I have been looking at autumn flowers. Some are simply the carryover from summer (the roses, hydrangeas and perennials) and they can look a little tired by this time. But the autumn flowering bulbs are fresh and delightful. I love bulbs. Because most are deciduous (in other words, disappearing completely when they go dormant), their seasonal appearance is like a surprise each year.

As a general rule, we are more successful with bulbs which are described as winter rainfall types. This is true of most of the west coast of New Zealand because we get plenty of winter rainfall. Winter dormant bulbs come from areas with dry and usually cold winters and they can simply rot out in our mild and wet winters.
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Summer seems to have beaten too hasty a retreat this year. What happened to glorious hot February weather, drifting imperceptibly into March’s cooler evenings and so to the gradual slide into a late autumn? No, it seems that February turned its back on summer and boldly declared that autumn was here.

Which is to say that the belladonna lilies are in full bloom along our road verge, the dwarf species cyclamen hederafolium are in full flower (looking particularly pretty where they are nestled into black mondo grass) and the nerines are opening.
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I was amused to read about the Powerco School of Gardening in the paper recently. The article was about trees reaching in to power lines and the ongoing problem of property owners planting unsuitable trees. I would not dispute for one minute that this is an issue. Most people have a great deal of difficulty envisaging the eventual size of plants and it is hard to see that a little stick around 100 to 150cm tall will ever pose a threat to overhead wires.

I well recall selling a yellow magnolia to a gardener when they were still very new on the market. I warned him at the time that most of the yellow magnolias achieve a similar stature to a timber tree when mature and that they grow very quickly. When I visited his garden soon after, there was this bare rod (it was winter) planted directly below his overhead lines. I think he subsequently moved it, on my recommendation. If not, Powerco are probably chasing him now.
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Cooler weather for a few days seemed to herald a change in the season. As one who loves summer, I hope it was only a temporary aberration but it must have been the first hint of autumn which made me think of food.

The damson plum tree is laden and I can’t even give the fruit away. In the past I have satisfied my harvest festival urge (which passes very quickly) by indulging in damson gin but I decided last time that I preferred the gin without the year steeping the damsons. Not being pudding eaters, we don’t go in for fruit crumbles and plum duffs so the damsons may just go to waste. I notice that Mark had a similar response to wastefulness and there is a supermarket bag full of them sitting on the shed floor. He tells me he plans to use them for wine but I predict they will sit there until they start to rot and then they will go to the compost heap.
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By ABBIE JURY

I had not, I admit, seen the lawn as a political statement until last week. True, we had been discussing the state of our summer lawns prior to that. A guest had looked at them and commented on how splendid those belonging to a mutual gardening friend were looking. I assumed, by implication, that he was suggesting ours didn’t look splendid at all. Tordon Gold, he told us, was reputed to be the answer.

Mark has commented several times that he has been reviewing his approach to the lawns. While he has been reviewing, I have been crawling around cutting out some of the worst of the weeds. As I never spray anything, I don’t feel able to criticise him for not spraying.
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