Kapiti Coast
It is an intriguing game, trying to spot which famous novelists are true gardeners and which ones aren't.
Julian Matthews enjoys the warm wonders of summer.
Ithink Canadian author Michael Ondaatje must have a love of things horticultural, judging by little yet significant things that pop up in his beautifully written novels. Such are his powers of persuasion that after reading his latest book, Warlight, I felt the need for a glasshouse, an old-fashioned affair with real glass and wood, where evening games of Scrabble could be played by candlelight among exotic plants, as two of the lead characters do in an English country garden. Such was the pleasure of reading Warlight that I turned back to Ondaatje’s earlier novels. In The English Patient, he writes of winds of the desert, including the solano whose dust plucks off rare petals, causing giddiness. There’s gardening for survival in The English Patient, vegetables planted with caution in ground that could have been mined by the retreating German troops (the setting is an abandoned Italian villa in the aftermath of World War II), but the heroine’s concerns are more to do with thistles and rough hands. She remembers her father teaching her about hands, and dogs’ paws too. Especially the smell at the base of a dog’s paw, “… the dog’s paw was a wonder: the smell of it never suggested dirt. It’s a cathedral! her father had said, so-and-so’s garden, that field of grasses, a walk through cyclamen – a concentration of hints of all the paths the animal had taken during the day.”
Flowers that drop on paved paths can be a joy or a menace.
A lot has to do with their size. An old, tree-like white-flowered camellia hangs over our cobblestone paved driveway, its fat flowers a mushy mess throughout winter and early spring, creating quite a hazard if stepped on after rain. On the other side of the drive is the charming Camellia transnokoensis which, when it drops its profusion of tiny white flowers, creates a fairtytale scene and there’s no worry about losing one’s footing if they are stepped on.
In summer, some of the salvias are a delight with their harmless petal drop. The overly vigorous, but beautifully deep blue-flowered Salvia ‘Amore’ is perfect for a floral carpet, as is the sometimes too enthusiastic Salvia uliginosa with its masses of soft blue flowers produced all summer. The latter can grow like a weed in moist soils, but is easily controlled with a sharp spade. I spoke with a landscape architect recently who said that she loved to use Salvia uliginosa beside the driveways of clients as those scatted petals are such a cheerful note for owners returning home from a busy work day.
Bird of paradise is such a versatile and easy-care plant, I'm surprised it isn’t more popular in mild climate gardens.
I see old Strelitzia reginae plants poking their flowers above fences near the beach here on the Kapiti Coast, just as happy as the ones I grow in sheltered spots and good soil in our garden some kilometres away from the sea. These South African natives are useful plants to have as a permanent feature, a focal point among pretty annuals and perennials.
There are some interesting variations on the bird of paradise theme and these are now to be seen in some garden centres. Strelitzia parvifolia juncea has rush-like leaves which become thinner and more intriguing with age, and the same striking flowers. Hard to come by is ‘Mandela’s Gold’, a variety of Strelitzia
reginae with rich yellow and blue flowers instead of the usual orange and blue. A friend saw a long row of this at Kirstenbosch National Botanical Garden in Cape Town, South Africa, recently and says it made a spectacular sight.
When it comes to all summer colour in pots, red geraniums are hard to beat and wonderfully easy care. These sun lovers are great on decks and in courtyards, and are most accommodating providing they have lots of sun.
We usually grow a big pot of them where they are seen as we pull up to the garage, making for a welcome home note.
They form part of an eclectic grouping of bromeliads and palms which include a couple of the multistemmed, slightly bamboo-like Dypsis baronii. Visitors sometimes comment that the palms must have cost a lot, but no, they came from a garden centre’s bargain bin where they had been reduced to just $30. That was a few years ago, but it shows what you can get with not too many dollars and a good dollop of patience.