Category Archives: Abbie’s column

Abbie’s newspaper columns

Demystifying compost and muck

The news that there may be a permanent ban on outdoor fires in Taranaki has had me thinking. At first I thought it must only apply to urban areas but there was no mention of that in the early statements from Regional Council. Letter writers to the editor, who applauded the proposal and commented that with the increasingly efficient kerbside recycling services this should not be a problem for people, clearly lived in the city. And I would hazard a guess that they don’t have large gardens.

This is not to say that I am opposed to the idea of discouraging the burning of organic waste, but I am not sure that a blanket ban is the way to go. In a large garden with many trees, we have constant debris. Anything that can be, is composted through our series of compost mounds. Tree branches larger than about 10cm are cut up for firewood but there is all the twiggy stuff in between which up until recently we have dumped on the burning heap in a paddock. Our latest acquisition here is a good solid mulcher bought second hand on Trade Me (and voted by the one who uses it here as his second most favourite piece of machinery). This should eliminate the need for our annual bonfire but, like the chainsaw, mulchers have a petrol powered carbon footprint and are noisy. And mulchers are not going to suit all home gardeners. Nor does the mulcher solve the problem of rose clippings which I still incinerate.

But we would all be foolish not to heed the rumblings. The times they are a-changing and we had better start to think around some of the practices which are becoming increasingly unacceptable.

At the most basic level, the only people I consider justified in putting food scraps out in the rubbish are those who live in apartments with no outside garden. There is not a lot of point in loading landfills with plastic wrapped food en masse when it is very easy to dispose of at home.

So herewith the compost guide for beginners. The very mention of compost arouses passions in some, believe it or not. There are entire books and websites devoted to the topic and they can go into extraordinary technical detail requiring adherence to recipes, a strict timetable of rotation and turning, along with the construction of aerated bins. If you already manage compost in this manner, you do not need to be reading further.

But for beginners, there is compost and there is rotting. Compost is dryish, light, full of air and does not smell. It has been naturally heat treated. Rotting is often pongy, sludgy and heavy. It has not generated heat.

Rotting is fine in some cases and easy to manage. Rather than (horror of horrors) raking up the autumn leaves and burning them, to the detriment of neighbours’ washing and the environment, you can rake them back under the bushes and let them break down naturally. After a few months, you have what is called leaf litter and it is inoffensive, fertile and fine for raking back over the garden beds as mulch.

Kitchen waste is often rotted, rather than composted. In fact the simplest method can be to start a trench in the vegetable garden and bury the scraps, covering them with the soil from the next part of the trench as you work your way along. The worms will then break down the food and it doesn’t take long before you can use the row for planting. The major disadvantage is dogs and you don’t want to be burying meat.

While we have a row of proper compost mounds, they are some distance from the kitchen so we use one of those useful black bins with no bottom in it for food scraps. It looks tidy in the vegetable garden and keeps the dogs out though rats can burrow beneath. We refer to it as the compost bin but in fact the contents are rotted, not composted. We avoid putting any weeds which are seeding in there or any diseased vegetable waste because rotting alone does not kill seeds and fungi. Leaf litter would be fine in one of these black bins if you like to keep the garden tidy. Mark rakes out the contents into the vegetable garden from time to time. Rotting does not have to be unhygienic and in fact you can encourage your own worm farm to do the breaking down for you.

Proper compost is something else entirely. In smaller gardens it is tidier to work on constructed compost bins so you start in one bin, fork it into the second bin (this is aerating it), adding nitrogen if required, and then into the third bin from where you use it for the garden after a few months. We have a large amount of green waste here and sufficient space to manage free form mounds which get turned by the front end loader on the tractor but in days gone by, (before the advent of our baby tractor) Mark used to fork it all over as required. If you are past forking compost, there are more expensive rotating bins on the market.

The whole principle of composting is to generate aerobic action and heat which is what purifies the compost. We all know about grass clippings heating up and steaming but without the addition of air, roughage and carbon you are actually creating something more akin to smelly, fermented ensilage.

Compost aficionados have recipes, not unlike cooking, but we have never felt the need to be so regimented. We pile all the waste into heap number one, grass clippings and all. When the heap is large enough, it gets turned and sprinkled with nitrogen in granular form. If you have chickens, this is the point at which you add chicken manure as a natural source of nitrogen. If you have a lot of grass clippings, they also provide natural nitrogen. Some people like to bring in seaweed or other animal manure at this time but we have quite enough of our own waste, thank you, without needing to gather it up from other sources. The nitrogen is important because that is what starts the aerobic action and the heat which is the all important part to kill the unwanted greeblies. It is now heap number two.

Ideally number two should be turned a second time a week later to keep the composting action in full swing. We turn each mix several times but twice is the minimum. We then cover it with black plastic and leave it for a couple of months before using it, mostly as a garden mulch but also to add goodness and a lighter texture when planting trees and shrubs. We favour a pretty dry mix here. Done properly, it is weed free and clean to handle.

Apparently around 40% of what goes to urban landfill is green waste. If you can deal with it in your own garden, you will certainly be reducing your carbon footprint. Separating out green waste for recycling may be one step better than throwing it in with the polystyrene, plastic and tin but it still requires energy input for it to be collected or delivered and composted at the landfill before you then drive your vehicle to go and buy compost (often in plastic bags) to return to your garden. If you are serious about saving the planet, cut out the middle man and start working out ways to deal with your own green waste at home.

Letter to Elton

Dear Elton,

We were very disappointed that your recent trip to New Plymouth was so fleeting that you did not have time to visit our garden. Maybe next time, you will manage more than an eight hour stopover which really only left time for your concert.

We know that you are keen on gardening. In fact we know quite a bit about your garden. So we left word with Somebody We Know in Town who was involved with hosting you, that should you have a bit of spare time, we would love to show you around our place. But it was not to be on this visit.

We know your tastes are quite particular. That there are various plants and flowers you hate. Gladiolus feature high on the hate list. That is fine. We don’t grow the Dame Edna type of gladdies. All we have are a few tasteful and understated species and only one of those is in flower at this time of the year. It could have been like a little test to see if you spotted it in the rockery. It is a curious beige colour with burgundy spotting so it may have attracted your attention, but unless you know gladiolus species you may not have picked what it is.

We agree with you that marigolds are common. Nor are we fans of carnations. When somebody gives you carnations, there is always the suspicion that they buy their flowers from the supermarket or the petrol station, don’t you think? Big blowsy dahlias are so vulgar and OTT really, without even the bonus of fragrance. At the risk of alienating every Dutch reader, I must admit that I am not a fan of tulips either. The weird colour mixes and frilly ones just don’t do it for me though a sea of pure perfection in a single colour is not so bad.

We would have been so tactful had you found the time to visit us. We would not have mentioned your major aberration in Good Taste. We refer to the ever so slightly tacky dinosaur that you have in your garden (a gift from George Harrison, we understand. How polite of you to keep it.) I don’t think you would have found any such lapses in decorum in our garden, at least not of that magnitude.

We know about your garden and your dinosaur because we watched Rosemary Verey walking around yours with your head gardener. Sure Mrs Verey died some years ago (maybe you have had second thoughts about Dino since that footage was shot?) but the Living Channel is not always up to the moment with its garden programmes.

Mrs Verey was such a quintessentially English gardener, wasn’t she? Highly skilled, clearly of good stock and well mannered but such a fine plantswoman. We did try growing her Lavatera Barnsley but it wasn’t quite the stop you in your tracks performer here that it is in the UK. In fact it staged a bit of a takeover bid here and while it flowered well, as it grew ever larger it tended to become increasingly scruffy and to fall apart. We cut it out after a season or two.

But we have a profound respect for Mrs Verey and what we saw of her garden and you must have too, as she was closely involved in the development of yours. It may even have been her who placed Dino in your garden after you had accepted him as a gift. Rather than making him a major focal point, Dino appeared to have been tucked discreetly amongst the undergrowth and the overgrowth. We watched her walking your garden and pausing by Dino, commenting that he seemed to have settled in rather well now. At the time we both burst out laughing because we interpreted that comment as a veiled reference to a hope that in another year or two the foliage around would have grown sufficiently to block out all sight of Dino, but we wouldn’t have told you that had you come to our place to visit.

And yes we do know that you call George’s gift Daisy, not Dino. But really, how can anyone take seriously a fibreglass tyrannosaurus rex of such magnitude that it requires a helicopter to move it and with glow in the dark red eyes, when it is called Daisy?

Nor would we mention the figure of Aphrodite inside a red British Telecom box residing in your woodland area. But we do notice that you lean towards tasteful terracotta pots rather than the garish glazed ones more popular here. Same with us, but alas the distance is rather too great for us to manage those charming Cretan olive oil jars which you have flanking your potager.

We would have been curious to hear why you replaced Mrs Verey’s pride and joy, the white garden (well, whitish really, when you read the list of plants ) which your bedroom overlooks. It sounded so lovely when she wrote about it, but apparently you have replaced it with an Italian garden. She seemed ever so slightly miffed that you chose to go with statuary and vistas instead. In the nicest possible way, she made it pretty clear that this seemed a very odd choice to complement your English regency residence and rococo garden.

To be honest, we are not really rococo here but we are deeply envious of your nineteen acre woodland, all maintained and underplanted in a woodland-y sort of way (as opposed to an herbaceous border sort of way). It makes our woodland gardens feel very small and paltry.

But a couple of weeks ago you would have caught the tail end of the nuttallii rhododendrons which are always some of the last to flower for us. I am sure you would have liked these, though I doubt you can grow them in the UK with your harsh winters. They are all class, the nuttalliis. Big, reasonably spectacular (in a refined sort of way) with divine fragrance in most of them. Long white trumpets and big, textured foliage. They can be a bit open in their growth but the peeling cinnamon bark is such a reward for the open habit. I think you would have been moderately impressed by them.

And a couple of weeks ago, we could have shown you our baby kereru which has now flown the nest and our little family of five moreporks which have since dispersed. A visit could have been such fun.

Do feel free to call if you are passing this way again.

Sincerely,

Abbie

Of owls, pigeons and glow in the dark piggies

After my tongue in cheek column about glow in the dark plants, scientist daughter has been emailing me information about the fluorescent protein. Bottom line is, dear Reader, the technology is here and is already routine in genetics. Not perhaps for a low tech plant breeder in Tikorangi, but the fluoro green pigs in Taiwan were pretty amazing. Green all through too, even to their internal organs. Zebra fish are now available overseas in genetically modified, iridescent pink, glow in the dark stripes. All from a gene isolated from jellyfish which converts to a protein and allows the development of a range of different colours. I mention this in case you don’t like green.

Before you throw your hands in the air in horror, the advantage of a fluoro green pig is in tracking the development of new cells (medical research of huge potential for many people) without having to resort to invasive techniques on live pigs. So there are pros and cons of glow in the dark piggies though I suspect a glow in the dark zebra fish is solely of novelty value, just as a glow plant would be.

But back to nature in our own garden. Some years ago, I landed the task of writing garden descriptions for nigh on seventy different gardens which stretched my vocabulary somewhat. Leaving aside the plethora of tranquil havens and peaceful retreats, a very large number of gardens wanted to highlight their birdsong. I recall having a discussion as to whose gardens in particular we would allow to include birdsong as a special feature, given that it did not seem to be unique at all. When Mark read of a garden proudly proclaiming over 30 different bird songs, he spent some time listing all the ones we have and came up well short, even when he cheated and included birds that do not sing.

But how many gardens have a family of resident moreporks? We have been delighted this week to have a family of five take up residence in one of our trees. Momma, poppa and the three young ones hang out together during the day in the castanospermum (commonly referred to as the Moreton Bay chestnut). While the parents sleep, the young ones are wide eyed and nervous, watching us watching them. Moreporks are as cute as any owl with their great big eyes giving them a perpetually startled appearance and their round, fluffy bodies. We are entranced. In the evening they fly around catching moths and if you watch a lighted window long enough, you may see the flash of wings as they swoop in to catch the fluttering prey. In the day they just hang about, their mere presence upsetting the tuis and other birds which fly under their roosting tree. You can hear their agitated chatter.

In our park, Mark is keeping a watchful eye on a nesting kereru. These clumsy big birds appear to have small brain power (dinosaurs of the ornithological world?) and are remarkably useless at building secure nests and raising young successfully. For years, Mark has been attempting to gently protect nesting wood pigeons and this year’s family is no exception. They have a flimsy nest built at eye level in a large holly bush and as it is highly likely that the baby will fall out and land on the ground sooner, rather than later, Mark has constructed a fence to protect it from predators. Festoons of bird netting a safe distance out, supported by poles and pegged to the ground will be sufficient, he hopes, to keep out rats, our lethargic ginger cat, wild cats and other predators for long enough to enable him to carry out a rescue should it be necessary.

This security netting took him the better part of half a day to install. As it is white bird netting, he came up feeling rather pleased that he had created something that reminded him a fairy castle. I went to have a look and it reminded me more of a shroud. Garden visitors assumed it was something to do with gathering the seed of the plant it surrounded. Baby kereru is now on the move. It can’t fly yet but it hops around the tree so is highly likely to end up on the ground soon. Maybe the combined efforts of its parents and Mark will keep it alive long enough to achieve independence.

We have yet to find where the quail are nesting but Mark is worried because they make nests on the ground and he envisages a distressing flurry of loose feathers should we get them with the weed eater. Commonly referred to as Californian quail, we have welcomed a resident pair into our garden. Not only are they endearingly attractive but their sounds of communication are gentle on the ear. We would be delighted if the population increased. We haven’t had resident quail in the garden for many years so the continued survival of this pair is a hopeful sign that the predator population is not too bad.

The rosellas may have signed their death warrants. Bright and attractive they may be with their jewel like plumage as they flash through the trees, but the news from a colleague that they ate every single bud of his Magnolia Vulcan this year did not endear them to us at all. New Zealand may rue the day that these Aussie imports were allowed to get well established in the wild here. And while their death warrants may be signed, how to carry out the executions is a different matter altogether. They are very quick birds.

While we would love to have a resident kaka, our friend and colleague at Oakura is rueing the presence of one in his garden. This particular visitor clearly disapproves of the introduction of exotic species. It has inflicted considerable damage ripping off large chunks of bark from rare conifers. We think we could forgive it, should it decide to move to our garden. These very rare birds have an amazing call but are seldom seen on the lowlands.

If you want to read a little more about the glow in the dark pigs, go to:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/asia-pacific/4605202.stm

Rainbow Festival?

Our conversation started innocently enough. There was a piece in the Midweeker where Kevin Moore predicted the collapse of Western society over the next three years. Now, I don’t wish to denigrate Mr Moore’s beliefs in any way whatsoever. I am assured he is an intelligent and thinking man and it is clear that he believes deeply in his predictions. But I was raised by a mother who spent the better part of her life predicting the end of social order as we know it. She lived out well in excess of her three score years and ten and, if she but knew it, she died a disappointed woman having missed out on the growth of Islamic fundamentalism and the Twin Towers attack, let alone the election of George Dubya – all of which she would have seen as vindication of her dire outlook.

What caught our eye here was the quote from Kevin Moore where he said: “Anyone who plants rhododendron trees at this stage of the game is mentally ill. You can’t eat any ornamental trees.”

It is, we would like to state clearly, entirely coincidental that this particular piece of wisdom came at a time when we made our decision to exit the ornamental nursery production trade. It is not the fear that the market for ornamental plants will disappear entirely in the next three years that drove this decision on our part. Rather we decided we had too many things left to do in life that we had better get on with before we are too decrepit or elderly. Two of the passions we wish to have more time to pursue are gardening and plant breeding.

And what possibilities did this dismissal of one of our favourite ornamental plants generate? With the impending demise of the annual rhododendron festival in the face of the collapse of western society, Mark wondered about the possibility of producing rhododendrons where the flowers matured into apples. In a myriad of colours and sizes, we could see the opening for a Rainbow Festival. A useful marriage of beauty and productivity.

Should his rainbow plants succeed, he pondered camellias which then produced mandarins. Maybe flowering cherries which then produce the equivalent of luscious Black Dawsons. Magnolias which morph from flower to pear.

From there, we went on to a discussion about the gene which bestows the ability upon some fish to glow in the dark. My memory was of being told in the UK that glow in the dark fish were common around the outlets of nuclear power plants but this may have been inaccurate in the face of recent research which has isolated the glow in the dark gene.

Herein lies a quandary for environmental ethics and genetic purists. Imagine the potential of a glow in the dark plant. Not the financial potential (though we are pretty sure we could sell a glow in the dark plant to most New Zealand households). No. Such plants would be a huge boon to the environment and could eliminate almost entirely the sale of those cheap and tacky solar lights beloved by so many. When they first came on the market, solar garden lights were not cheap. I think I bought some from the Maruia Society who were, and probably still are, committed environmentalists. The lights were reasonably expensive but now they are so ludicrously cheap that they have become throwaway, despite the issues of used batteries.

Would an environmental advance such as a glow in the dark plant suitable for all climates justify the cross species genetic manipulation that would be required? I refer to introducing a fish gene to a plant. A bit of genetic engineering would be necessary, maybe even embryo rescue. We are still pondering this tricky, ethical matter.

There was also a letter to the editor last week advocating the planting of fruit trees and home vegetables and counselling the use of organic methods for growing them. We are in full agreement with the advice but the letter made the suggestion that gardeners should not buy hybrids because these are unsuitable for saving your own seed for next year. In fact most veggies are hybrids (the naturally occurring species can be poor specimens which many gardeners and cooks would reject out of hand). What the letter writer meant, we think, is that if you save seed from F1 hybrids you will get a variable result. Possibly one of the best known F1 hybrids is the original release of Honey and Pearl sweetcorn – a super sweet variety where the kernels can be yellow and creamy white on the same cob. F1 hybrids are first generation seed and if you keep selecting and raising seed from these, you can stabilise the form you want but that initial generation of seed will be patchy and variable. Most seed packets will identify if they are F1 hybrids.

There is no guarantee that heirloom fruit and vegetable are naturally occurring species either. They are simply old varieties and in many cases may have crossed in the wild or be the result of controlled crosses back in time.

And with the news that the Ellerslie Flower Show is moving to Christchurch (though it is unlikely that most of the exhibitors, northern visitors and many retailers will follow it there), we were hugely amused by the message left on our answerphone from a friend with a natural talent for mimicry. “Ah gidday. It’s Tim Shadbolt here. Ha Ha Ha. I was thinking that we might, ha ha, move the Taranaki Rhododendron Festival to Invercargill. Just let me know if you think it is a good idea, eh. Ha ha ha.” As Tim is apparently scheduled to visit our area before Christmas, maybe we had better batten down the hatches before we find our successful event has moved south too.

If you want it, you may have to produce it yourself

So twenty years of Rhododendron and Garden Festival (or Rhodo Fest as participants tend to refer to it) has been and gone. Blink your eyes and it is over for another year. We could all have done without the unrelenting rain on the last Sunday but them’s the breaks. It is certainly not the first time that the weather has not cooperated and it won’t be the last.

And another year of eager beavers searching out particular rhododendron cultivars has gone. We assume R.elliottii was not flowering at Pukeiti this year because nobody asked for it. And we could tell that BriRee was not open this year because they used to have a spectacular rhododendron whose name escapes me offhand, that many people asked for. The trouble was that nobody but the good gardeners at BriRee could do much with this particular variety so it was not readily available.

No, it was Lemon Lodge that was at its peak flowering this year around the province and therefore much sought after. Lemon Lodge was selected and named by Pukeiti and it has big trusses of sublime lemon coloured flowers. The problem with Lemon Lodge is that it prefers a cooler climate and certainly will never be happy in Auckland or Whangarei. Even for us, with a warmer climate than Pukeiti, Lemon Lodge looks superb for its two weeks in full flower and pretty tatty for the rest of the year. It also has a fairly poor success rate from cuttings so is not easy to propagate.

Curiously, we were also asked for Lems Cameo several times this year so there must be at least one garden left with a good flowering specimen. Lems Cameo was the must-have plant of the late eighties and early nineties. It has a gorgeous flower in a colour range not really available in anything else of similar shape – big frilly flowers in apricot cream and pink. The trouble with Lems Cameo was that it was very difficult to propagate – had to be grafted and even then with poor success rate – and that it really wanted to live in a cold climate like Taupo or maybe Tekapo. Over the years most of the plants around this province have died, even the large specimen in our park which held on longer than most.

The big, fragrant pure white trumpets of the nuttalliis and nuttallii hybrids were also much admired and these are plants which are not readily available commercially, either. They rarely appear in garden centres because they don’t set flower buds on two and three year old plants and they don’t give much in the way of cutting material so they are not a starter for mass production.

The problem is that there are few, precious few, specialist rhododendron growers left in the country so we are seeing the range get smaller and smaller. The interesting species have all but disappeared from production. Varieties which require grafting or are difficult to propagate and grow in the nursery have also pretty well disappeared. Similarly, azalea mollis do not fit modern methods of mass production and are hard to find. The longstanding specialist nursery, Crosshills in Kimbolton is still flying the flag in the rhododendron world and probably the only source left for a number of cultivars. As far as I know, they still do mailorder too so are worth seeking out if you are after something special.

Mark is of the view that we may see a return to home propagation skills in the face of a declining plant range. For the past three decades, gardeners have expected to be able to source just about any plant they want, as long as it is in the country. Some are still of the view that the advent of the internet should make sourcing even easier but the bottom line is that you can only source a plant if it is actually being produced. With a contracting range, gardeners may have to return to learning how to propagate at home if they are to be able to grow the special plants they covet.

Sadly, dear Reader, there are easier plants to produce at home than most rhododendrons. The vireya rhododendron group are simple and many will root without special facilities. Similarly, evergreen azaleas are pretty easy. But the deciduous azaleas and the classic rhodos require more skill and better facilities. For the home gardener who lacks a hot bed with bottom heat and protection, layering is possibly the easiest method. Layering is simple, as long as you have a long enough branch. It involves pegging a branch to the ground (you can use a wire hoop or even a stone or brick) and being patient for two years or more, in the hope that where the stem is in contact with the ground, it will put out roots (like a sucker). When it has formed roots, you cut the branch from its parent and dig it up and move it. There is no substitute for patience here and you don’t always get the best shaped plant.

We may be seeing a return to the times of Bernie Hollard where you gave your layers away in exchange for other people’s special layers. Layering, of course, only works for plants which grow well on their own roots so it is not suitable for most grafted plants. Plants are often grafted because they don’t grow well on their own roots so grafting is a means of giving them a transplant of other root systems.

There is no hocus pocus to grafting or to propagation at home. It used to widely practiced by gardeners of previous generations and even Mark set up a little outdoor hotbox unit for cuttings in our first home, long before he went into a career in horticulture. If you anticipate wanting special plants, you might usefully employ your time looking through old books to see how it used to be done. It is not an expensive operation but it does require an outdoor power source and some heating cable. Now the internet might be the place where you can find step by step guides to home propagation, including grafting.

The alternative is that you will only ever get to admire many of the special plants seen in our region’s gardens in the last weeks.