The Australian Women's Weekly

Community garden:

While grieving following the tragic death of the love of her life, Wendy Whiteley threw herself into a personal quest, a secret garden for the community. Now she wants to ensure the future of this very special haven, she tells Juliet Rieden.

- PHOTOGRAPH­Y SCOTT HAWKINS

Wendy Whiteley’s harboursid­e oasis

Loss is a powerful thing, devastatin­g and allconsumi­ng, but it can also be an inspiring force for renewal and adventure. At least that is what Wendy Whiteley discovered when, following the death of her soul mate, iconic Australian artist Brett Whiteley, she threw her emotion into transformi­ng an overgrown valley of scrubland, lantana and mounting rubbish into a magical secret garden.

That was back in 1992 and more than 25 years later the garden, which sits on public land stretching out below Wendy’s home in North Sydney’s Lavender Bay and rolls down to the harbour, is a cherished haven for locals seeking tranquilli­ty amid nature, and a new tourist destinatio­n for art and flora and fauna aficionado­s. Indeed, on the day of our photo shoot, a tour group on bicycles led by a plucky American guide were delighted to spy Wendy in situ, and began eagerly snapping photos of the garden’s famous matriarch.

This land used to be derelict, a dumping ground behind a disused railway, overgrown and abandoned. But Wendy saw beyond the chaotic weeds, twisted roots and rubble – she saw “an incredible space” and poured her broken heart into transformi­ng it.

When Wendy and Brett first bought their Lavender Bay home in 1974, they were drawn to the majestic Moreton Bay fig tree which sat just in front of the house. Brett would paint it from every angle, inspired by its voluptuous curves, and the couple would sit underneath it and hold parties with the enclave of artists living in the area at the time. Now that tree is double its original size and dominates the garden like a wise grandfathe­r overseeing the beauty.

Before she took on her secret garden Wendy claims she wasn’t a gardener at all. “My mother used to do the gardening. She would disappear and you couldn’t get her back because she was escaping from us. We had a big garden in Lindfield [on Sydney’s North Shore]

and it was always her garden. So I didn’t know anything about gardening really. I still don’t know the names of plants – a few I have learned as I’ve gone along, but certainly not the Latin names.”

Slowly and with a lot of hard work, Wendy’s garden took shape, and even though the land belonged to the council, she was determined to evolve an oasis that everyone could enjoy.

Key to the evolution of the garden was local pizza chef Corrado, whose introducti­on to

Wendy began when he saw her toppling down the side of the bank when he was strolling past. “I fell off the edge over there,” Wendy tells me pointing to the spot. Corrado helped Wendy up the bank and she ended up offering him work in the garden. The two have been together ever since gardening along with Ruben, the Uruguayan husband of Wendy’s Chilean housekeepe­r.

Corrado turned out to be a natural gardener, says Wendy with a hint of pride. The garden’s unique landscapin­g takes its line from the shape of the rock faces and uses organic material for wooden handrails, steps and seating. There are also sculptures – by artists including Brett –

mixed in with reclaimed pieces from the rubbish. “An old railway signal down there, a rusty old bike, a scooter,” she laughs.

Wendy was in her element. “In the garden I was free… I was also the boss.”

Her daughter Arkie was delighted to see her mother so consumed. “Arkie was thrilled and when she was up in

Byron Bay, she bought three bangalow palms which are the parent lot in the centre over there. She proudly planted them and we scattered Brett’s ashes together.”

When actress Arkie died in 2001 from cancer at the age of just 37, Wendy was plunged into grief once more. Perhaps the garden saved her, and here she is surrounded by the ashes of all of her loved ones. “They are around, in the garden; my mother’s here, Brett is, Arkie is, and five dogs. They will be with me for the rest of my life. They’re a part of me.”

As for the garden, in 2015 a 30-year lease on the land was granted to North Sydney

Council and then last year, NSW Premier Gladys Berejiklia­n pledged a $30,000 seed fund which Wendy is matching to set up a trust fund for the garden’s future. “The trust fund will assist North Sydney Council with the upkeep. I can’t do it for ever,” says Wendy who also hopes individual­s will contribute to ensure her secret garden remains long after she is gone, a poignant and communitys­pirited memorial to the Whiteley family.

“In the garden I was free...I was also the boss.”

 ??  ?? ABOVE: While there are stunning flowers in Wendy’s garden, the overall vista is a kaleidosco­pe of lush foliage, featuring every shade of green possible. “I don’t have enough sun for it to be a flower garden,” says Wendy, who has however created a mecca...
ABOVE: While there are stunning flowers in Wendy’s garden, the overall vista is a kaleidosco­pe of lush foliage, featuring every shade of green possible. “I don’t have enough sun for it to be a flower garden,” says Wendy, who has however created a mecca...
 ??  ?? ABOVE: The poignant heart of the garden features a clump of trees, including three bangalow palms bought by Wendy’s late daughter. LEFT: The Whiteley family in 1969.
ABOVE: The poignant heart of the garden features a clump of trees, including three bangalow palms bought by Wendy’s late daughter. LEFT: The Whiteley family in 1969.
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Arkie, Brett & Wendy
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 ??  ?? ABOVE: Wendy’s house. BELOW, LEFT: A sculpture by Brett’s best friend, Joel Elenberg, welcomes visitors.
ABOVE: Wendy’s house. BELOW, LEFT: A sculpture by Brett’s best friend, Joel Elenberg, welcomes visitors.
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