One of the recent themes of our gardening conversations here has been perennials. Perennial gardening and herbaceous borders are our current challenge, albeit one that may take us a decade or two to get to grips with. (Have I mentioned that we take the long term view regarding gardens and gardening?)

New Zealanders tend to be exceptionally good at creating quick impact, pretty tree and shrub gardens. Avenues of cherry trees, hedges of camellias, flowering daphnes, roses and the like – all flourish in our equable climate, grow quickly, have almost instant impact and are relatively easy care. Where perennials are used, they tend to be part of mixed borders to add seasonal flowers and foliage. Plants like irises, polyanthus, hostas and more recently clivias and that other fashion plant of today, bromeliads, are part of the repertoire of most gardeners.
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As I was getting the washing in earlier this week, there was much loud twittering of birds. Mark, who was passing commented on the consternation (it did remind me of that early horror story “The Birds”) and suggested that our ginger killing machine might be at large. In fact the ginger killing machine (aka the cat) is rather more a ginger sleeping lump these days but I wandered behind the garage to see if she was entertaining herself by inflicting a spot of terror.

No. It was a snoozing morepork. I managed to get within a metre of it, roosting in a tree in the bush. There was a small and hyperactive fantail dancing around the branch with much agitation telling it to move on while the other birds kept a safer distance away as they gave it it’s pedigree. A bit of a pariah in the ornithological world, the morepork, but I was enchanted to see one close up. For some time we had one resident in a very large blue conifer outside our bedroom window and it would swoop in to catch the moths attracted to the lights. But it always moved so fast that I never caught more than the tap on the window and a glimpse of it flapping away.
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As I write, Mark is just outside picking the last of his grapes. This fruit is certainly not in the luxury class for us. However the imported fruit is now so cheap in the supermarket that I doubt that it has retained its luxury status for many. I almost feel a sense of nostalgia for the days when grapes were primarily a treat for invalids in hospital.

The outside grapes currently being harvested are Albany Surprise. This American hybrid grape is one of the most successful performers in our outdoor conditions. It is a big black juicy grape. The skin is a little tough but that is why it is so successful. If you can keep the birds away (festoons of bird netting here), then the wasps can’t get in to the fruit. But once bird pecked, they will swarm in. Albany Surprise does not require the hot, dry, extended summers of many other varieties which is why we recommend it for residents in our more temperate coastal areas.
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The onset of autumn always makes me think of my mother. She was possibly the only person I have ever met who disliked summer. I can’t recall seeing her on a beach after I was aged about eight. By that time, she used to pack me off in the company of older siblings to catch the bus to the beach. I am sure she thought a beach bunny was a lop-eared creature who lived in the sand dunes. Her lifestyle never encompassed hot chips on the sand, summer barbecues or sitting around under a sun umbrella with a cold drink in hand.

No. My mother was a Serious Gardener and the hot and dry of summer was a constant irritation to her as it inhibited her compulsion to rearrange the plants in her garden and divide her perennials. I think radio cricket commentaries used to be broadcast on the Concert Programme (maybe they still are) and the only time in my life that I can remember my mother using excessively strong language (the f word in fact) was apropos of summer cricket commentaries. I was so shocked I can still remember it many years on. I think the cricket became inextricably bound up with her boredom and frustration on summer afternoons.
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Good gardening is a combination of design and plants.

In times past, design often took the back seat to plants. The classic Kiwi garden was typically a bungalow set in the middle of a quarter acre section with narrow borders around the house and wider informal borders around the perimeters. These perimeter borders were often sculpted in the Kiwi hosepipe style – snaking the hose around to create “natural curves”. Large lawns were regarded as necessary – space for children to play cricket, a trampoline, basketball hoop and barbecue. In short, they were utility gardens. Some readers may well still have gardens of this design and type.
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