Mix and match

Our native red tussock (Chionochloa rubra) with the Eurepean ox-eye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare)

We visit Australia fairly frequently on account of all three of our children living there these days and their native birds never fail to astonish me. Big, brash, vibrant, colourful and varied, they have an astonishing range of exotic birds.  Aotearoa New Zealand also has a huge range of native birds but ours are far more restrained. Our iconic kiwi is, after all, all brown, lives on the ground and only comes out at night so is rarely seen in the wild. Most of our birds are in muted colours and need the light or a closer view to catch the iridescence in the feathers or the charming fluffy chests. But our birds sing sweetly whereas those brash Aussie birds squawk raucously.

Our tui at the top – and I admit it can look plain black with just a white fluffy pompom at its throat without the light coming at the right angle; just one flock of Australia’s showy parrots below

So too, are our native plants of a more restrained persuasion in the showy, flowering stakes. Many of our natives have very small flowers while those of a bolder persuasion can have very short flowering seasons. A kowhai (Sophora commonly tetraptera) is spectacular but only for a week or 10 days if we are lucky. Similarly, our iconic pohutukawa (Metrosideros excelsa) is but brief in its Christmas raiment. We have very few native bulbs and we lack the range of flowering native perennials that many countries have.

Not a native forest at all but our Rimu Walk which we often describe as sub-tropical woodland and where exotic bromeliads are a dominant planting. But the big trees are rimu (Dacrydium cupressinum) and you can see both tree ferns and Dracophyllum latifolium – all native and it is our indigenous vegetation which forms the backbone and much of the canopy for the exotic imports below.

Our native forests are commonly referred to as ‘bush’ in this country but really, it is better to think of those remnants of original vegetation as neither bush nor forest but more as cool-climate jungle. At least it is jungle without snakes or other threatening wild life. The risks in our native bush are more to do with getting lost, falling over concealed cliffs or making very slow progress through dense growth in areas where deer, possums, pigs and goats (all introduced animals) have been kept under control.

Our native Chionochloa flavicans (sometimes referred to as ‘miniature toetoe’) in the foreground backed by Stipa gigantea and more ox-eye daisies because they are most rewarding in the flowering stakes if cut back regularly.

What we DO have in this country is a large range of very distinctive and unique plants – trees, shrubs and grasses – which are remarkable in their foliage, form and structure in the garden. Many are highly prized overseas – including our tree ferns, flaxes, grasses, cordylines and hebes.

I like foxgloves which have a wide natural spread in Europe, North Africa and western Asia but I don’t like them in the common deep pink shades. What I like even more is how our Chionochloa rubra combines with seasonal flowers. As the season progresses, the giant inula, single dahlias and helianthus will take over from the foxgloves and verbascums.

We have always opted for a mid-line in gardening terms – using native plants but in conjunction with exotics. A few purists may go native only with the pinnacle of moral rectitude being eco-sourced plants from the local environment, while at the other end of the scale are those who eschew natives as ‘boring’.

The showy Verbascum creticum – from Crete – with phormiums which are commonly referred to ‘coloured flaxes’ here

I was looking at the combinations of flowers and foliage that pleased me in the Court Garden and it is that mix of native and exotic. Of the structural plants I chose, nine are native and seven are exotic but all the pretty filler flowers that lift the scene are exotic. That was not by deliberate design although I did lean towards native grasses where I had a choice. I think it shows how effective some of our native plants are as bold, structural statements and how we make up for what we lack in showy flowers with some top-notch grasses.

Left to right, we have my favourite Chionochloa rubra, Astelia chathamica (both natives), Elegia Capenis from South Africa and Miscanthus ‘Morning Light from eastern Asia.

There is plenty of material to work with. Gardens do not generally replicate the natural environment but I find incorporating a range of our native plants satisfying in a faintly patriotic way. It is of course the access to a wider range of our unique native flora that makes NZ gardens different to those around the world. And when all is said and done, flowers are seasonal and ephemeral whereas form, substance and structure is with us all year round. Because our native plants are evergreen, they are ideal for filling that role.

My constant companion is Ralph, who is sniffing out rabbit trails here, so I end up with rather a lot of photos of his rear end disappearing under foliage. In this photo is Chionochloa rubra with our toetoe (Austroderia fulvida) behind. These native grasses make splendid garden plants where there is sufficient space.

“You’ve got to know when to go”

“You’ve got to know when to hold ’em
Know when to fold ’em
Know when to walk away
And know when to run”

I found myself humming to Kenny Rogers this morning, although I had the lyrics saying ‘You gotta know when to go”. We are not going anywhere but we have metaphorically shut the garden gates to the general public. It is very odd, the end of a personal era. But, for us, it is the right thing to do. As I have said countless times in recent weeks, ‘I do not want to be the Tim Shadbolt or Winston Peters of the gardening world.’

New Zealanders know instantly what I mean, For overseas readers, Tim Shadbolt and Winston Peters were both major players – institutions, even – on our political landscape over several decades. But they did not know when to retire and it is very sad to see old men devastated when even the patience of their most loyal voter base finally runs out. It is way better to go out on a high note.

“What a difference a day makes
24 little hours”

If I was in a small, town garden, I am sure I would enjoy continuing to open to the public and meeting many different people – but we are not. To get our garden to opening standard is such a major undertaking that I can not face doing it for another year. It is time for us to call it a day and to just accept the occasional specialist tour group to keep us on our hosting toes.

It was a very successful garden festival this year and that is a great memory to hold close as we choose to enter a new era as gardening recluses.

We laughed out loud when our artist in residence this festival, Jennifer Duval-Smith, presented us with the perfect present. We had been discussing linen tea towels and this one is beautiful linen. However, it was Jennifer who laughed when I rushed off the trim the packaging to fit in a frame I had in order to have a second version of it for our staff kitchen in the shed. “It is like a cat,” she said. You give it a gift and it is more interested in the box.”

I will still keep writing, taking photos and posting on line, Mark will continue breeding new plants, we will continue gardening. Zach and Lloyd are staying with us. It will be very quiet but we will enjoy that, too.

Thanks to any and all who have visited us over the past 35 years. None of us can know what the future holds but it won’t be another garden festival for us. It has been a real pleasure meeting so many of you. Thank you for coming.

Poroporoaki

Farewell,

Abbie

A solitary blackbird in the now-empty carpark

Despatches from our last garden festival

I will admit that I felt a sense of relief to wake this morning to the sound of rain. Experience has taught me that it means a slow start to the morning and that takes a bit of pressure off us all. It was forecast to clear later in the day and it did so that was fine.

It is a busy garden festival. Not on a par with what we refer to as the Covid festival in 2020 – that period of time when the rest of the world was in the worst grip of the pandemic but we were gloriously Covid-free in these islands of ours with no restrictions, bar a closed border. So many people were clearly suffering from cabin fever that they grabbed the opportunity to travel internally. That was also the year we reopened after being closed for seven years and the crowds came.

So not quite in that league in 2022 but we are not far off it. Clearly the message has been received that this is our last festival and we are closing to the general public as of this Sunday at 5pm. Lots of lovely people who have really enjoyed the garden – and lots of vehicles to be managed.

All blues together
A tidy row of whites

Car parking, like clean toilets, is one of those back room logistical issues that we spend a lot of time and effort managing but that is rarely noticed. Yesterday’s brief triumph by Zach was only commented on by one visitor but amused us all greatly. For one beautiful moment in time, he had the car parking area colour toned – the blues grouped together, the whites in a row, the silvers across under the trees. True, there was one blue car in the wrong place and those of us with OCD tendencies wondered if we could locate the driver to move that car to the blue section. But then somebody left and red cars started arriving. The moment was over.

“Excuse me, madam, would you mind moving your car to the blue area?”

I was doubly amused when told that our friend who helps with the parking over the weekends had been attempting to get the front row alternating black and white vehicles but had not managed that feat on the day.

La Mer in concert

Rain caused us great anxiety on Sunday because the concert in the garden by La Mer was weather dependent. We had to make a call by 11am when the rain was still falling, albeit forecast to clear. We decided to take the risk and, miraculously, the rain stopped shortly after, any surface water drained quickly and it was full steam ahead. The carpark was controlled chaos and we had to stop latecomers at the gate to get them to park on the road, something we try hard to avoid on our narrow rural road. The contrast between the busy entrance and the calmness just through the courtyard behind the wall was magical as the strains of music wafted across the front lawn and through the house gardens. It was everything I hoped for in terms of ambience and a delightful experience.  

That is our Dudley quietly working the crowd in the hope of delicious tidbits
Small servings of these sorts of tidbits is what he was hoping for – and quite probably scored. Cakes from Rose at the Garden Cake Kitchen

True, the window of fine weather didn’t last but we had 80 minutes of music, coffee, cake and savoury platters in pleasant, calm and warm conditions before the heavy rain returned. People may have been a tad damp as they left, but at least the spell in the middle had its own magic.

A coach tour came in yesterday and large groups can come and go in something of a blur but one participant stood out. A gentleman clad in black told me he was not a gardener, he was an artist; he liked to view gardens as pictures. When he returned from his walk, the coach was waiting for him so the conversation was brief but he assured us we are true artistes. Vanitas was mentioned but Jennifer, our artist in residence, gently suggested that perhaps it was more memento mori – a reminder of our mortality and the transience of life. He mentioned one particular view that he adored – our ‘large pond’ framed so perfectly and the end point punctuated by – wait for it – a stone sacrificial altar.

Is that a sacrificial altar I see at the end of the view-line?

The mention of the large pond had me mentally picturing down in the park meadow where we have large ponds but for the life of me I could not think what constituted a sacrificial altar in that area. Further questioning ascertained that he was talking about the sunken garden and the altar was in fact the large stone millwheel that Mark’s parents repurposed as a garden table with stone benches to sit on.

I may never look at the millwheel with the same eyes again. We are rather too down to earth to regard ourselves as true artistes here but at least he found plenty of rewarding pictures in our garden so we can’t be too bad on our proportions and definition.

I must pay tribute to the small team who back us up this week. Lloyd and Zach are a tower of strength and able to handle problems both large and small. And we are blessed to have good friends who come and help us, too. We simply couldn’t do it without them.  

The Centuria Taranaki Garden Festival finishes for 2022 this coming Sunday. It will continue next year but without us. We will be bowing out on Sunday. Three days left.

Counting down to Friday

The garden festival started 33 years ago as the Taranaki Rhododendron Festival and to this day, I rate R. polyandrum as one of the loveliest sights as well as one of the most fragrant.

We are down to the last few days before we open this coming Friday as part of the Centuria Taranaki Garden Festival. I may write about how we prepare our very large garden for opening one day soon, but not today. There is still too much to do. All I will say is that it never ceases to amaze me how the final garden round (The Great Rake Over, as Mark calls it) brings all the earlier work together to present the garden at its best – or certainly its tidiest.

Some people prefer the classic ball truss on rhododendrons and we have those, too – in this case, ‘Noyo Chief’

At the risk of being repetitive, this is our final festival so a last chance to visit our garden. We have no plans to open for the general public after this event from the coming Friday 28 October to Sunday 6 November.

I am really hoping for fine weather next Sunday 30 October for our Music in the Garden event and also for a good turnout because other people are involved so I feel personally responsible that it be a success for them. Music is from La Mer, cake sold by the slice from Rose at the Garden Cake Kitchen, pre-ordered savoury platters from Becky at Humble Grazing and the Etta Coffee Van on site selling teas and cold drinks as well as coffee. Our gardener, Zach, will also be selling his plants including the sought-after Stipa gigantea, Curculigo recurvata, Elegia capensis and assorted perennials. Bring folding chairs or a rug and, if you wish, your own bottle of wine.

Azaleas are also members of the rhododendron family and can come in colours that may be described as vibrant or garish, depending on your liking for them. I can go with vibrant when they light up an area which would otherwise be just green.

I am offering free garden tours at 11am on Friday 28 Oct, Tuesday 1 and Thursday 3 Nov. Just turn up five minutes early if you want to join one of these.

Look at this cycad cone. It is from the very handsome  Lepidozamia peroffskyana, sometimes known – Wiki tells me – as Scaly Zamia or Pineapple Cycad. It is an Australian native coming from areas that are more warm-temperate than tropical which will be why it is thriving here. I see it is one of the tallest cycads and can reach up to seven metres tall but it is clearly going to take a long time to get anywhere near that height here. We cut the cone off because our experience is that if we leave it on the plant, it reacts by turning the new growth yellow which is distinctly unsightly. Neither of us being botanists, we are uncertain why this happens although Mark vaguely mentioned ‘something to do with a chemical reaction’.

Lepidozamia peroffskyana

Ralph was particularly fascinated by it and felt sure that the segments should be edible. There is not much that bypasses that dog’s nose. There is some anxiety here about how Ralph will cope with festival, this being his first (and last, as it turns out). We bought a new chest harness for him in case we have to keep him on a lead or tie him up but he is fairly sure that harness is a punishment and an instrument of torture. Dudley dog is more experienced and likely to take on his seasonal role of Carpark Biosecurity Officer as he optimistically checks all arrivals for hidden food.

Our swan song. Our final festival.

The summer gardens are our newest area and starting to mature well

This is it, folks. The die has been cast, the decision made. This is our last festival. I am referring to the Centuria Taranaki Garden Festival that starts in under three weeks – on Friday 28 October.  This is likely to be your last chance to visit our garden.

Much and all as we love meeting you and seeing you enjoy our garden, we would rather go out on a high note than fade away. The garden is looking its very best – or it will be in another couple of weeks. This festival looks as though it will be a cracker event and that seems a good time for us to say farewell before we close the gates to visitors.

If you are one of the people who say, “I have been meaning to come for ages,” this is your last opportunity. We won’t stop gardening or sell up but we will be closed to the public from November 7 and we won’t be opening next year.

La Mer

We are particularly keen that our music in the garden event on Sunday 30 October be a success. We can’t control the weather (and the music from La Mer is weather dependent) but we have everything else in hand. La Mer is a four-piece group playing a mix of gypsy swing and French chanson which blends delightfully with a garden setting. 

Delights from the Garden Cake Kitchen, available by the slice on the day

Not only is Rose from the Garden Cake Kitchen selling her dreamy cakes by the slice, but there is more.

Humble Grazing’s platters need to be pre-ordered
Look! I have been lucky enough to try Humble Grazing’s platters before. This is most of one taken out of the box and plattered for our consumption. And consume it we did, with great gusto.

Becky from Humble Grazing is offering pre-ordered platters for those of a more savoury persuasion. Becky can be contacted through her Facebook page, her website under the name of Humble Grazing or Instagram. If the weather forces a cancellation of the music and you have pre-ordered a platter, you can pick it up from here and take it back to your accommodation to consume. You are welcome to bring a bottle of wine to accompany your platter – or indeed bring your own picnic.

Good coffee and more from Etta

But we will also have the Etta Coffee Van on site selling both hot and cold drinks. These include iced coffee and chocolate (the day may even be hot!), smoothies and a range of organic teas, if coffee is not your favoured afternoon drink.

Seating is limited so maybe add a picnic blanket or folding chairs if you want to be seated. La Mer will be playing from 2.00pm onwards. Please come. There is no additional charge for the event – just the garden entry fee of $10. You are free to sit and enjoy the music or to wander the garden at your leisure. For those of us who are still Covid-anxious, we have plenty of space and being able to physically distance is not an issue.

Jennifer

Auckland botanical artist, Jennifer Duval-Smith is our artist in residence. Three of her four nature journaling workshops are already fully booked and there are just a few places left on her Tuesday 1 Nov workshop centred on the grandeur and glory of rhododendrons.

If you are interested in my garden tours on Friday 28 Oct, Tuesday 1 and Thursday 3 Nov, no bookings are needed. Just be here at 11am and we will be starting from the main lawn. These tours last between about 75 to 90 minutes but you don’t have to stay the whole distance. That said, Mark is in awe at my ability to enter the garden with a group and return later with pretty much the same number as I started.

And it will all end on November 6 when we close our gates (metaphorically speaking).

Farewell, poroporoaki, sayonara, adieu,

Abbie and Mark.