Category Archives: Abbie’s column

Abbie’s newspaper columns

The call of gardening in less hospitable situations

Indubitably Australia

I went to Australia last week – Sydney and Canberra. We have a daughter in each city and both are putting roots down across the ditch. Literally. It is very interesting watching one’s children become inspired by gardening.

Sydney daughter is the younger of the two and still in rental accommodation. But having lived in upper floor apartments before, she is now adamant that she needs outdoor space, be it ever so compact. Her current garden is not much larger than our dining room at home. I recall her growing huge and productive Sweet 100 tomatoes when she was a student at Waikato University. In an upper floor apartment in London, she acquired small window boxes to grow herbs. The current space, be it ever so modest, is palatial by comparison.

As the space also accommodates the accoutrements of modern life (outdoor dining table and chairs, barbecue and sun umbrella), her actual gardening space is limited to two narrow, raised beds along the perimeter and an assortment of pots. But she has made space for the two critical requirements for the hipster urban gardener – a worm farm and a covered compost box. She is limited to growing herbs and a few vegetables at this stage but I can see the makings of a lifelong gardener.

We could learn a thing or two from street trees in Australia – this pleasant leafy road is in in Canberra

Elder daughter is now a proud home owner and that is an entirely different kettle of fish. She too started gardening as a student and is a reasonably competent vegetable gardener with over a decade of experience behind her. But now that she has some security and stability in her life, she is looking to expand beyond the quick turnaround of veg and herbs. She was after ideas to develop the ornamental garden.

Canberra is not the easiest of places to garden. Not at all. She commented it is not possible to put plants or seeds in with a reasonable expectation that they will grow and flourish. It takes hard work to get plants established. I walked around her pleasant, leafy suburb to get a feel for the place and it was clear that gardening was a challenge and it was the street trees that gave the area its appeal. We could learn a thing or two from street plantings in these Australian cities.

I realised, however, that this was not a place where that tenet of modern living applies – the indoor/outdoor lifestyle. That is because the winters are cold. I have visited in winter and I doubt that many people sit out in their gardens drinking their morning coffee, even on a fine winter’s day. The summers, on the other hand, are hot. Very hot, even as November became December. It was too hot to be outdoors after 10am and temperatures will rise considerably. So for a good six or maybe seven months of the year, it is an indoor lifestyle.

Then there is the dry. There has been a great deal more rain this spring than usual so the grass (one hesitates to call it lawn) is still green rather than dead. This is unusual.

There were clearly many who found the call of gardening too difficult so they just kept to a few trees and shrubs, mostly in hedges. Nandinas grow well, as do oleanders, crepe myrtles, camellias and pittosporums. The ornamental plum (a selection of Prunus cerisifera) is widely grown with its striking deep burgundy foliage which looked particular fetching with a white cockie feeding in it.

My advice to daughter was pragmatic. Because they have two small dogs (fur grandchildren, Mark and I call them), they only use the fenced back section, which now has a fine veg bed and a well organised compost alley. Concentrate her efforts there, I suggested, and indulge her interest in prairie gardening. It suits the climate.

What to do with a front yard which is merely access to the house?

The front can then become low maintenance window-dressing for kerb appeal. I suggested they get rid of all but one of the finicky garden beds and all the plant containers out the front. These need watering every day. What is more, the beds are raised which means they dry out even faster. Drop the level of the one remaining bed to ground level to reduce watering and the constant spillover of garden mulch. Plant that one remaining bed in easy care, shade tolerant plants – hydrangeas and hellebores – and retain the boundary hedges. Mow the rest. They only have to mow for four months of the year. I bought her my favourite tool for digging out the flat weeds. If you are stuck with fairly rough grasses, it looks much better without the flat weeds.

The same advice may well be applicable for people in coastal situations here. New Zealand lacks the extremes of temperature, but people gardening on sandy soils will experience similar problems. Emulating the lush growth more commonly prized in most gardens is fighting nature in such conditions. It is better to work with what you have.

Hydrangeas – easycare plants. They are all pink in Canberra.

First published in the Waikato Times and reprinted here with their permission.

Bulb meadows

Colchicums in the park

The demise of two of our grand old pine trees a few weeks ago has necessitated a fairly large clean up. They were about 140 years old and had been on a major lean for much of that time. Clearly they passed the point of balance. But, as happens in gardens, their collapse also opened up an opportunity. Suddenly there was a nice little area which had been dense shade and more or less left to its own devices but was now light, open and clearly of potential.

“Bulbs,” I thought, “I shall plant it in a succession of bulbs to take it through the seasons.” I started with what was already there – a congested but large clump of snowdrops, a few cyclamen and some valiant pleione orchids which were battling on despite choking ground cover plants. Then I raided the nursery where we still had quite a few pots and trays of suitable bulbs, particularly dwarf narcissi of various types. By this point, I was already committed to using minis and dwarf growers which would co-exist and not choke out their growing companions.

So how many bulbs are needed to fill an area?

As I continue to raid suitable bulbs from wherever I could find them, I started to do the maths. We are not talking a large area here. It is maybe 10 square metres (5x 2) at the most. Do you have any idea of how many dwarf and mini bulbs are needed to fill that space? Allowing maybe 5 bulbs per 10cm square, that adds up to a massive …. 5000! Okay, so the cyclamen are not planted at that density, but many of the others are.

Had I chosen to start with larger bulbs of stronger growing varieties – full sized daffodils, bluebells, tulips, colchicums and the like – I could have planted them at maybe 10 cm spacings so would have only needed about 1000 bulbs. It is still a lot.

The lesson is that if you are besotted by bulbs, as we are, it helps to learn how to look after them so that you can increase the supply for other plantings. Having depleted the nursery of spare bulbs that are suitable for this situation, I am now taking apart beds in the rockery to thin the bulbs there and get the surplus for my new area. So far, as well as the types already mentioned, I have added rhodohypoxis, blue brodiaeas, various different lachenalias and crocus. I am aiming for mix and match in the hope that there will be something seasonal and dainty flowering in that particular section at all times of the year. It will take some tweaking over time to get it right.

Belladonnas beneath the gum tree at our entrance

I have a mix and match of large and some invasive bulbs beneath a huge old gum tree at our entrance. Invasive bulbs are easily contained there and there is room for sometimes scruffy performers like the belladonnas to put on a good show.

Bluebells to the left and common old Lachenalia aloides in front

Elsewhere, we have tended to keep our bulb plantings separated by variety. This may be our nursery background – keeping the option open to start selling bulbs again if need be. But a big show of a single variety can be striking. We sometimes use the root zone at the base of large, specimen trees, usually on the sunny side because most bulbs enjoy light but are adapted to surviving quite harsh conditions. This gets them out of the way of the lawnmower.

Drifts of bulbs are harder to manage here

But really what we covet most are drifts of bulbs – informal, randomly organised rivers of seasonal colour flowing through. In harsher climates where the grass stops growing in winter (too cold) and summer (too dry), it is possible to do it in grass. But not here. Without significant management, the strong growing grasses overwhelm the bulbs and need mowing before the foliage has had a chance to carry out its function of replenishing the bulb.

It is easier to work with bulbs which shed their foliage quickly. There are big differences in how long different types keep their leaves – anything from 4 to 6 weeks up to 11 months. Fortunately the pretty snowdrops (galanthus) are light on foliage, because what we really want over the next decade is to develop proper drifts of snowdrops. Not a few hundred. Thousands. They will be a fleeting wonder lasting a mere week or two each year. But it is the sheer frivolity of self indulgence that will spur on the snowdrop dream. At least we know which ones perform well in our climate – without snow or much winter chill – and we will just gently work on it by continually dividing and spreading the existing clumps. I am guessing the one clump of Galanthus viridapicis in my new little bulb garden yielded upwards of 300 bulbs. That is a good return.

First published in the Waikato Times and reprinted here with their permission.

Maples in the garden

Maples. They are acers, botanically speaking and there are plenty of them. They are often seen in gardens too, though the majority are probably what is commonly referred to as the Japanese maple – A. palmatum usually dissectum. There are multitudes of selected forms of this around, many of them carrying Japanese names. One of the reasons I have not written much about Japanese maples is because we don’t have names on many of the ones in our garden here and I have not gone to the trouble of working out which varieties they are. This failure is irrelevant when it comes to their role in the garden but it matters rather more when I write about them.

A random collection of maple leaves from around the garden

The world of maples goes well beyond those feathery Japanese ones. Maple syrup, dear readers does indeed come from maple trees, unless it is a synthetic version. Acer saccharum – the sugar maple – and that is the inspiration for the Canadian maple leaf emblem. It is also a major contributor to the autumn colours we associate with North America, along with Acer negundo. These are large landscape trees, not dainty little garden specimens though Acer negundo ‘Flamingo’, a pretty variegated form, is widely sold here and stays small enough to be a good option.

Autumn colour supreme

Maples are classified botanically and share certain characteristics including curious winged seeds which are designed to be dispersed by wind. In a gardening or landscape context, they have some common ground too. The foliage is soft so almost all of them are unsuitable for windy locations. They need adequate moisture levels in summer so are never going to like baking in hot, dry conditions. Many of them are happy in semi shade though some will lose their colour and become dull green in low light levels. Many colour up beautifully in autumn, even in milder climates.

Beyond that, rather than looking at pictures and deciding that you want a particular variety, this is one plant family where I suggest you go to your garden centre and read the plant labels. If you are really lucky, you may even strike someone there who knows about maples. You need to make decisions about whether you want a tree (and if so, what sized tree) or a little dwarf – often called patio maples. Also whether you want weeping or arching growth, or a more upright habit. Then there is the colour and whether you want one that keeps the same colour through spring and summer because some of them change colour as the leaves age.

I would counsel caution against buying too many red or burgundy foliaged maples. These are very dominant colours in the garden landscape and best used sparingly as feature plants. And if you feel compelled to plant a collection of maples, bear in mind that there may not be a huge difference in style between the dreaded conifer garden of the 1970s and the maple garden of more modern times. Enough said on that issue.
Besides feature trees which add to the skyline, we find the smaller growing maples combine well in a variety of situations. I really like the little weeping one we have planted with roses growing through it. It is a very pretty combination, especially with perennials also in flower. Pretty too are the ones in a semi- shaded bed with clematis scrambling around them and seasonal bulbs at their base. We have more upright forms in the rockery where we can keep their bases clear and they give good year-round form.
But one of the unsung delights of the smaller growing maples is that as they grow older, they can be gently encouraged into natural bonsai forms which give shape and interest in winter when they are fully naked. We do a bit of thinning and shaping but not much is required to make a feature of a maple with a good skeleton.

Plants which delight with distinctive, fresh spring foliage, last all summer, colour up in autumn and then have a really interesting shape in winter justify their garden position all year round. Add in their adaptability to a range of situations and their happy characteristic of combining with all sorts of other plants. It all comes down to making the right decisions on the variety and the garden position from the start. These are good staple plants to incorporate into any sheltered garden.

First published in the Waikato Times and reprinted here with their permission.

Stripes, splashes and edges – variegated plants

Yellow variegated conifers are redolent of the 1960s and 70s but we have retained those that add a statement to the garden landscape

New Zealand gardeners are not, in the main, huge fans of variegated foliage. There are exceptions – hostas being one – but as a general rule, we tend to avoid bi-coloured variations. This often surprises overseas gardeners, particularly British ones who are far more enamoured of such things.

I am sure it is related to the differing quality of light in this country. New Zealand is remarkable for its clear, bright light. In recent times, that light has been even less filtered due to the hole in the ozone layer. Those prized white, cream, yellow or pale variegations burn badly in the sunlight. If the sun doesn’t get them, then the winds often do and burned brown edges take the charm away.

It is different in countries with softer, more diffused light. Often such conditions go with lower sunshine hours and in a climate which is generally greyer, yellow plants and variegations can add a bright touch in the garden and landscape which is valued.

Variegations are usually sports – mutations, genetic aberrations, if you like. Sometimes it is the result of a virus. Most plants grow with one solid colour on the foliage. All sorts of plants can throw up a branch or stem with a variegation but most of these will be unstable and revert back to the original single block colour. Where a variegation can be isolated and increased by propagation, the resulting plants often the lack the vigour of the original plant.

Hideous variegated plants I have seen include a nasty variegated oleander in Spain. The mottled and margined leaf added nothing to what is a lovely flowering street tree in the right climate, in my opinion at least. There was a ghastly variegated spirea (a yellow and green leaf with murky pink flower) that we saw being sold widely in the UK. In this country, the top selling rhododendron for a number of years in the 80s was a mutant named President Roosevelt. Some of you may still have it in your gardens so stop reading now if you are going to take offence. It was the first plant I cut out when we bought the property across the road from where we now live. I do not think the yellow mid-rib to the leaf added anything but when you add a red and white variegated flower to green and gold foliage, it was all too much for me. But distinctive, so it sold.

We have retained the odd variegated yellow conifer here but only because they are handsome, established trees which make a contribution to the landscape. I can’t think that we would choose to plant them from scratch.

The variegated disporum lit up a dark area but proved altogether too invasive

That said, in darker areas of the garden, the odd bit of variegated foliage can light up an area. It was for this reason that Mark planted the ground cover that I think is Disporum sessile variegatum. It’s pretty green and white foliage gave a lift in the shade. I have spent the better part of this week weeding it out because, unlike other disporums we grow (‘diaspora’, I keep calling them), this one was scarily invasive. It spread alarmingly, rampantly and through everything. We have retained only one small patch in a confined area. The rest is now in the compost heap. Plant this one at your peril. This variegated form is an exception to the rule in that, for us, it is much strong growing than the others we grow.

Farfugium tussilagineum argenteum looks good in shaded areas

Other variegated shade plants we use – but in moderation – is a white edged form of Soloman Seal, a yellow striped renga renga lily (arthropodium), a handsome variegated crinum, farfugiums (which most readers will still know as ligularias) and, of course, hostas. But not all together. The secret to using plants with variegated foliage is to set them off with plenty of block-coloured foliage.

Offset variegated hostas with other plain coloured varieties for best effect

Nowhere is this more apparent than with hostas. Too often, people will only buy the fancy, variegated ones and I have never seen a good planting of a variegated hosta beside other variegated hostas, all different. But take the same hosta and put it beside some plain coloured foliages and it can add zing and star in its own right.

Most variegated plants lean to the “Look at me! Look at me!” sort of statement. If you are going to grow variegated plants, make sure that you use them so that they are the feature they want to be and don’t sit them alongside a medley of other plants also demanding to be the star. That becomes a jumble.

First published in the Waikato Times and reprinted here with their permission.

Irises – named for the Greek goddess of rainbows

Louisiana iris are flowering by our stream

I am enjoying the irises enormously this season. This week we have three main types in flower – the Sibericans, bearded irises and the Louisanas.

Botanically Iridaceae, they are more romantically named for Iris, the Greek goddess of the rainbow. It is a big family – there are maybe 300 different species and they are grouped in different botanical sections. Then there are thousands upon thousands of different hybrids, for irises have been bred extensively for hundreds of years. Some of those hybrids are what I would describe – politely, if disparagingly – as ‘novelties’. This is more evident in the bearded iris class than anywhere else but I will draw veil of silence beyond saying that not all hybrids are improvements.

‘Crowned Heads’

We are not the best bearded iris territory here. These ones grow from rhizomes that sit on top of the soil and they tend to prefer free draining, sandy soils (great if you live on the coast though you may have to stake the flower spikes). They like their rhizomes baked in the sun and they are fine with winter frosts but are not so at home in high rainfall, high humidity climates. They are also better without a whole lot of other foliage flopping over their rhizomes, which tends to happen in perennial beds.

Yes that is a black iris, called 'Anvil of Darkness' no less, and an old yellow variety to the right

Yes that is a black iris, called ‘Anvil of Darkness’, and an old yellow variety to the right

The modern hybrids are often touchier than the old toughies. I was delighted by the iris fields of nursery plantings I saw last spring (www.theirisboutique.co.nz) and tramped up and down looking at them all. The owner, Coleen Peri, has given me a few new ones to try here. Bless her, she avoided the weird colour mixes, splashes and splotches that I personally dislike. The very dark ones are interesting but are not going to be easy to place in the garden so that they stand out. There are some exquisite blues available but my most reliable standby is still an old pure yellow one which dates back to Mark’s mother. It is very forgiving and tolerant.

One of the easiest of all iris to grow, as long as you have heavy or damp soil – Iris sibirica

The easiest of all irises to grow must be the Siberian iris or I. sibirica. As its name suggests, it is fully hardy but it does want to grow in a heavier soil which doesn’t dry out during the growing season. It is dormant in winter, so winter dry won’t matter – though few of us have dry winters in this neck of the woods. It has the classic form with three upright and three falling petals and comes mostly in gorgeous shades of blue. Because it is clump forming (it has a fibrous root system as opposed to many irises which are either bulbs or rhizomes), it can be planted and left for many years. I get a lot of pleasure from the border where I have combined it with the big hairy-leafed Bergenia ciliata. I like the contrast between the foliages and they co-exist happily together.

The Louisiana irises are in flower down by our stream. These ones hail from the bogs and swamps of Louisiana and are easy to grow in clumps on the margins of water, although they can also be grown in heavy soils. These are plant and leave types, too. The lovely Japanese Higo irises will not come into flower for another few weeks yet. We are still working on establishing these here and they appear to be at their best immediately by water. We want lots of them blooming into December because we love their colours and ethereal form.

Moraea villosa or the peacock iris

Then there are the Dutch iris (often sold widely and cheaply as corms in autumn). They looked out of place in the rockery, vulgar even, so I moved them into a perennial border where they flowered away in early spring and looked much better. Dutch iris are not native to Holland. It is just the Dutch who did the breeding to get these popular forms for the floristry and garden markets. The dwarf (ground-hugging) Iris cristata from USA look much more appropriate in the rockery and have that classic three up, three down petal formation so often associated with the iris family. The peacock iris (moraea) species which grow from corms, also fit in well with the rockery and different species flower through autumn, winter and spring though many people would not even pick some as irises.

It seems a general rule that if the iris grows from rhizomes or bulbs, it needs excellent drainage and will do better in lighter soils and full sun. If it has a clumping, fibrous root system, it leans more to heavy soils and damper conditions. One size does not fit all when it comes to the large iris family.

A field of irises being grown commercially

First published in the Waikato Times and reprinted here with their permission.

Tikorangi The Jury Garden

Mark and Abbie Jury

Category Archives: Abbie’s column

The call of gardening in less hospitable situations

Bulb meadows

Maples in the garden

Stripes, splashes and edges – variegated plants

Irises – named for the Greek goddess of rainbows

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this:

Share this: