Country diary

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder when it comes to Wendyl Nissen’s vege patch, but you can’t argue with the bounty it brings.

My garden up north has the time of its life in January. Everything is laden with fruit and we dine gratefully on freshly picked tomatoes, courgettes and cucumbers, which are usually the stars of my vege patch. But this year’s garden is a little different – it is the Academy Award winner of vege patches, the gold star of vegetable gatherings, the productivity badge to beat all. It is a wonder to behold.

For the first time since becoming a gardener 15 years ago, I can honestly say I’ve never been more proud of my vege patch. And I have one thing to thank for it. Cardboard.

“There are two kinds of gardeners,” said my good friend and gardening guru Lynda Hallinan last year. “Those who don’t care how bad their gardens look – the true organic-style gardeners – and those who like things to look attractive and nice for people to enjoy – such as myself.” She paused to have a smug moment. “You are definitely one of the first kind.” She was commenting on a picture I had posted on Facebook of my vege patch, featuring four tomato plants for which I had made a home in the middle of some cardboard. This was because I had decided that to combat weeds, and because I had recently bought a new washing machine and dishwasher and therefore had a lot of large bits of cardboard lying around, I would cover my whole garden in cardboard and plant into it.

I’m not sure where I got the idea from – maybe one of those websites catering for the aforementioned people who don’t care what their garden looks like. But the whole idea just spelt the word “RIGHT” in my mind.

I had little support from the likes of Lynda or my other great gardening friend Dale Harvey. Both gardeners make regular appearances on my RadioLIVE show and both took great delight in telling me in no uncertain terms, live on air, that I was barking mad and should just settle down about the weeds and get used to pulling them out as true gardeners do. They had a point, because the garden still looks quite awful.

But on the plus side there are no weeds. I don’t mind a bit of weeding, but the problem is that I get it all shipshape then have to go back to Auckland for a few weeks and when I come back all hell has broken loose. It’s very disheartening for my gardening soul.

I don’t tell many people this, but when I’m in the garden I talk to myself constantly in an Irish accent. I can’t actually do an Irish accent out loud but in my head it is perfect and my Irish gardening soul mutters away: “Would you look at the state of those taters, ah they’re a sight to behold,” and so on. I would do anything to stop my Irish voice in my head moaning on and on – “Jasus, Mary and Joseph, look what you’ve done, you idjeet” – when I survey the mass of weeds that have grown in my absence.

So who says you can’t have a garden covered in disgusting brown cardboard, especially when it produces such splendid plants?

The strength of the plants may also have had something to do with the fact that over the winter I dug five dead possums and approximately 20 fish skeletons and guts into the soil, and the dogs buried quite a few of their bones in there. I had also taken the opportunity to douse the whole garden with some blood and bone and lime before laying my cardboard carpet down.

As the weather became hotter and drier, my cardboard acted as a rather efficient mulch, keeping the soil moist and cool for my plant roots.

I am now a cardboard convert and am slowly making my way through the packing boxes left over from our move, which have been languishing in the attic, as I make cardboard sleeves for all the trees on my property. Not to mention the roses, the camellias and the berries in the berry house. And I’m considering writing a book entitled “The Secret Art of Cardboard Gardening”… using the pseudonym Mary Murphy.

Both took great delight in telling me, live on air, that I was barking mad.