Autumn glories

The balmy autumn has continued, much to the consternation of many farmers and gardeners. Warm and sunny days, and near frost-free conditions might be nice of you are on holiday or looking to relax, but it is starting to be a nightmare again for those who need some rain. The summer was moist enough to keep most east coast farmers happy, but there will be a few out there scratching their heads, wondering what happened to the autumn rainfalls. The same applies to gardeners – a weekend in the garden has shown me it is much drier than I had thought, and as I finished each section of the garden, I dragged a hose behind me to try and get some moisture into the soil.


As always, we will be looking at the bright side, thinking that a relatively calm autumn might be good for autumn colour, but the warm conditions will militate against that too, as warmer temperature actually lead to less colour. Has anyone ever travelled to Auckland to see the autumn display?

I caught the start of the autumn colour season while in Dunedin recently. High on hills at the northern end of town, the Dunedin Botanic Garden is a treasure for garden lovers, filled with all sorts of exotic treasures, set in well-tended gardens that I wandered through on a number of occasions. Near the end of our stay, I took my camera with me for a concerted walk through as many of the different gardens as I could.

I was not expecting the Rhododendron garden to be as interesting as it was, bearing in mind it was so late in the season. There was very little in flower, although there were some R. yakushimanum varieties flowering out of season, but the effects of the coloured foliage, a mix of maples and azaleas mainly, was outstanding.

These plants are both relatively easy to grow, and can usually be called on to give a good year-round display.

The deciduous azaleas are probably best known for their wonderful display of flowers in late spring – October and November – when their delicious red, yellow and orange displays are so eye-catching. They flower on bare wood (usually see later) so the flowers are displayed very prominently, and being late flowering they are also safe from frost.

These very hardy plants are probably not as popular as they once were, but they give an unrivalled display, and they are very garden friendly. They are hardy, pest free, easy to look after, and very long lived – what more could you look for in a shrub?

Botanically, these plants are Rhododendrons, and as such need a relatively acid soil, preferably also moist. They are shallow rooting, and they do need to be kept moist over the summer, so thin limey soil is not for them.

There are many varieties on the market and it is pointless for me to suggest any particular ones, but the New Zealand raised Ilam hybrids seem as good as any to me. If you are in the Manawatu area in spring, a visit to the Rhododendron gardens at Kimbolton will be enough to make a convert of you.

Edges and hedges

One of the difficult areas of the garden is the border lands – those awkward areas where the garden finishes and other elements of the environment start.  It can be the line between the garden and the lawn that is the problem, or perhaps the delineation between physical boundaries, such as neighbouring properties or a driveway or roadway.

In some situations an informal edging between the two environments works well.  In a woodland garden, for example, it looks great of the understory of planting gradually give way to a soft bark pathway, or even on the edge of quite hard planting, the effect can be softened by having sprawling plants that help blur the edge.  We have a wooden wall retaining an elevated lawn area, and have planted some trailing plants to help soften the boundaries.  Sometimes, though, you actually want a clear delineation between two different areas, and that is when formal hedging some into it own.

 I was recently in the extensive gardens of Larnach Castle, high on the Otago Peninsular, overlooking Otago Harbour and Port Chalmers – I was supposed to be visiting the castle itself, but the gardens held my attention for much longer than the building.  Even though it was late autumn and the garden was long past its summer splendour, there was still plenty of interest.

The formal gardens in front of the house have been cleverly designed to reflect and augment the severe Scottish Baronial architectural style employed in the castle, with very formal edgings in somewhat informally shaped beds.  The beds are extensively edged in box, with corner highlights of totara topiary.

There are a number of varieties if box hedging, all forms of Buxus.  The most commonly grown is English box, a relatively slow growing form.  This sounds like a less desirable trait, but you have basic conflict between the desire to have your edging looking as mature as possible, as quickly as possible, and the need to keep the growth under control once the plant has reached its desired height and width.

I would plump for English box, perhaps buying the more expensive advanced grade plants, which can be found easily enough in the trade. They will be four years old and perhaps 40 cm high.  Pop some fertiliser in the soil once the plants are well established, and continue to fertilise about twice a year.  It is essential to water the fertiliser in well as it will burn the foliage is just left sprinkled on the surface.

Little berried treasures

A recent trip to the South Island had many highlights, but one of the was an early Sunday morning stroll through the Christchurch Botanic Garden, looking and photographing the many horticultural treasures the garden contains. 
I spent some time conversing with another early morning riser in the Curator’s House vegetable patch.  He was, he delighted in telling me, a European, although he seemed to me to have a perfectly New Zealand accent.

His origin was a talking point as we discussed the flavour of the little New Zealand cranberries, Myrtus ugni, that were heavily in fruit.  He pinched a few of the bright red berries and chomped on them enthusiastically.  He said he was puzzled that I did not share his predilection for this Chilean native.

For those of you not familiar with this little shrub, it is a small growing evergreen shrub from South America, with small glossy dark green leaves that are spicy if crushed. In spring they bear small drooping white flowers which are followed by small pink to red fruit, which can be born from March to May.  They have a very peculiar fragrance and taste – something sweet surely, but underlain by a turpentine flavour. 

My fellow visitor insisted that I was displaying my British origins, and if I was European I would love the flavour, as the more sophisticated European palate prefers the slightly turpentine flavour of the berry.  I cannot say I was convinced, but being a basically affable sort of guy I agreed with him, and we happily went our separate ways.

The clever gardeners had used the cranberries as a hedge at the edge of the vegetable plot because it forms an easily trimmed barrier that can be kept relatively short, and will also not rob the garden of too much nutriment. This smart little plant will also look good as a part of a shrubbery, and I have even seen it used an espalier and as a subject for topiary.

Christchurch plants

I was standing at the counter in my local supermarket when a lady came up to me, asking me to identify a plant she had seen on a garden tour.  She did not have it with her and could only give a vague description – it was a perennial with blue flowers and did not grow very tall.  I was very confused at first, but then she gave me the crucial piece of information – the flowers were sort of everlasting.

I knew then what it was – but it took a bit of head scratching before I finally managed to dig the name out of the dark recesses of my mind – Limonium perezii.  It is not a plant I had seen for a few years, but at one time it was very popular.

In the late eighties there was a bit of a passion for growing everlasting flowers for the market, and lots of small paddocks were planted with row upon row of everlasting daisies and annual statice plants.  The fad did not last very long and the paddocks were returned to ponies, or perhaps upgraded to alpacas.

But the craze did engender a bit of interest in some of the more unusual members of the statice, including this intriguing plant, so I was intrigued to see clumps of this Canary Island native in a perennial border in a recent visit to the Christchurch Botanic Garden on a recent visit.

The border stretched along a long stretch from the museum entrance down towards the hot house, and featured a great range of cool climate perennials, as well as a few warmer ones.  It was long past its best, with lots of dead flower heads on view, but it still had lots of interest.

Limonium perezii is sometimes called Prez’s sea lavender, and is one of many valuable garden plants from the Canary Islands.  It has a woody rhizome, from which tough bright green leaves about 30 cm long, emerge, followed by a stiff panicle of flowers.  The flowers are small, with purple sepals and white petals, but they are carried exuberantly.  They look fine on their own, but even better when grown in clumps.  They associate well with other Mediterranean plants like lavender, rosemary and bearded irises.

As a matter of interest, these have slightly naturalised themselves in warm parts of California.  I do not think they would be a problem here, but I also know they are relatively easy to grow from seed, as I have done it!

There are many species in this genus but not that many worth growing in the garden.  The very best is almost impossible to buy in New Zealand – the wonderful pink flowered shrubby South African species I knew as L. roseum, but now called L. peregrinum. This grows to about two metres and with bright green leaves.  It is covered with panicles of pink flowers, which fade as they age.  It is very difficult to grow and not even easy to propagate, but it is a thing of rare beauty.  I grew some from seed gathered from a friend’s plant and was able to sell them all very quickly.

All the way from Amsterdam

When I say I have a mania for tulips I do not want you to get the idea that I have caught the obscure Dutch disease of the 17^th century and mortgaged the house, sold the car, traded in the Head Gardener and bought sacks filled to the brim with tulip bulbs.  Because things really did get that extreme in Holland at one time. The rarest of the varieties sold for 10 times the annual salary of a tradesman.  Assuming you plumber makes about $60,000 a year, that is $600,000 for one bulb!

Now I am mad about bulbs, and I love tulips, but that amount of money almost beggars belief.  And of course, it was not about the bulbs at all – the whole sensation was perhaps the first economic bubble.  As long as more and more money kept chasing less and less bulbs, the price was forced up, and up, until it all fell down in a heap.  Remind you of anything that has happened recently, with finance companies and house prices?
Still, we can count ourselves lucky because we can buy bulbs at a severely discounted price to 1637, and can afford to splash out and buy enough of these bulbs to make a solid effect.

Normally, I would be against the idea of bulk planting bulbs.  The flowering season is too short and if you get bad weather in the middle of that season, you miss out on a whole year’s worth of blooms.  But I am prepared to make an exception for tulips.  The effect of the massed plantings in the Wellington Botanical Gardens is genuinely amazing – even our non-gardening son was impressed with the display and wandered around taking photographs.

Tulips are relatively easy to grow and flower, for the first year at least.  They will have been grown in ideal conditions over the previous growing season, and the flower will have been formed and lock in deep within the bulbs.  All you need to do is provide it the right conditions and it will sprout forth for you next spring.

There are a few little tricks to bear in mind.  In our conditions it pays to plant tulip bulbs a little later in the season that most other bulbs.  They need a proper period of chilling before they will bloom properly, so it pays to buy pre-chilled bulbs, or to hold off planting until the season is a little cooler.  For warmer areas you can even plant into June, but I would think you would be best to get your bulbs in by the end of this month, or perhaps into early May.

Clothed in nakedness

Regular readers of this column will now I am a great fan of autumn.  I love the cooling temperature, I relish on the sweet scents and savour the mellow fruitfulness of the decay of the growing season.  And, of course, I love the bulb season.

When we think of bulbs in March and April we naturally think of the plethora of spring flowering bulbs, corms and tubers that are now gracing the walls of our favourite garden centres.  But there are other bulbs (and corms and tubers too) that prefer to flower at this time of the year.  The remarkable thing about so many that flower at this time of the year is that they are naked – naked boys and naked ladies are both abundant, clothed in nakedness.

The naked ladies are certainly the best known of the naked flowers, and at one time all gardens would have had a stand of these reliable autumn-flowering members of the daffodil family.  

Known for years as belladonnas, (literally 'lovely lady') the botanical name for this hardy favourite is Amaryllis belladonna, and it hails originally from that land of fabulous bulbs, South Africa, from the rocky and dry soils of Western Province. As such they are ideally suited for growing in well-drained sites in New Zealand.  They flourish in poor conditions, and when well-suited will rapidly naturalise.  I think the best naked ladies I have ever seen were in the convent garden at Hiruharama (Jerusalem) on the Whanganui River – surely an unlikely place to find naked ladies!

Most gardeners are familiar with the light pink forms of this robustly growing bulb, but there is actually a lot of variation among them.  I love the white forms, and have seen two quite distinct forms.  I grow a pure white, which glistens with icy whiteness, but there is also a warmer looking form with a golden throat.  Neither of these seems to be available in the trade under any specific name.

There are also a number of brighter pink forms, the best of which is possibly 'Beacon' which is almost cerise coloured.  Dr Keith Hammett, best known for his work with breeding dahlias, has also had a lick at these plants, trying to breed salmon toned forms.  He has had some success and some new varieties are in the pipeline.  A friend gave me some seed from his programme (thousands of them) and I have some seedlings in the glasshouse, but I expect it will be a few years before I see any results.

The autumn blues

I had the mortification of rolling over another year last week.  It really does seem that they steamroll through so quickly that I cannot keep up with them. 

Still, looking on the bright side, I do have my birthday at the right time of the year for a bulb-loving gardener, as most people know it is a very easy gift for me, and each year I get my share of daffodils and tulips.  Fortunately,  I manage to get a few of the more unusual types each year as well.

This year, for example, I was given a little packet of striped squills – Puschkinia scilloides.  These are dwarf-growing members of the hyacinth family, and are most closely related to the blue bells and Chionodoxa.  They are very hardy, originating in the eastern Mediterranean, and will cope with almost anything the New Zealand climate throws at them.  They are small bulbs – about the size of a Lachenalia – and should be planted in full sun to light shade, in generous clumps.  In the spring they pop up with little heads of cool blue flowers, each petal striped with a deeper band. 

In England, this charming little plant is used for naturalising, but I have not seen it used that way in New Zealand.  Perhaps it is too fragile to compete with our stronger-growing pasture.  It is best planted near the front of a flower border or in the rock garden.

The nearly-related Chionodoxa species are perhaps even more attractive, the blue tones often being clearer.  These are called ‘Glory of the Snow’ because they flower very early in the season.  They make great rock garden plants and also do very well in pots.  Like the striped squills, they will look their best when they are massed.

The best of these is C. forbesii ‘Blue Giant’.  It has sky-blue tipped white flowers, and shines in the garden.

Like the striped squill, this is an easily grown plant that will grow happily in a sunny position with humus enriched soil.  It will cheefully set seed as well, which can be sown in seed trays and will germinate over winter.  It is easy to quickly raise large numbers of bulbs this way.

These little plants are closely related to Scillas, a genus that seems to be always undergoing revision, with species joining and leaving at a remarkable rate.

Perhaps the best of these is the striking C. peruviana, the so-called Peruvian blue bell, although it comes from the Mediterranean, not Peru!  It is a large bulb with thick waxy leaves.  The flower heads first appear as rounded heads of stars but as they elongate the flowers open to violet-blue.  The flower heads will eventually become 40 cm long. 

There are a number of different coloured forms, ranging from the usual violet-blue through lighter blues to almost white. They are very hardy plants, flourishing in quite neglected areas while still flowering year after year.

Daffy for daffodils

It is too ironic for words. All season long we have been complaining about the wet, wet, wet summer we have been having, and now, the beginning of March when we expect some rains, it has turned mild and fine on us.


Everyone I know is grumbling about their tomatoes – it just been an absolutely awful year for them – and mine, although fruiting well, look like nothing on earth. The bottom leaves have fallen to blight, and the top leaves are thin and ugly looking.

As always, though, we gardeners are an optimistic lot, so we are all looking forward to having a normal summer (whatever that means) next year.

The sunny days of March have been matched with some cool evenings, no doubt pleasing the orchardists who need a big diurnal temperature difference to colour theirapples. It is also a pleasant reminder to the rest of us that autumn has arrived and it is time to start thinking about planting some spring-flowering bulbs.

One of the delights of gardening in our temperate climate is the wide range of plants we can grow and bulb season shows that up, with cold climate species and bulbs from warmer climes elbowing for space on the garden centre shelves.

For most of us though, spring bulbs begin with daffodils, and I guess there are many for whom they end at daffodils as well. For most the image of a daffodil is a large trumpeted variety, probably golden all over, but there is a wide range of varieties, with a surprisingly wide range of colours and a large range of sizes as well.

One of the beauties of the daffodil is that it will grow almost anywhere in our country. Perhaps if you are gardening in the more humid and warm areas in the north of the North Island it might be a little more difficult, but for most of us it is quite straight forward as long as one or two little things are borne in mind.

The first is to simply remember that these bulbs almost all grow in meadows in the wild – they are used to quite moist soil in the spring. That means they do not want to be waterlogged over winter, but they also do not like growing in hot, dry conditions either.

Secondly, they like a bit of feeding too.

So, let’s assume we have been down to the garden centre, or perhaps spent some time perusing the colourful fliers garden centres seem to specialise in, and you have been seduced by some colourful looking varieties. What do you do next?

Well, actually what you do is wait. Daffodils are best planted once the soil has cooled down a little, so perhaps it might pay to wait another month before planting out. It is a good idea to keep the bulbs in the refrigerator during that time as a little chilling before planting will help to promote better flowering in the spring.

Where to plant is the next question. The best place is a well-drained sunny site with deep soil. If possible the bulbs should be planted about 20 cm deep as daffodils require deep soil to feed properly. You can plant even deeper in light soils, as that will help keep the bulbs cooler.

It is a good idea to work some bulb fertiliser into the soil while planting. Make sure it is bulb fertiliser though, as it is higher in potash and contains less nitrogen. The lower nitrogen levels are important as this element promotes leaf growth at the expense of flowers, and also makes the bulbs more prone to disease. Do not be tempted to use a general fertiliser for your bulbs.

Feeling like a dill?

The first week in March is Herb Awareness Week, promoted by the Herb Federation of New Zealand.  Each year the Federation promote the herb of the year as chosen by the International Herb Association, and adds another three herbs of their own choice.

This year the international choice has been dill, a member of the vast Umbilliferae family, along with carrots, Queen Anne’s Lace and parsley.  It is an easily grown annual, looking superficially like fennel, but with blue-green leaves rather than fennel’s yellow-green ones, and lacking the distinctive aniseed scent of the latter.

It is best to sow the seeds in situ as the plants resent being moved, like most of their cousins.  They are spindly growers and might even need some twiggy framework to cling to us they grow, but once established they are self-supporting. They are usually grown in a succession of sowings, as they mature in about six weeks and a number of crops are needed to ensure a constant supply of leaves.

They are good plants to have growing in amongst others as they attract lots of insectivorous insects – the ones that will eat your aphids -  and the little umbels of yellow flowers are very attractive in a subdued way.

Dill is one of those classic herbs, more commonly used in Northern Europe than in the Mediterranean areas where it is supposed to originate.  The leaves are best snipped and chopped very finely, before being added to fish dishes in particular.  The leaves are best harvested shortly before flowering as they will be at their strongest then.

Once flowering has occurred, the plants should be left alone to ripen the seeds. These are used us a flavouring for pickles, in particular for small pickled cucumbers.  I have a friend who makes some pots most summers, and lets me have a jar if I am especially nice to her – and they are delicious

It is also said to have some medicinal properties.  If taken at bedtime it can help sleep, as both leaves and seeds have a mild sedative effect.  It is also meant to be great at getting rid of the hiccoughs!

Dichroas at 'Woodleigh'

Last week I wrote about a recent visit to the Taranaki garden of author Glyn Church. ‘Woodleigh’ is situated just north of Oakura, near another nationally significant garden, ‘Ngamamaku’. ‘Woodleigh’ is home to Glyn’s extensive hydrangea collection, and during my visit we spent some time looking at some of his favourites among the many species and varieties that make us this large group of plants.


The first plant we saw was a very large specimen of Dichroa versicolor. This shrub from China has become quite well-known in the past few years, and is sold under a variety of names – usually with “blue” at the beginning.

I have always known it to be a relative of the hydrangea, but Glyn was able to shed a little more light on its history. He told me he introduced it to New Zealand, and had it growing in his garden for some years before it was released to the market. From there, different nurseries picked it up, giving it varietal names. It is an evergreen shrub with bright blue flowers from early summer into the autumn. The bright blue flowers are fertile, and carry berries in the autumn.

One year he noticed some seedlings in his garden, which he grew on until they flowered. Once they flowered he formed the opinion that they were actually crosses with a Hydrangea, and kept careful notes of the various hybrids he had. He spoke at a Hydrangea conference in Belgium (yes – there are such things!) about his discovery, and was intrigued to find an American nurseryman who has raised many hybrids between Dichroa and Hydrangea, and never succeeded in breeding anything as colourful as Glyn’s seedlings. It turns out, too, that the plant we have been growing as D. versicolor is in fact a hybrid itself, first found by the plant hunter Robert Fortune in a Chinese nursery.

As we walked around the garden, Glyn showed me the plant he considers the best of his hybrids – one called ‘Cambridge Blue’, and it is a lovely big flowered hybrid.

Work will continue in these crosses, as they offer the chance of evergreen hydrangeas that are able to grow in full sun, as the Dichroa does.

'Woodleigh Garden'

The gardens of Taranaki hold a great allure to those of us who garden in the east. The extra rainfall and increased humidity, and the generally more temperate climate, make Taranaki home to many famous gardens, gardeners and nurseries.

My forays to explore this wonderful horticultural region have almost always been undertaken in the spring, usually in conjunction with the fabled Rhododendron festival.

There are 32 gardens of national significance in New Zealand – 10 of them in Taranaki. Until last week I had visited 9 of them, so I thought it was about time I saw the tenth, Glyn and Gail Church’s ‘Woodleigh Gardens’, just north of Oakura, on the Surf Highway. This is a fabled garden among hydrangea growers, as Glyn Church is a work acclaimed authority on these shrubs, and their allied species, and unlike most Taranaki gardens, has a summer emphasis.

It was very hot when I called in, and I was glad to sit inside with Glyn, at the dining table, overlooking the extensive garden, to chat for a while before venturing outside

In front of the house, overlooking a large pond, was a hedge that looked at first glance like box, but closer inspection revealed it to be mature forms of the native scarlet rata Meterosideros fulgens. In the wild, this clambers up through the canopy until it reaches the light, and then flowers in the upper storey of the forest, usually red but sometimes yellow. The form at ‘Woodleigh’ was a lovely burnt orange.

Two other rare plants in the top garden took my eye. The first was a Canary Islands Foxglove, Isoplexis canariensis. This is a woody perennial that makes a stand of deep green, serrated leaves, topped for months on end with brownish-orange trumpet shaped flowers in tall racemes. I grew this plant from seed many years ago, but it clearly thrives much better in the nearly frost-free ‘Woodleigh’ than it did for me. Glyn told me it has another great attraction for him – the bell birds love feeding from it.

Near by was a large perennial growing Cassia species I had never seen before. Glyn told me it was C. didymobotrya, an African species he grew from seed, and had been unable to propagate again. It does not grow from cuttings and does not set seed in his garden. It has upright stems of bright golden flowers, as you would expect from a Cassia. It grows exuberantly, covering a few square meters. No lean and hungry look to this Cassia!

‘Woodleigh’ is a garden well worth visiting. Glyn is a generous and affable host, and the hours I spent walking around the garden with him were marvelous. Next week we will take a closer look at his collection of hydrangeas.

A 'Naki road trip

Tuesday started out with a leisurely run along the spectacular coastal walkway in New Plymouth.  This is a stunning track that snakes around the edge of the coastline from the Waiwhakaiho River down to the port, about 6 kms in all.  I ran from one end to the other, then turned around and went back! 

It was a calm, still, warm morning, with lots of people out walking, running, biking and even a few swimming.

I raced back to my motel in Inglewood, and set off on my overland adventure, along to Stratford then onto the wonderful Forgotten World Highway, which snakes through the Taranaki hinterland, through dense rain forest, past Whangamomona and out into 'tiger country.' 

A detour along a narrow country road led to the Mt Damper Falls - all 85 metres of them.  The drop is huge but the summer flow was not so dramatic. 

Still, I am very glad I called in to see it, as I saw one of my all time favourite plants, Parataniwha, Elatostema rugosum, growing in the wild.  I love this native herb.

I then headed further into the wilds, along a rollercoaster road, eventually joining SH3 just to the north of Mount Messenger. I followed the Tongapuroto River north until I reached its mouth.  I parked up and walked looking at the remarkable effects of the sea on the landscape, including the popular 'Three Sisters" - although there are now only two and a bit!

I found a dead crab, stranded in a sea cave.  It took some imaginative use of the camera's time exposure to get these slightly odd pics.

Hunger forced me to hit the road again, and I ended up eating lunch in Waitara at about 4.00 p.m.  While I was eating I looked through the local newspaper and saw that Central Districts was playing a cricket game at Pukekura Park, so I scooted along and watched that for a while, before detouring up to the North Egmont Visitors Centre on the flanks of Mount Egmont/Taranaki on my way back to the motel. 

I found this littrle chap sitting on some grass.  This was taken with a 70mm lens, so you can see how close I was able to get to him!

In the 'Naki

Monday saw me headed north for a few days. I called in at Marton on my way, to catch up with a couple of cousins. Wally, New Zealand’s biggest second hand bookseller (him, not the store) was complaining about the lack of business, while his sister PJ looked frazzled beyond belief as she served me a coffee at her shop.


I pushed on to the outskirts of Oakura, where I spent four delightful hours in the garden with Glyn Church, a world-renowned hydrangea expert - more to come on that visit.

In the evening I backtracked a little and went to have a quick look at Parihaka – a very sad sight (and site). I parked on the side of the Hangatahua River (known to pakeha as Stoney River) near Okato.

I then pushed on for New Plymouth, where I wandered around Pukekura Park, taking photographs until then light had nearly gone.

Such a great day.

Waitangi Day and a bit of time off

My annual leave has built up so much that the people over at corporate services are starting to give me the evil eye, so I am taking a week off. In order to take this time off I am working all weekend.

Well, not quite as mad as it sounds. I had a speech to give on Waitangi Day, to a group of descendants of one of our founding families. The twenty minute speech went down well – it took me over 90 minutes to get away. Various family members wanted copies of the presentation, so that was uber cool.

In the afternoon I worked at the archive until 4.00, and then went over to the park for the town’s Origins Festival, a celebration of our cultural diversity. A couple of organisations I am on the board of (New Pacific Studio and Arrow FM) were there, but my little adopted grandchildren Emily (nearest camera) and Summer were there too, and I spent most of the time with them. The local newspaper caught me helping them decorate some sheep for an upcoming celebration of the 50th Golden Shears competition.

Outsmarted - and still smarting

My best laid plans for tricking the little girls that frequently visit our garden have gone astray. You might remember that I reported in the spring that I had sowed some purple carrot seed to try and catch the girls out when they went bandicooting in my vegetable patch.

They were in the garden today, relaxing after having a swim. I nonchalantly mentioned that they could have some carrots if they liked, and the younger one enquired if they were purple or orange!

They are obviously far too smart for me, but I did manage to extract a kind of revenge. They had ridden their bikes around to our house so I offered to accompany them home – and took them on a large detour to photograph some climbing plants. It involved ascending a long but not excessively steep hill, but it was too much for the younger girl, who resorted to pushing her bike part of the way. She turned the tables on me as we neared home, streaking past and screaming with delight as she beat me to the front gate.

So what were we looking for on our ride?

My first mission was to photograph the hardy “Chilean Jasmine”, Mandevilla sauveolens. This is one of the very few hardy climbers with large white flowers, and can be relied on to flower for months over the hotter part of the year. It is deciduous (that is how it copes with cold weather) but clothes up early in the spring and looks great for the warm months.

It is not actually a jasmine – in fact, it is a member of the Oleander family, and like many members of that group, it has a degree of toxicity. Garden books vary enormously on this issue, most saying it is only so to a minor degree, and a lot of leaves would need to be eaten before it caused any problem. It does have sticky white latex which can be a skin irritant for some people, but do not let these things put you off having this plant. It grew for many years along a trellis in my grandparent’s courtyard, and I never heard of it having any ill effects on anyone.

When we got home , the girls proudly took me around their garden, showing me the strawberry patches (two!) asking whether berries just turning pink were ready to eat. We looked at passion fruit, broccoli, pumpkins, tomatoes, sweet corn and capsicums.

Then the younger girl took me down to the darkest corner of the section to show me a bright white flower growing on a tree. Only it was not on the tree. It was on a climber that was twining through the tree. It was, of course, a Chilean jasmine.

By the time I biked home I felt quite depressed -completely outsmarted (and outbiked) by a nine and an eleven year old - and secretly pleased they were so interested in the garden!.

Lavender scents

I have had a bit of a surprise this summer – if “summer” is what you can call it. I had always imaged the aromatic woody herbs – lavender, rosemary, sage, thyme – would release their essential oils best on very hot days.

I had visions of strolling through dry Mediterranean landscapes, crushing these small shrubs as I wandered by, surrounded by olfactory delights.

But it seems I might have been wrong.

Most days I cycle to work past a large bed of English lavenders, lining a pedestrian crossing, and this wet, soggy and thoroughly annoying summer, the plants have more scented than I have ever noticed before.

It just seems so incongruous.

All the garden books advise planting these shrubs in a very sunny, well-drained site, but there these plants are, thriving in a soggy summer, and flowering and “scenting” very well. It is so confusing!

There are, of course, a great many different types of lavender to choose from, and perhaps it is just this one variety that is heavily scented in the rain.

Most lavenders fall into one of three distinct groups: the French lavenders, derived from Lavendula dentata; the Spanish or Italian lavenders, L. stoechas, and the “English” lavenders, (that do not actually come from England) L. angustifolia.

In general terms, the French are the largest growing varieties, with long stems and toothed leaves (hence the “dentate” part of their name). The Italian and Spanish varieties are smaller growing, and have lovely soft grey foliage. The English hybrids are usually the smallest growing varieties, with finer foliage and daintier flowers.

The French types are not planted as often as they would be if they were smaller growing, as they end up too big for most gardens. You can still buy them for hedges, but they will grow up to two metres tall.

The “stoechas” varieties are now the most numerous, and it seems there are new varieties on the market each year. You only need to grow a few of these, and have them start seeding, to quickly realise how variable they are from seed, and how easy it would be to start selecting for different flower types and growth habits.

Perhaps the best one for New Zealand conditions is the Invercargill-bred ‘Marshwood’. This has lovely deep purple flowers with extended dusky pink ‘ears’. This is a very reliable variety, and is now grown in many parts of the world. There is an even deeper form, a seedling from ‘Marshwood’, called ‘Hazel’ that is worth looking out for.

There are many different colours and shades among these plants, with green, pink and nearly-white forms popular over the past year years, and they seem to come and go at a bewildering rate. One I am sure will be around for a while is the intriguing little ‘Bee Happy’, which has violet blue flowers with pure white wings, or ears. There are others in the ‘Bee’ range – ‘Bee Bold’ has dark purple flowers topped with purple wings, while ‘Bee Sweet’ has purple flowers with light pink wings. They are cheerful additions to the ranks of easily grown shrubs.

At last - the true Geraniums

For the past couple of weeks we have been taking a look at the plants most gardeners call “geraniums”, although they are in fact members of the closely related Pelargonium genus. These are the showy succulent perennials, largely from South Africa, that grace most New Zealand gardens, usually placed in dry, sheltered areas where other most plants struggle.

There are however, many very useful plants among the true Geraniums, and they are met with much more infrequently, despite being colourful, long-lasting perennial plants.

One of the best of these is the delightful Geranium maderense. This is a slightly frost tender perennial from Madeira. It has large pinnate leaves which have a tropical feel. Each plant forms a large dense clump up to metre in height and diameter. The flowers only appear after two or three years, but the floral effect is well worth the wait.

A huge stem appears in the middle of the clump, rapidly expanding until its many branches hold hundreds of bright magenta pink flowers, each with a contrasting deep maroon eye.

Unfortunately this wonderful perennial is a short lived one – it tends to be monocarpic and after its one and only flowering, it dies. Fortunately it is a prolific seeder, and a crop of seedlings will soon appear underneath the old plant. These can easily be transplanted.

As it is a touch tender, this plant will do best in a protected but cool area – under light shade suits it well. It flourishes among the Rhododendrons, bog primulas, hostas and maples of Taranaki, where it is almost a weed at times.

Not all the species are as tall as G. maderense, and among the smaller growing forms there are many that are ideally suited for the front of a mixed border, and as ground cover in sunny areas.

One variety we have grown for many years is Geranium clarkei ‘Kashmir White’. This

plant will grow in full sun or partial shade with stems can be as tall as 50 cm. The pale flowers, which are 4-6 cm across, appear pink rather than white, because of the pink veining in the petals. There is also a purple form of this species. You will not be surprised to read it is called ‘Kashmir Purple’.

When I first stared gardening the most common of the small true geraniums was probably the “Bloody Cranesbill”, G. sanguineum, its Latin name reflecting is common name, or vice versa. Its names, apparently, have nothing to do with the colour of its flowers, which in my experience are a lurid magenta pink, but rather the red colours the leaves take in the autumn.

It is an attractive plant all year round, in or out of bloom. The foliage is usually more distinctly cut than other geraniums, giving it a delicate appearance. The typically cup-shaped flowers can come in shades of pink, magenta and white, and give one of the best bloom displays of all the geraniums, the flowers can completely hiding the foliage.

If you are sick of the once fashionable white flowers and are looking for a garden to suit the more Goth-like members of your family, G. phaeum is just the thing for you. A medium sized plant with leafy foliage, this species comes complete with nodding flat flowers in a sombre purplish-red colour – almost black enough to satisfy the most angst-ridden teenager!

It prefers shade or semi-shade where it will make a good ground cover.

More sort ofs........

Last week I wrote about the much neglected zonal pelargoniums, or geraniums as most people call them, inspired partly by the wonderful flowering season they have been having this year. I confess I have even squirreled a few cuttings from plants I have seen growing too close to the footpath. I will undoubtedly end up with more plants than I can use, but there you go.

I have always had a fondness for ivy leaved geraniums, with their slow trailing (or climbing) growth habits making them very useful in many parts of the garden. The more vigorous varieties can be allowed to climber up a trellis – we have a passionately shaded deep red form (it is almost black actually) sliding up the outside of the glasshouse – while the less vigorous varieties can be left to feature in hanging baskets.

There are many varieties, in all the usual pelargonium shades, as well as a few with very decorative leaves. One of the best of these is the old variety L’Elegante with grey-green leaves, each with a white edge that turns pink if the plant is kept somewhat dry. It has single white flowers which bloom in clusters.

Each nursery seems to produce its own branded series of ivy leaved pelargonium, so it probably pays to buy them in flower.

Regal pelargoniums are the flashy brothers to the zonals – a bit less hardy, but with larger flowers in a wonderful range of colours.

In the inland parts of Wairarapa and Hawkes Bay these need a little cosseting – they really do not like frosts and need to be kept protected over winter – but in warmer areas, and especially coastal areas they thrive, giving generously of their abundant flowers through summer.

These almost shrub like plants have been derived from strains that were originally predominantly lilac and purple, and were taller and stragglier in growth. Sometimes you will see a variety like this in an older garden, usually growing fairly wild.

Hybridisers have got to work on them improving the growth habits, and greatly improving the flowers. Today it is possible to find straight colours in almost all shades of red, pink and purple, and in many cases the flowers are blotched or feathered with wonderfully contrasting colours.

These guys need similar conditions to the zonals – good drainage, plenty of water during the growing season, and the occasional tidy up to keep them in shape. Apart from that there are few problems growing these beauties.

Geraniums- well, sort of....

Some plants just do not get the respect they deserve. Perhaps they are too easily grown, and maybe they are too closely associated with working class gardens, but some plants are never given the credit they deserve, and are not planted often enough nor thoughtfully enough in our gardens.


Perhaps the best example of that is the poorly regarded zonal pelargonium, more usually known as the bedding geranium. This free flowering, summer blooming succulent-stemmed shrub is very popular in many parts of the world, but here is relegated to municipal bedding schemes and the like.

It  is a travesty as this wonderful plant has any amount of colour, it is drought and wind hardy –not so keen on frosts of course- and is as reliable as anything through the summer. In some more northern areas of the country rust can be a problem, forming on the undersides of the leaves, but this far south it is nowhere near as bad a problem, and zonal pelargoniums are unlikely to be bothered by too many diseases.

There are many thousands of different kinds of this adaptable and versatile plant, some grown for their colourful leaves –the “zonal” in their name refers to their leaf markings – others for their brightly coloured flowers, while yet others are treasured for their exquisitely shaped flowers.
Perhaps the most commonly seen forms today are the seed raised varieties offered for sale in garden centres and supermarkets. These are raised from very dear hybrid seed, and have been developed overseas for the potted plant trade. In most of Europe and America, these plants are largely grown to be planted out for a season then discarded. Traditionally the bright red forms are the most popular – often planted out with white petunias and blue lobelias to give a very patriotic garden - but the hot pinks are also very popular today.

One colour that has been taken up with fervour by some local councils is the “orange” strain. This is not orange really, but is an orange-ish form of scarlet, and is very effective in the garden. I have seen it bedded out with greenish Nicotiana plants, and the beds work very well. This would also work a treat if you had a terracotta planter or wall to work with.

Just because these are raised from seed does not mean they cannot be kept going from cuttings. Most of you will know that these plants are ridiculously easy to strike. I just snap a stem at a node, and leave it in a shady place for a few hours. This allows the cut area to form a little callous, which stops it from rotting before it can root. Then I just pop the cuttings into a sharp potting mix – I usually add some pumice to a standard mix – and watered well. They will usually have rooted after a week or two.

I was recently visiting as gardening friend, who always has a wonderful collection of unusual and choice plants to see, and she gave me a cutting of her scarlet red rosebud form, which is now happily setting roots in the glasshouse. My favourite among these, though, is the eye-catching “Apple Blossom Rosebud”, which has extremely full flowers which have a greenish centre, white petals and bright pink edges.

Those Peruvians again

A bit of a break over Christmas and the New Year saw me wandering the streets, taking my early morning constitutional, peeking over the tops of fences as always, seeing what is happening in other people’s gardens.

One thing that stood out was the number of gardens with a mix of old and new Peruvians splashed around the garden - Peruvian lilies that is. These are Alstroemerias, named after the Swedish botanist Baron Klas von Alstroemer who collected seeds on a trip to Spain in 1753. They were from plants collected by Spanish explorers in South America, and must have excited him with their bright, almost gaudy, flowers, and their very tough perennial nature.

My first experience with these flamboyant lilies was in my grandparents’ garden, where plants threaded their way through some of the abandoned beds. These large island beds, once home to big collections of perennials, had been allowed to revert to shrubberies, but various very hardy perennials remained. The ones I remember best were orange to gold Alstroemeria, as they had colonised the beds and gave a bright display each Christmas.

There are about fifty species of Alstroemeria in South America, in two broad groups – a summer growing cluster of species from Brazil, and a winter growing group based around eastern Brazil. My grandparents’ flowers would have been forms of the Chilean species, A. aurantiaca which has bright yellow flowers, usually spotted with maroon. It grows very readily in any free draining soil – perhaps too readily actually, as it becomes overcrowded quite quickly, and then sets out for pastures new. It is not a great problem to control, but it can be a bit of a pain.

I also remember the intriguing species, A. pulchella (also called A. psittacina) which has a similar growth habit to the foregoing, but also has the most intriguing narrow trumpet shaped flowers, in green and red. It looks very entrancing, but this is far too energetic for anything other than very hard conditions. Given a free run, this will – well, run freely.

I had quite a battle with this for a couple of years in a free draining, elevated garden, but did eventually get it under control. This weekend I noticed it in a town garden, growing in quite dense shade under some trees, where it had wandered a little but did seem to be largely under control.

These species, and hybrids derived from them, were very popular cut flowers. I remember my grandmother filling vases with these bright lily-like gems. They lasted well in water and brightened up the house considerably.

For commercial growers they were not a great crop as they had a restricted flowering season, until the 1980s, when a group of America plant breeders decided to take matters in hand, and crossed the winter flowering types with the summer flowering forms, and succeeded in establishing a totally new type of Alstroemeria which was more or less evergreen, and which flowered for long periods each year.

Further breeders saw the potential for using these plants in the garden and in the potted plant trade, and concentrated on reducing the stature of the plants and removing the aggressive spreading trait. The first of these new varieties started appearing perhaps fifteen years ago, with willowy growth and smallish flowers. Work has continued and now there is a great range of smaller growing plants with stocky growth habits and relatively large flowers. I have some clumps that are ten years old and only about a metre across. I cannot imagine a summer garden without a display of these South American beauties.