot filled with pumice sand. They will strike within a three or four weeks, when they can be potted on. They will be ready to plant out in the spring.
I also took cuttings from my Penstemons, as, although they are best cut down later in the year, they have such wonderful wood for propagating at present. These are again taken as stems with about three or four leaf buds, and placed in pumice propagating sand. I do not bother with rooting hormone. I think the hormones really help those cuttings that were going to strike anyway, but have no affect on those that were not!
Last autumn I crossed some red Chilean bellflowers, Lapageria rosea with the exquisite white form. The seed set and germinated. I pricked out those seedlings this weekend, and also sowed some precious seed of new hybrid Amaryllis belladonna, from one of New Zealand’s best plant breeders.
All-in-all a very exciting Easter.

Apples ...

The Head Gardener and I had a very pleasant afternoon recently, walking through a well-established orchard that friends have planted on their lifestyle block on the outskirts of a Wairarapa town, crammed with apples, pears, peaches, nectarines, quinces, feijoas…. almost any hardy fruit you care to name, including more unusual varieties, such as medlars. It was a slightly humbling experience to walk among the many different apple varieties, choosing fruit to sample from those later fruiting types.
Any what types! Fruit glorying in a range of seemingly eccentric names – Kentish Fillbasket, Peasgood Nonesuch, and Merton Russett – and displaying a great variety of colours, sizes and – as we found out – flavours.
Not everyone is going to have the space and the inclination to grow such a wide range of apples but most gardens can fit in one or two varieties, either on dwarfing rootstock, or as espaliers.
I am a great fan of the Greytown fruit breeder James Hutton Kidd, who was breeding apples a century ago. His ‘Gala’ variety is in the background of most recent New Zealand varieties, so his work has had huge influence of the apples we export.
Among his once-popular types are a few that fell out of favour for a while, but are staging a comeback. ‘Kidd’s Orange Red’ is a reliable late-season fruiting variety, similar to Cox’s Orange Pippin, with a rich, aromatic taste with a good balance between the tart and sweet flavours.
‘Freyberg’ is a greenish-yellow fruit with hints of russetting, so it does not look the shiny red apples we have come to expect in supermarkets. But the fruit has a much more complex flavour than modern types, with nuttiness combined with sweetness. It ripens in the mid season but will keep on the tree developing further complexities of flavour.
“Laxton’s Fortune’ is a variety bred in England in 1904, but a famous nursery family. It has lovely colour, with red stripes over green/yellow skin with a little russetting sometimes. It has a lovely sweet flavour, again more complex the later it is picked.
‘Sir Prize’ has yellow green skin and tender flesh. It is an excellent keeping, late fruiting, ‘Golden Delicious’ type. It was one we were able to pick from the orchard, and both enjoyed eating.
If you want to keep yourself even healthier than the traditional “apple a day” will, try another surprise, ‘Monty’s Surprise’, a good crisp, late-ripening apple that is shiny red over light green. It has been shown to have enormous potential for prevention of disease, and is regarded as the best anti-cancer apple in the world. It was found as a wild seedling in the Manawatu, but is now available throughout New Zealand.