This is not a picture of the fifth hakea I have murdered in my garden. The hakea in question has taken up residence in my compost heap, a carbonised shell of its former self. Am now officially banning myself from fraternising with any member of the genus. I imagine this will be welcome news to all the hakeas sitting on garden nursery shelves in the Canberra region who have taken to hiding amongst the wisteria when they see me coming. Not that I'm swearing off the proteaceae family all together, the above is a splendid Leucospermum cordifolium x glabrum specimen that is, at least the last time I looked, still alive. Fingers crossed that it remains that way.
Words I Like
- "Show me your garden and I shall tell you what you are." Alfred Austin
- "My whole life has been spent waiting for an epiphany, a manifestation of God's presence, the kind of transcendent magical experience that lets you see your place in the big picture. And that is what I had with my first compost heap." Bette Midler
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The High Line
When I grow up and become a real gardener I'd like to spend some time wandering the High Line, digging in some seeds and following the ribbon of green through the city.
Photo from Jonathan Flaum
Sidekick
Just wanted to introduce you to my trusty gardening companion. Keeper of the tools, spiller of the seeds and purveyor of the best mud pies money can buy!
Magnolias A Go-Go
I inherited this magnolia with the house and what a sad and sorry little specimen it was. I think last year there were three flowers in total and even these were only very distant cousins to what one would like to see on a magnolia. Shortly after this dismal attempt at flowering, my mother, La Grande Dame of my Personal Horticultural Circle, took to it with a pair of loppers and a sharp little saw, completely beating it into submission and what I thought would be an early grave. For a number of months I averted my eyes in a guilty fashion until one morning I happened to notice the swell of buds on the end of a branch. Big, juicy buds that made my heart go pitter pat. Fast forward to now and we are inundated with magnificent flowers at the beginning of their bloom.
Thus I have learnt valuable horticultural lesson no. 1: If all else fails go at it hammer and tongs with something sharp and watch it change its tune.
I hope all is well in your garden.
Seeds by Stealth
After yesterday's Jack and the Beanstalk affair, I am approaching seed planting in the manner of a stealth bomber. When the small person is otherwise occupied, I have been swooping with my Russell Lupin seeds collected from last year's plants and depositing them in little unmarked graves in the hopes that they will not be disinterred by canines or offspring for scientific purposes.
Ça Commence
Scabiosa, a most unfortunate name for a perfectly pleasant plant. We've just been scattering seeds with wanton abandon in the hopes of great drifts of flowers in the late spring. Juding by the way the 2 year old upturned a hundred or so in the one spot, we may only get one towering plant à la Jack in the Beanstalk and I'll wake up one morning to find her shinning her way up the trunk. As long as she comes back down with the pot of gold, that's fine with me!
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