Category Archives: Abbie’s column

Abbie’s newspaper columns

Out of the box

1While we like the odd bit of sharply clipped hedging – which is essentially a green wall – we have never been big fans of buxus. In fact we have both been known to scoff at it as possibly the world’s most boring and over-used plant. A few years ago when buxus blight first appeared in this country, we made plans and built up some camellia options for hedging instead.

We only had four short lengths of box hedging last week. Now we have one and that is a low layer of a tiered hedge. The buxus blight had not struck but we weren’t that happy with two of the buxus hedges which did not keep good colour. Besides, the camellias were getting somewhat too large in the field and needed moving.
2The buxus was gone by lunchtime. That is our handy little tractor which was one of our better purchases 15 years ago.
3Our choice for beside the driveway was Camellia transnokoensis which has very small leaves and a mass of tiny white flowers in season.
4
That is our Lloyd planting the new hedge this morning. He is hardier than both Mark and me. We do not go around with bare legs as autumn draws into winter. The plants went in at about 40cm spacings. We will keep the final height to around 120cm.
5We cut the new hedges back by close to half. This reduces stress on the plants which will have undergone quite a shock with their move and we want to encourage them to bush up and grow densely, rather than the taller, willowy growth. It should only take one or two fresh growths and the hedges should look as if they have been there from the start.

We think we will be much happier with camellia hedges than the boring old buxus.

Fruity facts (pragmatism over romance)

Apples are a reliable crop for us

Apples are a reliable crop for us

???????????????????????????????The whole concept of a home orchard seems to evoke romantic images, often based on childhood books. The swing hanging from the old apple tree, the lichen encrusted gate by which one enters, feasting on windfalls, maybe sitting on a tree branch munching sun warmed plums – you get the picture. Needless to say, it is always sunny and there are no wasps.

In recent years, with the explosion of interest in growing one’s own produce, I wonder how many trees have been sold to people with that soft focus romanticism. Just as I wonder how many dollars have been spent buying fruit trees which are entirely unsuited to our geographic areas. No matter how optimistic you are, I’m sorry we are just not going to produce good Black Dawson cherries in the mid north.

Most fruit trees need care. There aren’t many that you can just plant and leave. The reality is that if you want a crop, you are going to have to give the plants some attention. They are not like an easy care camellia that you can bung in the ground and then hack back a decade later when it has grown too large.

Orchards take space, more space than many people have. This is because fruiting trees need full sun, some protection from strong winds yet plenty of area around each tree to allow for good air circulation. That air movement is what helps to combat the build up of pests and diseases. Over-crowded plants will not crop well.

Mark’s mother planted an orchard here. She was not without romantic vision. Little of it remains now. However we do grow a lot of fruit and maintain a fresh supply all year round. Most of the crop is organic. Over time, the fruiting trees have been placed in appropriate positions around the garden rather than in a designated area. However, as we are stripping out our former nursery, Mark plans a return to the old orchard and he has been stockpiling trees in anticipation. But unlike most gardeners, we have space.

There is no doubt that fresh, tree-ripened fruit tastes better and to be able to wander out and gather a bucket of fruit is a simple activity that marks a quality of life beyond dollar value. Much of the fruit that is sold commercially has been sprayed to make it look good for the consumer (pock marked skins just won’t do), picked green and cool stored. It is never going to compare with home grown produce, except in the looks department.

You are probably not going to achieve self sufficiency in fruit on a small urban section. But you can have the delight of some crops. Just think, before you choose what trees to buy.

Feijoas - one of the few plant 'em and leave 'em fruit crops

Feijoas – one of the few plant ’em and leave ’em fruit crops

The only fruiting trees and shrubs I can think of that can be planted and then ignored except at harvest time are feijoas, passion fruit, what we tend to call the NZ cranberry (myrtus ugni), the Chilean guava (Psidium littorale) and avocados (but generally you need to live within 5km of the sea to grow avocados successfully in this country). Pretty much everything else needs work.

Some fruiting plants need quite a bit of work – vines like grapes, raspberries and kiwifruit are not worth giving garden space unless you are willing to actively manage them. Given the major disease issues with kiwifruit in the Bay of Plenty, they are probably best avoided for a few years anyway. Besides they are frost tender, so not suited to inland areas.

Some fruiting plants need a different climate altogether. Cherries and apricots, in particular, thrive in conditions where winters are dry and cold and summers are dry and hot. Nectarines and peaches are similar but a little more tolerant of humid, temperate climates. However, if you want consistent cropping from them, you are probably going to have to spray for disease. Plums are the easiest of that range, but we find they are intermittent croppers and will skip some years altogether.

The modest lemon - common in many NZ gardens

The modest lemon – common in many NZ gardens

We grow a lot of citrus but we are coastal so don’t get much in the way of frosts. Oranges are our year-round staple fruit and we also have grapefruit, mandarins, limes, lemons and tangelos. Inland areas of the Waikato have summers that are plenty warm enough, but anything other than the ubiquitous lemon is going to be problematic without some frost protection. We get away with just one spray of copper in winter on the citrus.

The pears crop well, but not every year. As ours are not on dwarfing root stock, it takes an extension ladder to pick the crop but at least the trees survive on benign neglect. Apples really need annual pruning and some active management for pest and disease control. Our most successful ones are free standing espaliers on dwarfing stock, which allow plenty of air movement. Generally, they only get a copper spray once a year and occasional intervention when the codling moth gets going. Apples in our household are quartered, peeled and cored for eating because they are less than perfect. But they crop prolifically every year and taste good.

There is a whole range of lesser known fruit now on offer for sale – medlars, persimmons, pomegranates, kaffir lime, novelty citrus like Buddha’s Hand, to name just a few – but where space is limited, you are probably better to stick to the tried and true that will crop consistently.

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

A prickly tale – plants doubling as burglar deterrents

It would have saved a lot of effort had one of us looked up Yucca whipplei before we planted it 20 years ago

It would have saved a lot of effort had one of us looked up Yucca whipplei before we planted it 20 years ago

“I hate prickly plants”. I have said that often and indeed have consigned various prickly specimens to the incinerator. But when I thought about it, I realised we have a fair swag of spiny and spiky plants that we wouldn’t be without.

Many of the bromeliads have spiny points down their leaves and I often have somewhat shredded arms from delving in their midst to pull out dead foliage and to remove spent pups. The broms can make a mess from wrist to elbow but these lacerations heal very quickly, unlike roses.

Roses harbour so many fungal and bacterial diseases that their thorns can cause wounds which often become infected at an alarming speed. A nurse once told me she spent some time “specialing” a patient with acute cellulitis as a result of a rose injury – a thorn in her elbow – and some older gardeners have told me they have pulled out their roses rather than risk health issues from the inevitable scratches and splinters. I get tempted, every time one rips me as I pass but what is a garden without roses?

What amused me was when I looked around our house and realised that we have several large, very spiky plants around windows. Burglar deterrents! Not that we planted them for that reason. Nor indeed have we ever been burgled. Maybe our plants are doing their job? Generally, such plants have ended up in those locations because they are desert plants which need hot, dry conditions and the house borders are one of the few places to offer these.

Aloe ferox - now a distinct hazard at the base of our fire escape

Aloe ferox – now a distinct hazard at the base of our fire escape

I doubt the wisdom of the rather large Aloe ferox with evil spikes at the base of our fire escape. Our only justification is that to get on to our fire escape, one needs the agility of an 11 year old and these days we would more than likely be found calling piteously for help from an upper storey window. The corollary is that at least burglars or intruders are unlikely to gain access up it.

Our biggest problem is the large yucca outside one window. We think it is Yucca whipplei. It was only a small, sculptural plant with attractive grey foliage when we planted it, maybe 30 cm high and 20 cm wide. That must be getting on for 20 years ago. At the point at which we decided we should be moving it, Mark thought it might be putting up a flower spike so wanted to leave it for another season. We are still expecting a spectacular flower spike at some point. Several years have passed and it still has not flowered. It is now well over two metres tall and a metre wide and that particular set of windows has not been cleaned in recent years. Nor can they be opened any longer. I gave the ultimatum last year that I wanted it moved.

Not for us, the quick and dirty solution of cutting it off and then digging out the roots. Oh no. This is a fine specimen and not particularly common, so it is waiting to be relocated. We have a sunny, north-facing bank where we have some of these larger desert style plants growing. It will take two men the better part of half a day. The problem is getting the two men on to the task at the same time. One man in my gardening life is more obliging than the other. That may be because he is paid, whereas I am married to the other one.

Last year, in preparation for the move, the concrete was cut. Oh yes, we have to remodel our paving to get this plant out. At the time of the concrete cutting exercise, our Lloyd commented to me that he was not going to be the one moving it because every leaf has a spiky tip. We are not talking seriously spiky like some yuccas of the major-risk-to-eyes or dangerously-hazardous-to-children variety. We had one of those and removed it from the rockery. This one is just a bit pointy on the tips, enough to cause discomfort rather than serious damage. “Easy,” said Mark. “We will just wrap the top in a blanket and tie the leaves upwards.”

Some yuccas can just be cut as lengths of stem and they will reshoot. This is how the very popular (and non-spiky) Yucca elephantipes used to brought in to this country and possibly still is. We are not willing to run the risk with this one which does not have much of a stem. We are trying to avoid butchering it. 20 years of growth deserves some respect.

Vertical cacti now guarding the laundry window (and the inimitable Zephyr once again getting himself into a photograph)

Vertical cacti now guarding the laundry window (and the inimitable Zephyr once again getting himself into a photograph)

If you like the idea of using plants to give some protection against intruders, it may be wise to keep to more vertical plants. Some of the desert cacti such as we have outside our laundry window are good – this one has been gently co-existing with the house for maybe 60 years.

I have a gardening friend, an older woman living alone, who told me that she has trained a very prickly rose along her narrow, secluded boundary where she feels most vulnerable. I prefer something a little less rampant than a climbing rose but there is no doubt, we could have saved ourselves a major task had one of us looked up Yucca whipplei before we planted it.

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

If you are wondering how to set about moving large plants (similar to the Yucca whipplei mentioned above), there are step by step instructions in our Outdoor Classroom – Moving Large Plants.

Our towering pines

The rich tapestry epiphytes that has developed over many decades

The rich tapestry epiphytes that has developed over many decades

If asked to name the tree least likely to be planted in a garden today, I bet most New Zealanders would say Pinus radiata. Is it our most despised plant? Maybe it is just that familiarity breeds contempt since we have made this tree our own utility, forestry tree. Believe it or not, back in 1838 you would have had to pay between 21 shillings (an old fashioned guinea, no less) and 100 shillings (or 5 pounds sterling) to buy one in England.

I have a personal interest in the humble pine tree because we have an avenue of them which are now somewhere over 140 years old. I looked at them with new respect when colleague, Glyn Church pointed out to me that all the really old Pinus radiata and the old man macrocarpas in this country would have protection orders slapped on them in their native territory. For these two species, so strongly represented here, are native to a small part of the Monterey Peninsula in California where they are referred to respectively as the Monterey Pine and the Monterey Cypress. They grow somewhat larger in our conditions.

The tops are not things of great splendour, but these Pinus radiata are now over 140 years old

The tops are not things of great splendour, but these Pinus radiata are now over 140 years old

The tallest of our pines must be around 50 metres now. They’re a motley bunch of trees. One or two are handsome from top to bottom. A couple are dead and have become skeletons. Some have much better crowns than others and many of them lean out at odd angles. There are masses of interesting epiphytes which have taken up home on the branches and forks in the trees, mostly collospermum and astelias spread by the birds and ferns dispersed by the wind. We have nigh on 40 of them in one area of the garden, planted originally as wind-break in double rows at about 3 metres spacings.

There is nothing at all unique about our pine trees here beyond the fact they are still standing and we have turned the area beneath into long avenue gardens. Ours are by no means the oldest in the country. That honour goes to a single pine tree at Mount Peel Station in Canterbury. It was apparently planted as a three year old seedling in 1859 so is at least 15 years older than our ones.

It did not take long for the earliest trees of Pinus radiata in this country to start showing their potential as a timber source, especially as our new colony had been ripping out the native forests at a rate that was alarming even back then. In the 1870s, large quantities of pine seed, mostly P. radiata but also other species, were imported and distributed widely. It is likely that our pines date back to these seed importations. If so, they were merely a few dozen among anything up to 500 000 seed distributed.

Pinus muricata, lesser known here and probably the same age as the radiata pines

Pinus muricata, lesser known here and probably the same age as the radiata pines

There were actually about 48 different species of tree introduced at that time through official channels. One of them was the lesser known Pinus muricata, or the Bishop Pine, also from California. We happen to have a little row of four P. muricata. To the untrained eye, they look like slightly more compact, smaller growing radiata pines. We don’t know anything about the history of our muricata but it would seem likely that they, too, date back to those 1870 seed importations.

Would I ever recommend anybody these days to plant Pinus radiata as an avenue? Well, no. Our avenue of rimu trees dating from the same time are much more impressive, rock solid and long-lived. But we see some merit in our crusty old pines which have wonderful fissured bark and add a solid presence to the landscape of our property. Fortunately, Pinus radiata tends to break up and drop in pieces over time, rather than keeling over in its entirety. We get a fair amount of firewood on an ongoing basis and the pine cone production is prodigious.

Zephyr the dog photobombs yet another garden shot - the leaning trunks of the old pines

Zephyr the dog photobombs yet another garden shot – the leaning trunks of the old pines

In the past four decades, three have fallen. The only really alarming one was the latest a few years ago which snapped off at about 5 metres up. Turns out the trees have all been topped at that height – maybe a century ago.

We have lost count of the number of garden visitors (all older men) who have surveyed our pines and said: “Oh, they’re a problem. They’re at the end of their life. How are you going to get those out?” Of course the general view in this country is that any Pinus radiata over the age of about 40 is past its life span.

We can’t take them out even if we wanted to. We can’t get heavy machinery in. They would have to be done by huge Russian logging helicopters and we aren’t millionaires. We plan to just leave them to their own devices and to continue cleaning up the fallen branches. Common old pines they may be, but they are part of the history of our place and part of the history of this country, too.

We have, however, had a discussion on what to do should one of us be standing in the wrong place if one falls. Run towards the trunk, is my theory, because that is the thinnest section, and then decide at the last second whether to throw oneself to the right or to the left.

References:
http://friendswbg.org.nz/PINUSRADIATA.html (Friends of the Wellington Botanic Gardens).
Horticulture in NZ 1990 Vol 1, No 1 republished on http://friendswbg.org.nz/PinusRadiatatoNewZealand.pdf

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

At the end of a golden summer come the autumn bulbs

Colchicums, not autumn crocus

Colchicums, not autumn crocus

Autumn. It is indubitably autumn. I can no longer pretend it is just the summer slowly waning and that winter is still a long way off. For most people, autumn is synonymous with leaves colouring to fiery hues.

However those of us in coastal areas may carry that mental image but the reality can fall well short. Inland areas get much better autumn colour because the nights cool down more rapidly and it is the sharp drop in temperatures which triggers the colouring response in most deciduous plants as much as the declining day length. The moderating effect of the sea means we drift far more slowly between seasons and the leaves are inclined to turn brown and fall, skipping much of the colouring process.

Our extensive use of evergreen plants in this country also mitigates against fantastic mass displays of autumn colour. Our native plants are all evergreen and in a generally benign gardening climate, we tend to favour evergreen exotics as well. I have met many gardeners who shun deciduous plants because they are allegedly messy and lack winter interest, which has always seemed a bit myopic to me. We are never going to rival countries like Canada with its native maples when it comes to a mass blaze of autumn tones.

It is the autumn bulbs that signal the change in season for me. There are so many pretty seasonal flowers coming through now. These are triggered into bloom by a drop in temperature, declining day length and some by late summer rain – don’t laugh at that last one.

The charm of carpets of Cyclamen hederfolium

The charm of carpets of Cyclamen hederfolium

Gardeners in this country tend to focus on the spring bulbs – from the early snowdrops through the snowflakes, bluebells, tulips, daffodils, anemones and ranunculus. These are readily available and marketed widely. They also flower at a time when the majority of trees and shrubs are blossoming forth.

The autumn bulbs have never captured the market in the same manner yet they bring freshness to the garden at a time when many plants are looking tired or passing over. I find them a wonderful antidote to the autumnal despondency of declining day length. There they are, all pretty and perky, just coming into their prime.

I often feature selected autumn bulbs in Plant Collector because this is their time to shine. As I wander around the garden, I see carpets of Cyclamen hederafolium (flowers only so far – the leaves have yet to appear) and taller spires of the autumn peacock iris, Moraea polystachya, which is inclined to seed itself around a little. This lovely lilac moraea has one of the longest flowering seasons of any bulb I know. The common old belladonnas are already passing over but I enjoy their blowsy display while it lasts. We use them in less tamed areas on the road verge.

Moraea polystachya - the autumn flowering peacock iris

Moraea polystachya – the autumn flowering peacock iris

Over the years, I have waged a campaign to convince people of the merits of the ornamental oxalis, many of which are autumn stars. Call them by their common overseas name of wood sorrel, if the mere mention of oxalis makes you shudder. The range of different species is huge. By no means are all of them nasty weeds and many are not the slightest bit invasive. We have them flowering in white, yellow, apricot bicolour, a whole range of pinks, lilac, lavender and even crimson. Some are perfectly garden-safe. I can vouch for their good behaviour after decades in the garden here. Others I keep in pots – preferably wide, shallow pots for best display.

We are big fans of the Nerine sarniensis hybrids

We are big fans of the Nerine sarniensis hybrids

And nerines are the major feature of our autumn rockery. The majority of these are sarniensis hybrids with big heads of flowers. By no means are all of them the common red of Nerine fothergillii or the strong growing pink Nerine bowdenii which comes later in the season. We have some lovely smoky tones, reds deepening to violet hues, a remarkable lolly pink – the colour of a highlighter felt pen, two tone sugar candy and even heading to apricot. Nerines are renowned as a good cut flower but I never cut them. There is only one stem per bulb and I would rather admire them in the garden than indoors.

Then there are the bold colchicums which, contrary to popular belief, are not autumn crocus but certainly put on a splendid show with a succession of flowers from each corm. You have to go a long way back in the botanical family tree to get any relationship between colchicums and the proper autumn crocus. The latter is a much more delicate and transient performer whose flowers appear at the same time as its foliage. Currently, we are enjoying both in bloom.

Some bulbs are quite transient in flower but no less delightful for all that. If I am ever forced by declining health and aged frailty to trade down from a large garden, I can see that it would bulbs that I would chose to grow. I love the way they mark the seasons and how there can always be a different one coming into its time to star.

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