The accidental gardener

I can kill any houseplant in a very short space of time. Of course, I am not proud of that, but give me a scrubby barren patch of soil, and I immediately start planning how it could look with plants of my choice.

If I can afford the plants I would like, if I can get my body to co-operate without protest, and if I can find spare time when I am working on other projects and community things, as painting and writing is still part of life.

When we moved here, there were some beautiful native trees; a lemon tree and two apple trees. At the back, an expanse of grass and a raised bed which was scruffy and devoid of any plants, save a weed or two. The raised garden became my first challenge and by the end of that year I had my garden. I bought cottage garden plants, scattered poppies, and grew clumps of white daisies. My dream was soon a reality. With my English background I also grew lavender, hollyhocks, and delphiniums. Ground cover meandered about, and it was bliss.  Almost all the things I planted that first year or so survived and thrived. I hated the fact that the house had very few plants around it, so I had to have baskets and pots to soften the image, and clumps of lavender to brush past. I love the scents and the sights of growing things! We also tried growing beans and corn and carrots. Tomatoes just came up without out help.

But since those heady first days the battle has commenced. I grew a grey plant called wormwood, and it has often taken over; I have about five dotted around and the silvery fronds mock me as they grow so fast. Then there was the wayward honeysuckle which grew into a huge shrub and nearly covered the veranda. Daisies and a mallow plant grew like trees. I hate cutting things down and resist even when my husband tells me they should go. I was forced to cull some of the grey plants and a pink flowering shrub yet I have a sneaking admiration for the tenacity of some plants, like the burned Rhododendron which was seared in the bush fires; blackened leaves, yet still it flowered. I did a painting of it. The beauty of my haphazard gardening is I find things I forgot struggling in the jungle. So I nurture them like a beloved pet; I have a rose being nursed and a battle weary Jacaranda trying to force out some leaves in this cold place.

Yet, this year has seen the demise of so many of our trees; sadly lost about five and now have a huge cleared patch waiting for me. Two apple trees rotted at the base, and keeled over in the storms. I have plans and thanks to my wonderful daughter and a friend who helped, I have areas I can start again making into the beauty I see in my head. It might happen, I can dream as I look at gardening books and wish I could magically make it a reality. I love being outdoors, so I look forward to a long summer of work and pleasure. From my childhood I remember a poem that started, “A garden is a lovesome thing.”

It will be one day again.

Do you love to garden too?