Tag Archives: Abbie’s column

Abbie’s newspaper columns

Trouble with Buxus

A friend with a garden maintenance business rang recently to discuss buxus blight. This is a fungal ailment which attacks box plants. It was first found in New Zealand in 1998 and has been a problem in Auckland for some time. Buxus being an infinitely useful but deathly dull plant, we made contingency plans early, in case the fungus ever struck our modest metreage.

I have just paced out our box hedging and we only have around 25 metres of it plus one established topiary, so it does not exactly feature large in our garden. From the start, we figured that buxus did not warrant spraying to keep it healthy so we have always been ready to rip the plants out and burn them if necessary. We have alternatives out the back, so to speak, so taking out the buxus hedges was only ever going to be a minor inconvenience.

But Garden Maintenance Friend was horrified when I suggested he advise his clients to rip out their box hedging and replace it with something which does not get blight. Most of them have a great deal more than 25 metres and do not have the advantage of alternative plants for instant replacement. He suggested he would far rather I write a column on the topic and that his clients may take the advice better from the newspaper than from him.

The bottom line is that if you have buxus blight (or fungus cylindrocladium) in your garden, you have a problem and if you don’t do something about it, it will spread rapidly. Doing something about it is easier said than done in this day and age when a severely restricted range of chemicals is available to the home gardener. There are no heavy duty fungicides that can be bought over the counter unless you have a spray certificate. Which means that if you want to go the spraying way, you will have to employ a certificated operator. But we are also strongly of the view that gardeners should take more responsibility for their actions and that spraying a utility plant like buxus is simply unjustifiable. It is time we asked many more questions about the spraying practices which have become the norm in this country over the last four decades.

There appear to be three main ailments that hit buxus and if you have plants which are looking poorly, it may not be the dreaded blight. A dead patch in one area just above the ground is most likely to be animal urine – territory marking by dogs or a tom cat. I am not at all sure how you stop the offending animals, but it is no reason to rip out your plant.

Zephyr the dog treats the buxus hedge with some contempt.

Zephyr the dog treats the buxus hedge with some contempt. (Photograph: Abbie Jury)

There is a pinky mildew (called volutella buxi) which has been around a long time. It disfigures the plant but is not usually fatal. It takes hold in wounds so if you clip your hedge hard, it is likely to be more apparent soon after. Healthy plants can outgrow volutella so a bit of effort may retain your hedges.

The dreaded buxus blight has cut a swathe through the United Kingdom’s millions of box plants since the mid nineties, through Auckland’s since the late nineties and is likely to be the cause of dying buxus reported in Taranaki. It is the problematic one. It starts as dirty dark spots on the leaves and black streaks on the stems and spreads rapidly, causing the plant to lose all its leaves and usually die. It often shows up initially as dead patches along the top whereas the sides will appear to be fine. Research has shown it takes only five hours to start multiplying so if you ignore it, it may well surprise you by how fast it takes hold. It is impervious to cold (most fungi prefer warm, moist conditions) which is why it has taken hold in the UK. This means it does not slow down in winter. It is only very dry conditions which it dislikes and as most of Taranaki is humid most of the year, we have splendid conditions for it. Being a fungus, it increases from spores so it can be airborne which means that if you live in town and your neighbours have it, sure as eggs you will get it too. And as the spores survive in decomposing leaves for a year, it is nigh on impossible to eradicate. You may burn the offending plant (avoid the compost heap for this one) but you are not going to be able to pick up every dead leaf. You also need to disinfect all tools which have been in contact with it – household bleach apparently works.

Prevention is better than a cure. There is a tendency for owners of buxus hedges to cut them hard twice a year and, ever obliging as they are, they sprout afresh. But over a period of years, the hedges get increasingly dense as well as being filled with dead leaves which sit in the middle. I was a bit surprised when I overheard a buxus expert holding forth recently on the need to thin out buxus hedging and topiary shapes and to vacuum out the accumulation of dead leaves. Really, I thought. But she is right. And if you want to reduce the chances of getting a terminal case of buxus blight, you may like to head out now with the nippers, the clippers, the secateurs and the blower vac. Some good hygiene, housekeeping and air movement will reduce the chance of blight getting hold. But it is not a cure and personally I am not so enamoured of buxus that I think it justifies that sort of effort.

I am told that two sprays of copper a week apart with a wetting agent added can help, even cure it, so if you have affected plants you may like to try this approach. Mark is surprised that copper, which is anti bacterial and not a fungicide, could be so effective. And the information from the UK where buxus blight has been extensively researched, certainly does not bear out the copper theory. If copper is working here, it is unlikely that we have found a wonderfully simple solution and are therefore cleverer than our overseas colleagues. It is far more likely that the cause is not in fact fungus cylindrocladium. That said, it is worth a try if the alternative is the drastic step of total replacement.

If you have to rip out your buxus, burn it all. And don’t replace with more buxus. You will need to be looking to some of the alternatives that clip – coprosma, camellia, teucrium, corokia or the like. There are no species of buxus that are resistant to cylindrocladium. The fungus does not reside in the soil so treating the soil or replacing it is a waste of effort. It is the plants that are the host.

Sadly, for owners of buxus hedging, there does not appear to be any good news as far as fungus cylindrocladium goes. The only good news overall is that it may curtail the slavish use of buxus as hedging and edging in every second garden.

The Vireya Family

I recall some years ago having two conversations in a short space of time where people regaled me with tales of coming to buy plants from Mark in the early days of our nursery. Both shared a similar experience. “It was at least 20 minutes,” said one, “before I was confident that I was going to be allowed to buy a plant.” Readers who know and like my Mark will be smiling at this point, recognising the likely truth in these accounts. He, himself, sees humour in the retelling but retorts slightly defensively that of course he was right. There is no point in selling elite and difficult plants to people who will fail with them. It will only backfire all around. It is a philosophy of retailing to which I am forward to returning.

I have one plant here which I insist on an interview before allowing anybody to buy it. It is very slow to grow, scarce as hens’ teeth and likely not available anywhere else, expensive and I don’t want to waste precious plants on unsuitable people. It is a tiny vireya species, saxafragoides. After about five years, you get a little bun of a plant measuring around 7cm across. It is reported to be the most cold hardy of the vireyas (it is in fact the mother of hybrids Jiminy Cricket, Saxon Glow and Saxon Blush) and also the most tolerant of damp conditions. But not only is it very slow to grow, I have also not had great success with it in the garden, despite, I thought, giving it optimum conditions.

A decade or more ago, vireya rhododendrons were all the rage. A fashion plant of the day, it was predicted by some that these sub tropical rhododendrons would supplant the hardier, traditional rhododendrons in areas where they could be grown. Mark even heard one self proclaimed expert claim that vireyas were as hardy as maddenii rhododendrons. They are not. Nor are they as easy to grow well in the garden as many of us hoped. In fact as we go through the process of winding down the nursery, vireyas are the crop that we most often agree we will not be sorry to farewell out of commercial production.

Don’t get me wrong. We are vireya aficionados. They are a wonderful family of plants and we would not be without them. Our association with vireyas goes back to the mid 1950s when Mark’s father collected a form of R.macgregoriae in New Guinea and brought it back here to Tikorangi. In those days border control was considerably more lax. That plant still survives in the garden here and mass flowers every year without fail. It was the start of a father and son plant breeding dynasty which has seen more than twenty five different hybrids named and released on the market over the years and is still continuing.

Sweet Cherry

Vireyas are deceptive because they are very easy to put roots on, as we say. In other words, even home gardeners with no special facilities can have success with cuttings (although the aforementioned saxafragoides may be a challenge). They grow quickly (except for saxafragoides). Because they come from the equatorial areas where day length is pretty standard all year round and seasons are not defined by temperature change, they don’t have the set growing season that other plants show. So if plants are relatively warm, they will put on growth spurts most of the year. They also have the endearing habit of flowering randomly and often over many months. Indeed some are almost never without a flower and if you have enough plants in your garden, you can pretty well guarantee something in flower for twelve months of the year.

The down side is that they have pathetically little root systems and even well established plants can up and die on you when your back is turned. Being sub tropical, they are frost tender (any touch of frost will burn them and more than about three or four degrees of frost will kill them). With such small root systems, they are also extremely vulnerable to wet conditions and many soil fungi can take them out.

Readers who have lost vireya plants will be heartened to hear that it may not be their gardening skills at fault. In nursery production, we have always had a better cuttings take on vireyas than any other production line. But from then on, it is mostly an up hill battle. We always have a much higher death rate in the finished crop of vireyas than any other plant line we have grown over the past twenty five years. It can be very disheartening going through and pulling out the deaths. And we work harder to get bushy, well shaped plants than any other plant line. I figured this year that they are easily the most under priced crop we grow and were we staying in production, I would want a much higher wholesale price to justify the effort.

Compounding all this is that, of course, it is the highly desirable varieties which are the hardest to keep alive. Many if not most of the fascinating species are difficult. The named hybrids with big, luscious, scented trumpets are also more vulnerable whereas the utility toughies are more reliable but less coveted. Ain’t that always the way?

If you want to try taking vireya cuttings, select a stem of new growth which has hardened sufficiently to be firm. Make a clean cut across the base and then take a sliver off the outer green stem layer for about 2.5 centimetres from the base on two sides. It is very important to take it on both sides because this is where the roots are formed on vireyas. Reduce the cutting to two leaves only. If you have rooting hormone, it will increase success but you can manage without it. Stick the cutting in potting mix and place it somewhere warm but not in direct sun. You can cover it with a loose, clear plastic bag or a cut-off plastic PET bottle if you want to keep it warmer. Keep the potting mix damp but not saturated. You may see roots forming in about six weeks or so but they are best left undisturbed for three or four months.

Well grown vireyas are a delight and a great addition to the garden. But as a plant family, they are just not quite as easy and bullet proof as some of us hoped back in their hey day. They are great container plants and excellent for people who like to make a fuss of their plants but are certainly not an easy care option for the garden in the way that their hardier cousins are.

A Garden with a View (in Italy)

I would like to say I am fresh back from the south of Italy, but fresh might be slightly overstating the case. Safely back perhaps. I have never been to this southern area before. We didn’t find anybody who spoke English in Palermo (Sicily), either local or traveller. No English at all and no understanding of any English which gave some impetus to learning a few basic words and phrases in Italian from the back of Lonely Planet Guide.

On a previous visit, Mark and I tripped around the lakes district in the north and saw grand established gardens in the Italian tradition. I had been anticipating similar evidence of great wealth in pockets of the south at least, but if they are there, we did not find them. Sicily, it must be said, has a much hotter and drier climate, more akin to its close neighbours in North Africa, which makes gardening difficult and it remains an area of considerable poverty.

I photocopied the relevant pages from renowned garden writer Charles Quest Ritson’s weighty tome, Gardens of Europe, and following his advice, we sought out Orto Botanico di Palermo (the Bot Gardens). I had thought to find a little more than we did in terms of style and presentation. They hold a notable collection of cacti and succulents which was displayed with all the panache of a working nursery. All plants were in matched terracotta pots serried along wire shelves. If you have a passion for cacti and succulents, there may have been much of interest but I find them distinctly less than riveting.

Plants in serried ranks at Orto Botanico

Plants in serried ranks at Orto Botanico

The glasshouses were sparsely furnished with more plants on wire shelves. There were some fine trees growing amongst the dry dust outside but most looked a little hard done by. A recent planting of cycads in the tough kikuya grass was just getting established, although there were more mature specimens of both palms and cycads. A most remarkable plant was a fig tree (ficus macrophylla). Now over 160 years old, it was of enormous proportions and clearly working on a bid for total domination. It puts roots out from on high (known as aerial roots) and when they reach the ground, they bed in giving a multi stemmed effect on a rather intimidating scale.

The ficus bid for total domination at Orto Botanico

The ficus bid for total domination at Orto Botanico

The avenue of false kapok trees (Chorisia speciosa) was attractive but overall I was a little underwhelmed by Palermo’s Orto Botanico.

On the mainland, we sought out Villa Cimbrone in Ravello on the Amalfi Coast. It was a slight mission to get there. The public transport is frequent and cheap, but not for those of a nervous disposition. In this area, the roads are extremely narrow, bordered on one side by an unprotected drop of hundreds of metres to the sea, extremely winding with corners so tight that at times the buses have to reverse up and make more than one attempt to get around, all the while being challenged by speeding Vespas, Fiats and Smart Cars driven by fearless locals.

Villa Cimbrone was actually landscaped by an Englishman at the turn of the twentieth century on the site of a neglected Roman estate and is still hailed as a significant garden in the English-Italian style. Now a hotel, I can only say that it must have been grander in its early days. The Avenue of Immensity formed the central axis and it was certainly impressive. It was an extremely long and wide sweep which led us down under festoons of wisteria, flanked by pinus pinea and platanus orientalis, statuary and terracotta pots. It culminated in an open Doric temple leading to the Terrace of Infinity. This was a large belvedere balcony adorned by eighteenth century marble busts, with an astounding view of the Amalfi Coast and the hugely charming villages and citrus groves which tumble down the near vertical hills.

The Terrace of Infinity at Villa Cimbrone

The Terrace of Infinity at Villa Cimbrone

But that was as good as it got. The brochure claimed “an infinite variety of exotic flowers and plants” beside the Avenue of Immensity – but these were mostly agapanthus, with, from memory, some cleomes. The Seat Of Mercury, a large bronze statue of the gods’ messenger at rest, was set in a dirt bowl. The rose terrace was so poor it was ludicrous. Even allowing for the fact that it was only late spring, I could not believe that the roses were ever going to impress and row upon row of pink and red bedding begonias are too municipal altogether.

The gothic crypt (now a functions centre) was magic. I do like the gothic style. The cloister was attractive – a Norman-Sicilian-Arabian courtyard. The traditional Italian statuary fitted right in to the whole environment and gave me cause yet again to reflect that it is no wonder that it looks so out of place in New Zealand gardens where we lack the history and the tradition which anchors this ornamentation in context. But it is the architecture and the setting which are the redeeming features of this garden, certainly not current gardening practice.

In terms of gardening, the most charming sight I saw was a simple scene of wildflowers at the Palatine in Rome and that was clearly serendipity.

Serendipity at the Palatine in Rome

Serendipity at the Palatine in Rome

I did feel a little vindicated on another score. A month or two ago, I wrote a column debunking the myth of Marlborough’s vineyards being romantic and evocative of rural Italy, an opinion which caused a colleague to take umbrage. The vineyards, olive and citrus groves I saw in Italy bore no resemblance at all the sterile mono culture of Marlborough with its rows of tanalised posts and wires and not a single stray plant allowed to creep into the environment. Italy does not appear to have our obsession with Round Up so there is a profusion of growth and the vineyards and orchards are small, mixed and cheek by jowl. Instead of milled, tanalised timber, supports were crafted from branches which looked similar to our native manuka. While I may not have been impressed by the formal gardening efforts I saw on this visit, the agriculture and rural landscape were impossibly romantic and about as far from New Zealand practice as you can get. Given that Italy has been that way for a very long time, I suspect that their approach is considerably more sustainable than the green desert technique we favour in our own countryside.

Earl Grey or Assam?

Elder Daughter gave me a pedometer one birthday and I was a little surprised to find that in the course of a normal day, I cover around 8km. When I come to London, I am deeply grateful that I am used to being on my feet. It prepares me in some way for the great distances I end up walking.

With a few days before London daughter and I brave Ryan Air (even more budget than EasyJet) for a flight to Sicily, I decided to follow up some of the private gardens open under the National Gardens Scheme. We have followed this with interest on the Living Channel, where the programme Open Gardens charts the process of assessment, selection and open day.

There is real status in being accepted by the NGS, even though it is entirely charitable and garden owners may open for as little as three hours on one particular day of the year. On Sunday afternoon, I braved pouring rain and shoes that leaked to find my way to Chiswick on the banks of the Thames where there was a cluster of four gardens open for the afternoon. I think this enclave of antique real estate is referred to as a mews. Highly valued terrace houses. Terraced housing means that the only access to the rear garden is … through the house. Fortunately the rain stopped. It certainly gives opening one’s garden to the public a new dimension, having a few score of people tramping through your home. This being London, the gardens are the width of the house – in other words, as little as one room and a passageway wide or maybe five to seven metres. One garden was serving teas in a miniscule back plot where six people were a crowd. But old style. Nobody asked here if you wanted gumboot tea or Earl Grey. No, in a line which I must store away for future use, I was offered Earl Grey or Assam.

Earl Grey or Assam?

I was interested in the whole process of assessment and selection of the NGS gardens (it can be a bit of a thorny issue, that one, as some of us know well in Taranaki) and also to set benchmarks and establish points of comparison for our festival gardens, both on that Sunday and the following day when I travelled to another small garden which opened by appointment. As a garden visitor, I certainly felt privileged to gain entry to private gardens which would otherwise be closed to me. These are domestic gardens which don’t even pretend to sit up alongside the renowned top end UK gardens of private origin, such as Sissinghurst and Great Dixter. And what can I say? It was a privilege. They are different to gardens at home. Our Rhododendron Festival gardens can hold their heads up high. I will say no more.

I had planned to finally make my pilgrimage to Wisley, the Royal Horticultural Gardens south of London. Their website showed much improved public transport links but once here, I realised that even so a day visit was going to involve five hours of travel and multiple changes. I was not that determined after all. Fortune may favour the bold but I am not suicidal so I won’t drive in London and from the tranquillity of home in Tikorangi, I tend to underestimate the effort it takes to travel across and through this city, let alone heading out to farther reaches. So I compromised with a return visit to Kew, the Royal Botanic Gardens which are easily reached by public transport.

I doubt that Kew could ever disappoint. They are botanic gardens on a grand scale. The British were great collectors and while I feel uncomfortable at some of the museums which represent acquisition and at times pillaging and theft from around the world on a scale which defies comprehension, the plant collecting and botanical classification work is much safer territory.

Walking in the tree tops at Kew

There is something for everyone at Kew. On an early summer’s day when the forecast was for temperatures around 25 degrees, it was in fact closer to about 12 degrees but the place was still teaming with people, including many children (it is mid term here) most of whom seemed to be called names like Oscar, Imogen and Henry and who were extremely well behaved. However, Kew is very spacious and can accommodate large numbers of people, although I probably met a goodly proportion of them on the newly opened treetop walkway. Treetop walkways are remarkable feats of engineering and Kew’s one has apparently been installed with minimal damage to the environment, avoiding even the visually polluting oversized pylons which seem to be a feature in others. For mild sufferers of vertigo such as me, they lose a little impact because one avoids looking straight down, preferring instead the safety of long views, and they are perhaps more novelty than revelation. But Kew must be leading the way in making public gardens and parks educative and everywhere the drive to inform and to conserve is threaded through the garden visitor experience. I can understand the use of some novelty and gimmickry if the outcome is positive. The importance of places such as Kew, set in incredibly overcrowded and hyped cities, can not be overstated, let alone the contribution to global conservation through the botanical research and collections.

The Kew experience

I was most delighted by the woodland plantings of herbaceous material, by the alpine gardens and, surprisingly, by an open air photographic exhibition. The International Garden Photographer of the Year is available at www.igpoty.com if you want to see some lovely imagery. The alpine gardens are interesting because our climate at home is just too warm and humid to manage this restrained style of display but the woodland and herbaceous plantings are an area where I gathered ideas and learned from established practice.

And nothing to do with gardening, but I was amused to see Harter and Loveless Solicitors on Caledonian Road. I wonder if Mr Harter does matrimonials while Mr Loveless is forever destined to do neutral conveyancing?

In Praise of Trees

Autumn is a time to look at trees even if we can’t compete with the seemingly endless blazing colour of countries like Canada. A friend from Te Popo Garden, inland from Stratford, commented in passing that it didn’t get much better than last weekend with the sun streaming through the autumn leaves on the trees. We have had remarkably little wind recently and a sharp drop in temperatures from the Indian summer straight into winter chill, so it is shaping up to be a splendid display.

It should not be necessary to point out that you only get spectacular autumn colour on deciduous trees which shed all their leaves each year. I thought everybody knew that, just as I thought that everybody knew that our native flora is pretty well all evergreen. Ergo, we do not get autumn colour from our native plants. This did not stop an enquiry a couple of months ago about whether we have places noted for autumn colour in Taranaki and (wait for it) were any of these native trees, for example a grove of kauris. I could accept that the enquirer did not know that kauris do not occur naturally this far south, but I did wonder what had happened to general knowledge that nobody in the chain of this particular organisation had picked up on the fact that our native plants do not colour up in the way that some deciduous plants do. There are subtle seasonal colour changes at best in our native flora but for the golden leaves or the fiery reds and oranges of autumn, you must look to imported deciduous trees and shrubs such as maples, poplars, parrotias, gleditsias and cornus.

It is the sharp drop in temperatures which triggers the plant to stop feeding its leaves and let them die and drop. Inland areas are colder at night so they get significantly more impressive autumn colour than those of us closer to the coast who just gradually drift from one season into another. And coastal points northwards (Auckland and Northland) get even less autumn colour. Travellers in the tropics will know that you don’t get autumn colour at all in hot climates.

That said, Prunus Awanui has been a vision of golden leaf this past week. The wisterias and rugosa roses always surprise me with their autumn colour and the grape vine which covers the large verandah out from my office is a delight every year. It looks as if the sun is shining on even the greyest of autumn days.

But while admiring the trees in autumn, gardeners may also like to do some critical analysis on the merits of the different trees in their garden. We have been talking recently about the failure to differentiate between short term nurse trees and long term trees.

In our windy country, we need nurse trees. They are a quick and cheap option to grow in order to provide some protection so that longer term, quality trees (which by their very nature tend to be slow growing) can get established. And because nurse trees grow quickly, they can give height and impact in a garden in a surprisingly short space of time. But few nurse trees in our climate age gracefully and there comes a time when decisions need to made about which are worth keeping and which have frankly passed their use-by date. Not all trees are equal and not all trees improve with age.

Many gardeners make one of two mistakes. They either overplant badly and then fail to discriminate a few years down the track as to which are the good long term trees worth looking after, even if it means cutting out the filler trees. Or they plant specimen trees out in exposed areas in solitary confinement.
In using nurse trees, you are learning from nature. When bush regenerates, the nurse plants are the first to get established and to create some cover. In that protected environment, the longer term trees come through and are forced up in search of light. In due course they supersede those nurse plants. Without the protection and microclimate of nurse trees, they can be too exposed, stunted and often multi trunked because they do not need to shoot up in search of light.

Trees are going to become a great deal more important in the immediate future. The talk about carbon footprints, climate change and sustainability is not just a fad which will fade away in a few months. We are in a time of radical change and long term trees will be part of our future and quite possibly part of the survival of our planet. The day may not be far away when we are shamed by our outdoor furniture made from Indonesian hardwoods.

While tiny town sections are not going to accommodate forest giants, neither is an espaliered apple tree going to save the planet (though it might help feed the family and taste better than cool store apples). But gardeners with a bit of space (or non gardeners for that matter) could and should be thinking about planting long term trees and treasuring existing trees which have the potential to outlive most of us. By long term trees, I mean those with a lifespan which will be fifty years at least, maybe a hundred and some have the potential to live many hundreds of years if they are planted in the right position. In New Zealand we have a tendency to think in terms of ten or twenty years and far too few trees are allowed to ever reach maturity.

So by all means plant pretty flowering cherries, albizzias (though I think I have seen those on a banned list somewhere), gleditsias, paulownias and birches. But see these for what they are, which are short term trees and look to using them as cover to get some good trees of potential longevity established. It doesn’t have to be a mighty kauri, rimu or totara though goodness knows, we plant too few of our majestic native trees. There are some magnificent members of the conifer family which are not native – the sciadopitys or Japanese umbrella pine is a gem and the somewhat maligned Norfolk Island pine is a great statement of form on the landscape. Magnolias can live a very long time and are unparalleled for splendour in flower. Liriodendrons give brilliant autumn colour, as do scarlet oaks, ginkgo biloba and even plane trees. All get more impressive with age.

If you are unsure what you are doing, seek out advice and never plant any tree anywhere near power lines. It will come off second best in a tangle with the lines companies. The challenge is to make sure that you plant some good, long term trees in your lifetime. What better legacy to leave?