NO LOVE LOST
THE LANDSCAPER beheaded a photinia yesterday. Well, beheaded isn’t quite accurate, since that would suggest taking a foot or two off the top. What he actually did was chop it off at the ankles and poison the stump.
He’s always hated that photinia so he was well pleased with himself, and so delighted to see the last of the thing that he’d even dragged all the branches down to the fire pile before morning tea time.
You might ask how it came to be in the garden in the first place, and I have to confess I planted it, years back, when it was just a young thing with green leaves. I had no idea it would be so treacherous as to turn bright red and detract from everything else around it.
It’s usually me who takes dislikes to certain plants, and it has been pointed out to me that I am cheating readers out of information because I never write about them.
So here, on a positive note, is my list of despised plants. And, as is appropriate for a journalist, I am presenting both sides of the story, with the good stuff first.
Bougainvillea
There is no question that bougainvillea is a spectacular plant. This evergreen climber is covered in colour in the warmer months with red, orange, pink, purple, and less commonly, white or gold flowers. But it’s not the flowers that’ll take your breath away but the foliage, which also comes in a range of garish (oops, sorry, vibrant) colours. The true flower of a bougainvillea is actually a very small cream trumpet.
Once known only as a very large climber, there are now many forms of bougainvillea, including dwarfs, so you can pick one to suit any spot.
Why I don’t like them: because they have vicious thorns, one of which got stuck in my cat’s eye, resulting in a $600 vet bill. Plus, I think they look artificial.
Butia capitata
A single-trunked feather palm which is quite tolerant of cool, wet conditions, but will also grow in Mediterranean or subtropical climates. The arched fronds are a very pretty silvery blue/green and the edible fruit is fibrous, sweet and tastes a bit like apricot. Another plus is that they have amazing seed heads which, when dry, make great decorations for floral arrangements.
Why I don’t like them: At the base of their fronds they are hiding demon thorns that could rip your arm off, and they have sharp bits at the top as well.
You’ve probably figured out by now that I don’t like roses, either — at least not at close range.
Coprosma Hawera
One of the landscaper’s clients adored these natives. They’re fast growing and will handle most conditions, although they do prefer dry areas. You can plant them in any soil unless it's waterlogged, in full sun or part shade. They’ll likely grow to between one and two metres wide and about 400mm high, and will not need trimming apart from fairly basic shaping. They’re so dense they’ll cover up just about anything you want to hide.
Why I don’t like them: They have mean, narrow leaves of indeterminate colour and are often (inaccurately) described as “great for cascading over walls”. Hawera does not cascade. It crawls. It has insignificant flowers and tiny white fruits which do nothing to offset its general lack of appeal.
Pittosporum
This is probably a bit unfair because there are there are about 200 species of pittosporum, many of which come from
New Zealand and I don’t dislike all of them. We have a garden based on golf ball pittos and it never fails to draw compliments. Now I’ve found one called Tenuifolium “Wrinkled Blue” with a silver-green, wrinkled leaf, which I may just find a place for.
Why I don’t (usually) like them: Well, to be blunt, I find them boring. I’m pretty sure I’m never going to see one and say “Wow! That is really something different.”
Flax
No, I don’t love them but the tu¯¯ı do. Cleverly, we have one planted low on the stream bank behind a griselinia hedge so the seed pods are the only bits we see. An ecowarrior friend of ours gave it to us when it was tiny and it is now as big as a mobile home. Happily, you can get little flaxes if you like, and to be fair a mass or border planting can be a good look. There’s a nice bright green one called Emerald Gem and a fine-leafed little dwarf called Jacki Sprat in a dark, red-bronze.
The big ones are messy. There are times of the year when they have lots of dead or dry leaves that need cutting off and if you have caravan-sized specimens, it’s a big job. And I never know what to put with them. If I’m asked what to plant with them I say “rocks”.