The cordylines on Devon St and Devon Rd

I went to town last Saturday on one of those glorious winter days we get here with its blue as blue sky and nary a breath of wind. When I say I “went to town”, I mean the small provincial city of New Plymouth which is about 24km from where we live. One of its claims to fame is the phenomenally long main street, called Devon Street. The first settler boats to arrive sailed from the English port of Plymouth, drawing on folk from South Devon and northern Cornwall in search of a better life. When Devon Street leaves the city limits, it becomes Devon Road and stretches out a great deal further along what has now become state highway. And on Saturday, I noticed just how many cordylines there are planted along the way.

Cordyline australis is by far the most common variety where we live and despite the ‘australis’ part of its name, it is a native tree of New Zealand. Local parlance still has these trees referred to often as ‘cabbage trees’ although the Maori name of Ti kouka (with macrons over the i and the o but I am not sure where macrons are on this keyboard) is increasingly widely used. Botanically, they are cordylines.

Cordyline australis ‘Purpurea’

It was the purple version – Cordyline australis ‘Purpurea’ that caught my eye in a garden first. This is just a natural variant on the more common green form. The modern trend is to favour yuccas over cordylines as garden plants but I prefer our native plant. However, as we all know, the falling leaves play havoc with lawnmowers and too often the machine can come off second best. I have read several times recently of folk gathering the leaves, drying them out and using them as fire starters which seems a resourceful activity to me.
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Certainly for those who crave perfection in their garden plants, our native cordylines can develop a motheaten appearance. Caterpillar damage from a native moth – Epiphryne verriculata – is typical in this country whereas the cordylines I have seen overseas, particularly in the UK where they are a prized plant, keep cleaner foliage.

Cordyline australis outside Devon Hotel

Along the road a little were cordylines planted outside the Devon Hotel, casting shadows on the plain wall behind. They were as sophisticated as any imported plant genus would be. They are also remarkably practical as an amenity plant because the multi trunks can be thinned as required without harming the plant.
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Heading out of town, I stopped by the recent planting of an avenue of cordylines leading up to the golf club. You may notice it is an informal avenue which seems a wise decision given that this is not a plant that is particularly cooperative when it comes to straitjacketing it into precision formation. It is much too individual and unpredictable to achieve rigid conformity.
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The established block beside the airport turnoff has been there for a fair time now. They were both eye-catching and appropriate when first planted and I think they are maturing well. The planting beneath is our native flax or phormium.

Cordyline australis at a grand old age near Waitara

The crown of glory must surely go to this solitary specimen standing alone in a paddock near Waitara. It will be many decades old – at least 60 years and quite likely more. It takes a long time for Cordyline australis to reach this stature and what a magnificent plant it is.
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I have used my image of the tui feeding from the mandarin tree with the sunburst Cordyline australis “Albertii” before and it is in our garden, not Devon Road but I remain amazed that I ever caught this little scene on camera.

Earlier stories I have written on cordylines include:
A step by step guide to propagating cordylines
The blue flowered Australian Cordyline stricta
The pink flowered Australian Cordyline petiolaris
The travesty of claiming that Cordyline Burgundy is distinctively different to our Cordyline Red Fountain
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Finally, these Cordyline australis ‘Alberti’ are not on Devon Road and I felt sure I had shown them before but I cannot find where. They are on the main road through Eltham. The sunburst effect made me laugh on the day and they still make me smile.

“Garden flowers preferred”

“What is it like being old, Mum?”
“I still see through the same set of eyes.”

032 That was a comment in a eulogy at the funeral we attended today. We seem to be making a habit of these in the last month or so. On this occasion, it was to remember a lovely lady, and I use the word ‘lady’ advisedly. She had led a life of ninety years filled with kindness and care. The mother of one of Mark’s oldest friends, she had been a particularly strong influence in his teen years so we were really pleased when the family accepted our offer to do the flowers for the coffin. It is not that we have any floral art inclinations – though Mark can cobble together a bouquet with some simple flair when need be. It is more a case that to celebrate a life – and a keen gardening and flowery life at that – with seasonal blooms that have been picked for remembrance is much more personal than going for a standard florist’s package.

I always find the death notices that say “no flowers please” a little sad although I can understand the sentiment. I like the notices that say “garden flowers preferred”. In other words, do not spend money on buying flowers that I cannot see but pick some flowers from the garden and remember.

It was an honour and a pleasure to remember today with flowers that she would have loved.
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The casket flowers were a simple bouquet of one of Mark’s seedling magnolias and pink and white camellias. I didn’t want to lift them off the tray to photograph them lest I bruise them. If you ever need to do something similar, Mark picked the flowers yesterday afternoon and put them up to their necks in water overnight to ensure they would hold without flopping.
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The mourners’ flowers – to place upon the coffin – were galanthus, Narcissus bulbocodium citrinus, Camellia Fairy Blush, Daphne bholua and an early scilla. After I arrayed these, I thought I had made them look altogether too much like a smorgasbord but I didn’t want to bruise them by handling them into a more artfully casual array. It didn’t really matter because what was most important is that I know that this lovely person, now deceased, would have appreciated every flower.
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The magnolia and the mountain

Magnolia campbellii in our park and Mount Taranaki

I prefer not to leave a negative post heading my home page for long (for an update on That Matter, refer to the last paragraph here), so here instead is the magnolia and our maunga*. I am waiting for more flowers to open so I can catch the hero shot of Magnolia campbellii in full bloom against the snow. This photo was taken in the early morning light at about 8am, as the sun was rising.

campbellii again

Mark is anxious that I point out I am using a zoom lens and the mountain is not 300 metres away from us. It is more like 35 kilometres distant. In this case, I feel it is appropriate to use the word iconic about our maunga. It is a beautiful volcanic cone which stands in splendid isolation on the coastal plain beside the sea and it is such a strong presence in Taranaki that it is etched into the very being of everybody who lives here. It is still active, although it is a long time since it has done much more than gently rumble to remind us not to take him for granted.

Magnolia campbellii

M. campbellii is always the first of the named magnolias we have here to open for the season. The tree is a fraction of its former size, having been clipped by a falling poplar tree a few years ago but it continues to grow and will regain its former glory over time.

Just an unnamed seedling

For early glory, this unnamed seedling in one of our shelter belts takes the first medal. It is looking great, but it won’t be named or released. It flowers far too early for most climates and is not sufficiently distinctive. It is a good reminder that on their day, many plants look magnificent but they need to continue looking glorious in competition with many other candidates, not just on their day.

First bloom of the season on Felix Jury

The first few flowers have opened on Felix Jury, which is still a source of real pride and joy to us. Felix beat Vulcan to the draw on first bloom this year, although the latter is now showing glorious colour. Felix will also outlast Vulcan when it comes to the length of the flowering season. In colder climates, these earliest bloomers open later. We are lucky where we live that we have clear, intense light – even in mid winter when these magnificent flowers start opening for us.

Mark’s Fairy Magnolia White

Michelias have now been reclassified as magnolias and the earliest varieties are opening. This is Mark’s Fairy Magnolia White which has the bonus of a lovely perfume. Magnolia season feels like the start of a new gardening year for us and each day is filled with anticipation to see what else is opening. Many of our trees are now large, so I find I am often photographing up against the sky. Hence I often refer to this time of the year as the season of skypaper.

As far as my previous post on the magnolia and the well site goes, for those of you curious about the reaction of the company I can report that so far, the reaction has been… nothing. Nothing at all, although I know they spent a lot of time checking it on my site on Tuesday. I fully expect that situation to remain, although I will certainly be pleasantly surprised if the company responds to the challenge.

*Maunga is the Maori word for mountain and is widely used in New Zealand, especially when referring to mountains which have long held particular spiritual significance for tangata whenua – the first people of the land in this country.

Garden lore: July 20, 2015 Petal blight, white camellia hedges and winter pruning

“One has a lot, an endless lot, to learn when one sets out to be a gardener.”

Vita Sackville-West, A Joy of Gardening (1958)

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Petal blight

After writing about Winter Whites last week, referencing the ubiquitous white camellia hedges, of course I noticed this hedge on my way to town. My eye was drawn to the composition of brown and white flowers. It is a japonica camellia, though which one I am not sure. Closer examination revealed a bad case of petal blight, even this early in the season. There are two main giveaway signs. The first is the brown flowers hanging on to the bush. Most modern camellias are what is called self-grooming. They are bred to drop their spent blooms but those affected by petal blight hang on. The blighters. The second sign is shown by turning over a brown bloom and removing the calyx that holds the petals together. There is the tell-tale white ring of death – fungal spores. There is no remedy. You either live with it or you remove the plants.
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I have never been a fan of japonica camellias for hedging. The foliage can go a bit yellow in full sun and both leaves and blooms are too big. Smaller leafed camellias, seen in the sasanquas, some of the species and the hybrids look much better. Miniature single flowers usually fall cleanly and disintegrate quickly, avoiding the sludgy brown effect below.

Camellia transnokoensis

While our C. transnokoensis hedge needs to thicken up yet, we are charmed by its floral display. The sasanqua ‘Silver Dollar’ is also an excellent hedging choice. While the small flowers are nothing special viewed close-up, it is one of the first sasanquas to bloom for us and one of the last so it has exceptionally long season allied to compact growth and small leaves which are a good, dark green.

Camellia sasanqua Silver Dollar – an excellent hedging option

While some claim that sasanquas can get petal blight, we haven’t seen it on our plants. And although the single flowered species and hybrids are not necessarily resistant, most set large numbers of flowers but each bloom only lasts a few days so they fall before blight takes hold.

On another topic, winter is pruning time. I did the wisterias on Friday. This is one plant family I recommend removing totally if you are not willing to prune them. They have dangerous proclivities. Most of the roses are done and I have started on the hydrangeas. Those in colder climates may be better to wait another month before tackling the last two because pruning encourages new growth which is vulnerable to frosts. The pruning guides I did several years ago as part of my Outdoor Classroom series give step by step instructions if you are not sure where to start – wisteria, hydrangeas, roses.

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Snowdrops on a hillside

July may be the bleakest month of winter for us but it is also snowdrop time and these little charmers brighten the greyest of days. You can never have too many snowdrops in my opinion, and the varieties that do well with us are building up to a satisfying level. By definition, that is when we have enough to move them out of optimal garden or nursery conditions and start establishing them in carpets.

It is our interest in what we call “romantic gardening” – others refer to it as “naturalistic gardening” – that we derive as much, if not more pleasure from plants naturalised in meadow conditions as we do from cultivated, tightly maintained garden beds. It is a blurring of the edges in gardening, exploring how far we can replicate the simple charm of wildflowers but in a managed situation.

Lachenalia aloides and grape hyacinths (muscari) at the base of Pinus muricata

It is not as easy as it sounds. Many of the charming bulbs in their natural environment have conditions which are much harsher than here. Winters that are very cold and often dry mean that most growth stops, as do summers that are hot and dry. But in our dairy-farming heartland, soft conditions keep grass growing all year round and that growth will simply swamp most bulbs. It has taken us some years to learn to manage this. Selecting bulbs that will cope in our conditions has been trial and error.

Bluebells and hooped petticoats (Narcissus bulbocodium) planted at the base of a eucalypt

It also takes eleventy thousand more bulbs than you think it will. Even bulk buying a couple of hundred bulbs is not going to create much of a carpet in the short term. To get a quick result using large bulbs like daffodils or bluebells, planting at one every 10 square centimetres means 100 per square metre. I worked this out because I was planting a little mixed area. Using dainties like erythroniums, dwarf daffodils, snowdrops, crocus and rhodohypoxis, it took about 4 of these small bulbs per 10 square centimetres – or 400 per square metre. That is a large number and may explain why we don’t see many bulb meadows in this country, beyond well established fields of daffodils dating back many decades. Obviously, if you plant at greater spacings, you can cover a larger area but you will wait longer for the carpet effect.

Colchicum autumnale flowering at the base of a metasequoia

While planting around tree trunks is not the same thing as naturalising bulbs in a meadow situation, it proved to be a good place to start for us. We have many trees in fairly open situations where it is possible to establish easy bulbs beneath. Most bulbs need sun so these need to be trees with a higher canopy to allow light below. Planting amongst the exposed roots of established trees ensures the bulbs don’t get mown off or trampled as they surface and generally they get established with little competition. It is also an effective way of controlling some of the invasive bulbs like ipheions and ornamental oxalis.

Scattering seed is hit and miss and slower to give any results but much easier. We were delighted this year to see Cyclamen hederafolium showing its colours where Mark had scattered fresh seed several years ago. He had given up hope that it would work but lo, there are rewards for patient gardeners and the older we get, the more patience we seem to be developing.

Bluebells planted on the margins, drifting through our park area

Bluebells are easy and we have used them in swathes around shrubs in the area we call our park. Because they are flowering at the same time as the full flush of spring grass growth, we have to keep them to the side of areas we need to mow. Bluebell, and indeed snowdrop, woods that we have admired in Britain are carpets beneath deciduous trees. Our woodland areas are heavily dominated by evergreens so we don’t get enough light to replicate those carpets here. That is why we have to opt for the margins instead.

The triumph of experience has been getting grassy banks with dwarf narcissi and snowdrops naturalised. To do this, Mark spent some years establishing the native grass, microlina. It is finer and less vigorous so doesn’t swamp the bulbs and can be controlled with minimal cutting – just a pass over with the weedeater from time to time. It is not quite the same as a bulb meadow, but we have learned to work with what we have here.

Carrying a tray of Nerine pudica, in case you are wondering (which I admit I planted in the rockery, not in meadows)

First published in the July issue of New Zealand Gardener and reprinted here with their permission.

Tikorangi The Jury Garden

Mark and Abbie Jury

The cordylines on Devon St and Devon Rd

“Garden flowers preferred”

The magnolia and the mountain

Garden lore: July 20, 2015 Petal blight, white camellia hedges and winter pruning

Magic carpet

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