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Hurrah! The shortest day has been and gone and we know we are on the upward turn again, we heave a sigh of relief - even though we know the worst is still to come!
Just a week between brilliant red across my verandah and dwindling red over the verandah, so we know the seasons are beginning to turn very fast now. Yet, even though it's halfway through June, there are still a few sad leaves trying to hang on despite the odds in my garden
And yet by mid-June in the depths of winter the common Snowflake appears. It's botanical name is Leucojum and it multiply's like the clappers, not to be confused with the charming little english Snowdrop - Galanthus, which is not nearly so common or anxious to be first, so waits till July before it appears. NOTE - the so-called english Snowdrop Galanthus is actually not english at all - far from it. It originates from the Middle East and eastern parts of Europe, and it grows in the wild in Iran and around the Caucuses, flowering in late winter and spring there - from January to April - depending on the variety and location. I was lucky enough to be Iran in late May almost 3 years ago, too late to see it flowering, but I did see it's green foliage growing on after it had flowered, as we explored it's natural habitat.
But there are also other June treats if you really look, and the interesting thing is, that June combines the last of the previous seasons treats with a few new seasons treats. Which means you can find some bright colour even in mid-June.
So do look out for winter treats and colour - they are there if you look hard enough! Our other much coveted winter treat in the garden is of course Helleborus, and they will be starting to flower right now - but that is a whole other story!!
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In the spirit of the Famous Five - four garden obsessed women took off down south to have adventures exploring not only southern gardens, but unique landscapes where many of the plants they marvelled over originated from. IS THE GRASS REALLY GREENER ON THE OTHER SIDE THEY ASKED THEMSELVES? - YOU JUDGE!  SO I LEFT THIS - MY BELOVED SUNNY MORNING VERANDAH  AND THIS - MY HINTERLAND - AT THE END OF MY STREET  AND WE CAME TO THIS A FRIENDS QUIRKY GARDEN ON THE WAY SOUTH He is actually a very serious gardener who knows how to grow and propogate very special and sometimes rare plants, but we also love what he does with the numerous topiaries he transplanted from his previous large garden - he created a stunning plant army which is possibly more of a statement in this - his much smaller garden than they ever were spread out tastefully in his large country garden.  From man made cleverly clipped topiaries we drove on till we EVENTUALLY CAME TO THIS GOD'S OWN SCREE GARDEN fashioned by no human hand
 NOT A MOA IN SIGHT HERE EITHER, WHEN, AFTER MANY MORE MILES WE CAME TO THIS - AND MARVELLED AT WHAT THE HAND OF OUR FRIEND COULD DO IN HER GARDEN TO HELP GOD AND NATURE ALONG IN CENTRAL OTAGO. And we also marvelled at the differences between gardens in different regions. What is so different about gardens in Central Otago compared to Canterbury? Using her regional plant knowledge of Central Otago, Karen has created a beautifully designed and planted garden using grasses, in the au naturel style currently popular in northern hemisphere gardens, but which can be done just as exquisitely here, with or without our own native plants and grasses. Although as can be seen from the above picture, a bit of northern hemisphere deciduous planting goes a long way in adding seasonal colour to many New Zealand gardens.
"My garden flourishes without any watering" says Jo Wakelin, who lives in arguably the driest spot in New Zealand.  It felt like an honour to visit Jo's garden with her background and knowledge as the principal lecturer in Horticulture at Otago Polytechnic, and here in her garden you can really see how she practices what she preaches! She is not picky or choosey about growing natives in particular - she just grows what will grow here without watering, in arguably the driest spot in New Zealand. No lawn of course - everything here must be sustainable and thrive on it's own merit. And that is not lawns! So all the tough sustainable plants she has chosen to grow, must be capable of bedding and growing in gravel. The result is nothing looks stressed or dried up - just the opposite. In spite of her environment and the gravel floor, there is a lushness in her garden that many a watered garden has not achieved - is it all about the right plant for the right place?
Passionate about regionally appropriate and sustainable landscaping in dry Central Otago, Jo's plants include Euphorbias in their many and different guises, as well as different varieties of Sedums, Phlomis, Lavenders, Santolina, and Ballota pseudodictamnus. And now - as they say - for something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT  And that is in Dunedin - on the Otago Peninsula - the 'South Seas' Garden of Larnach Castle, where all the plants have originated only in South Pacific countries - you will find no northern hemisphere ring - ins here in the South Seas garden. Only plants native to countries of the South Pacific with that exotic form and flavour which no northern hemisphere plant can attain. There are avenues of Chatham Island Nikau Palms - found only in the Chathams, and Sophora endemic to South America, as well as our own well known New Zealand, Sophora microphylla (Kowhai). And ferns, ferns, ferns! And many other South Pacific species too numerous to mention. All to be found at Larnach Castle - that historical and horticultural gem of the South Pacific.
Where have all the flowers gone?One of the first signs that we are coming to the end of summer is when pernnial foliage loses colour and vigour and flower stems grow long and leggy as flowers start changing into seedheads.  Thalictrum foliage and spent flower heads  When Dahlias start to look raggy and the flowers smaller, and when the seedheads of grasses start to grow through the flowers. It can look pretty in a tired kind of way, but the flowers are increasingly more sparse and those that are left are tired and raggedy.  Even the pink spikes of Cimicifuga are looking past it. And as for the neighbouring Peony foliage - it is completely browned off! While the foliage of the Hosta in the foreground is all holes where bugs and insects have been busy all summer chewing away until there is practically no leaf left.
The chairs in the courtyard are stacked up, as the days are getting chilly and there is no invitation to have lunch outside in the sun any more. The Wisteria leaves from above are turning yellow and dropping. If we were to sit on one of those chairs, as likely as not, at least one yellow leaf would float gently down from above to rest on your shoulder, another on your lap, or your head and yet another on your knee.
 Ornamental grape and the Chinese Trumpet Vine (Bignonia) climbing over the pergola where I park my car. Summer is fast disappearing and Autumn is creeping in, and probably the most picturesque part of my garden at the moment, is under this pergola where I park my car! The flowers of the trumpet vine drop all over the car making a dreadful mess of my car. And yet I love to drive off with the flowers of the trumpet vine fluttering in all directions as I drive down the street.
Instead of roses I fell in love with Crocosmia and Canna in my garden this summer
Probably because their flowers are so yellow and orange, and orange is the most summery colour when the sun don't shine! And it hasn't this summer, and still isn't! We already seem to be heading for an early autumn, so where was summer? However if you have sunny orange and yellow in the garden you can pretend the sun is shining. I seem to be building up a collection of Crocosmia - and a new interest in them, thanks to garden friend, Alan Trott, who has kindly sent me some different varieties. Amongst these are 'Solfatare' and 'Severn Sunrise' which has larger than usual open bright orange flowers. The named varieties do seem to be variable, as when I google them, they vary from site to site, so please do not take my identification of named varieties as gospel. It's all a bit hit n'miss! All I know is that Crocosmias have been a newly discovered joy in the summer garden which I had not been aware of before!  But not so Cannas! Everybody knows about them and the way they scream 'summer' in the garden when they flower! And who can resist the these exotic looking blooms! Sadly, I can't tell you the name of this variety above, as it was given to me as an unnamed variety from a North Island garden friend - all I know is that it's a stunner - especially the colour. I forget about it from season to season - but in high summer there it is again wowing me!
Wisteria looks bare and naked in June after cutting back, but can look even more woeful if it's not cut back and you are left with an unruly messy tangle of brown stems!
I'm not a fan of a lot of trimming and pruning in the garden, as I like my garden to look natural - even a bit overgrown rather than neatly trimmed. But with Wisteria, pruning is the only way, if you want to avoid being taken over and buried by it. Growing where it does right outside my kitchen and living room doors opening into the courtyard, I could easily get tangled up in it when I go outside, so even though it goes against the grain, I do have to clip it back in winter, to avoid being strangled. But by late October look what's happened to it!  These gorgeous long white panicles of flower surround me as I step outside. They are scented and brush softly against my face and I am engulfed in perfume. From those bare truncated branches and tight buds in June, they have unfurled into dripping whiteness by October and the garden is drenched in the most haunting perfume which also drifts throughout the house.
If you are under the Wisteria when spring breezes blow, the petals really do fall all over you and cover the ground like soft snow. This white Wisteria does indeed resemble it's name - 'Snowshowers'  But the end of November the Wisteria loses it's petals and bloom and it just gets downright raggy, leaving a very messy courtyard beneath. Another 2 weeks and the flowers have all but gone and leaf is taking over.  Today in mid December my courtyard begins to look like the green leafy haven it becomes over summer, shading the house and doing the job it's meant to do - protecting me and the house from intense summer sun. I've never really thought of my garden as a spring garden! I don't have Cherry Blossom or Rhododendrons, or Azaleas or even Daffodils, let alone a Crocus. Or many other flowers we associate with spring. This is probably because mine is more of a summer perennial garden, and because I became more fascinated by perennials after seeing gardens in the Northern Hemisphere specialising in the New Perennial or Prairie Movement - during those heady travelling days, which are now so out of reach for us from New Zealand.
Perennial nut or not, no gardener, can resist spring, and neither can I! My spring begins early with Snowdrops! Galanthus nivalis to be precise, which most of us know as the demur english Snowdrop brightening our lives just when we need it most - in the dreary depths of July when those modest pure white buds push their way so bravely through the frozen winter earth. Soon after the Snowdrops finish, Michelia which is anything but demure starts up, bursting into bIowsy bloom in August, and continuing on until now, in early October. Because this blowsy bloomer is evergreen and starts flowering regardless of frosts, it has a subtropical feel to me, which is not surprising, originating as it does in the mellower north. I was lucky enough to be given a Magnolia 'Fairy Cream' by Abbie Jury, when she came down to visit me in Christchurch, just after the earthquakes. Raised by her husband Mark, soon after the nomenclature changed from Michelia to Magnolia, it is a beautiful small tree. And is invaluable in my garden because it's evergreen and adds a touch of the winterless north to a wintry stark Christchurch garden. I was careful to plant it in a sheltered spot where it's surrounded by the lushness of other plants -ferns and climbers. So it does not have to struggle on it's own exposed in an open bare place, devoid of the company of other plants. After all aren't plants are just like people needing the company and friendship of other plants to comfort and shelter them so that they can thrive? And thrive it does, flourishing admirably in my garden throughout a spiky frosty winter - it's leaves looking healthy and pert, unlike many evergreens struggling through a southern winter. While Magnolia 'Fairy Cream' is in full bloom in the side garden, orange tulips appear in the front garden, and they couldn't be more of a colour contrast to the gentler creams, whites and blush pinks of the side garden. But orange tulips and the front garden are a whole other story.  Twin topiared bushes of the fine leafed miniatrure flowered Camellia 'Cornish Snow' in the side garden. The very earliest spring flowering shrub in the garden would have to be the two bushes of 'Cornish Snow' (see above) - that most delicate of blush pink miniature Camellias, with hundreds of little single flowers dotted down it's branches. Though my bushes haven't got much in the way of branches, because they've been topiarised into lollipops which means their long whippy branches have been trimmed back. 'Cornish Snow' is a variety which lends itself beautifully to clipping and shaping. Some might say topiaried trees and shrubs are not nearly so fashionable as they were 20 years ago when I started to shape mine, but I think they do still have their place even in the most naturalistic of gardens.
In my back garden there are other less exotic treats like Bluebells, Forget Me Nots, and the prolifically seeding herb, Borage, along with pale blue Irises about to flower. But no one could call the cerise flowered Broad Bean 'Hughey' prosaic. It's lovely splash of cerise is very welcome amongst my everyday plants which just seed about all over the place.
And all fluffed about by pale grey Santolina. Exotic or everyday, I love them all!! Can you can see that I've been 'up the ladder' pruning my Wisteria 'Snowshowers'? 'Should you be up there at your age? careful people say 'You mean I'm too young?' I reply. 'You'll fall off that ladder!' says another voice of doom. To the doom merchants I say, 'What is life without a bit of risk and excitement occasionally!' But the truth is if you want drama in a small garden, the only way to go is up! Climbers over pergolas add plant life to your garden when there is not much space at ground level. However, I do sometimes wistfully think - If only I had been born tall - 6 feet instead of 4ft 11 - my life up the ladder would be so much more comfortable. In fact I wouldn't need to spend nearly so much of my life up a ladder!
You can tell I've been pruning the Wisteria, because only the knobbly bits remain, and the muddle of long twining runners have been clipped away. Hanging on for dear life, I reach up from the top rung of the ladder on tippy toes to reach those long trails which find their way under the eaves, into the spouting or anywhere and everywhere. By the time I have finished, all that is left are short truncated knobbles! But it doesn't end there. Every day from the end of August I watch those little knobbles begin to grow and develop. The buds swell and begin to change colour from little brownish grey things to long green trusses until one day 6 weeks or so later, out pop a few small white pea-like flowers from the top of each truss. And still they keep growing longer and fuller until ............. THE TRANSFORMATION
 By mid-November I am completely swamped by luscious long sweet smelling panicles of white flowers, which last well into December. I am surrounded by scent and bloom as I step out of my kitchen or living room into the courtyard. The soft panicles of flower brush against my face gently and the beauty and perfume is so transforming that I know that it was all so worthwhile hanging off the ladder in chilly August. From the time the first green buds appear until the last panicle of flower has completely dropped to be replaced by foliage, would be at least 2 months. Meanwhile back in August ..... Before I tackled the Wisteria, I pruned the roses too, adding to that pared back but colourless look of late winter. Neat and tidy - yes - but uninspiring! Never fear -spring is just around the corner, as we wait with baited breath for it to burst out!
Today the sun is shining and spring is here, but there are still some late winter treats to enjoy - like Hellebores, early blossom and the special carmine coloured Witchhazel - Hamamelis 'Dianne'
Lucky as we are, to have Hagley Park for winter walks we are even luckier to have the Port Hills. And our english forefathers didn't even have to 'arrange' these for us as in Hagley Park, because they were already there! The result of volcanic activity millions of years ago, which violently flung up molten rock from the sea-bed, forming the Port Hills and Banks Peninsula as we know it today.  The hills which we find so convenient for our Saturday morning stroll were formed from the lava flows of the of the thankfully, extinct volcano which forms Lyttelton Harbour. And the Port Hills are a circular arc at the north west edge of the crater where Banks Peninsula meets the Canterbury Plains. When volcanic activity finally cooled, it left a rather odd hilly circular landform jutting out from the plains into the Pacific ocean, and was formed from 2 separate volcanic episodes which left two huge craters allowing the sea to rush in - Akaroa and Lyttelton Harbours! The hills which were formed from the lava flows of the of the thankfully, extinct volcano creating Lyttelton Harbour, became known as the Port Hills. Forming a circular arc at the inland edge of the crater where Banks Peninsula meets the Canterbury Plains, these are the hills which we find so convenient for our Saturday morning stroll.
It's not that much of a stroll any more actually! The Saturday morning 'stroll' up the hill was much easier a few years ago. But we are all growing older, so I would call it a climb rather than a stroll as most of us puff and pant our way up through these paths to reach the top. These days we have to cope with the odd ailment or 2 which might slow us down - a hip, a knee, lungs, heart - whatever. But of course we don't let these things stop us. 'It's good for us' we tell each other 'keeps us young and agile'. So on we go! Whether it's rocky paths or wintry muddy tracks, it's all up. We plough upwards as younger more agile walkers streak past us, calling out a cheery hello as they power on up, beyond us and out of sight. But we don't mind - we just keep on keeping on at our own pace!
The vegetation always intrigues me. We walk through introduced coniferous forest where you could imagine you are somewhere in North America and then suddenly you are into New Zealand secondary growth native bush where you feel quite at home. There may still be pockets of original native bush in the nooks and crannys of valleys in these hills, but the areas we go through are second growth natives as more of these hills are regenerating and in some areas being replanted with natives. Most of this deliberate planting has been done by volunteers, eager to recapture the original hills, as they may have been before we Europeans cleared such a lot of the natural vegetation in order to develop farmland. While most of us enjoy the authenticity of native planting, exotics are also valuable in helping to stop erosion, and keeping the Port Hills intact.
 And on a sunny winters day this is our reward!  And on a cloudy day there is often still a reward! Winter is the best time of all to get out and walk - an escape from the four walls and that dozy interior phug, away from the fireside and heaters . Go out amongst the mist, the frost, and those dripping bare trees. Feel the sharp cold on your cheeks, the wind at your back and slosh through puddles, even a bit of a shiver, awakens you from that winter apathy. Experience the elements and nature and you will feel alive again!  The beauty of a damp misty morning in the Botanic Gardens in July In Christchurch we don't know how lucky we are to have Hagley Park and Botanic Gardens so close to the centre of the city. Our Victorian early settlers during the 19th century, brought with them english garden values to their new far flung home at the bottom of the world. They had become aware of the importance of gardens, parkland, and open common land for the people, to the cities, and suburbs of England, to offset unhealthy, dreary industrial areas. Clapham Common, Streathem Common and Hampstead Heath in London, to name just a few. Every time I walk in Hagley Park I think of those english parks and commons, and thank those hardy 19thC. english settlers for their far seeing vision in allocating the central open spaces of Hagley Park so reminiscent of their homeland, to our city for our people.
 To see the mists rising from the river and the shafts of sunlight piercing the treetops on a winters morning, is something I wouldn't want to miss - not to mention those early pale winter daffodils that dare to brave the winter frosts  And what drama it is, to experience the mists rising from the river, the shafts of early morning light through the trees and the crunchy white frosts on the grass.  Around we go, past the Heritage Rose Garden, the roses so bare and twiggy in winter and perennials tall and frosted brown. Their colour might have gone but their height and structure still adds interest to a winter palate. Noticing and feeling the frost on the ground, before we go on through the daffodil woodland, so still and silent in the depths of winter with not a bright yellow daffodil to be seen. NEXT TIME - UP THE HILL AND AWAY FROM THE DAMP MISTY CITY - UP TO THE CLEAR BLUE SKIES AND UPLIFTING VIEWS TO BE SEEN FROM 'UP THERE' It all depends on how you define mess!!  We tend to think of Hosta's as beautiful only in late spring and summer when the colourful variegated foliage is splayed out in all it's lush green summer glory, beneath trees and shrubs. But not in autumn when it's leaves have become all droopy, floppy and dirty yellow or crinkled up and brown. But look again! At the the graceful way the stems naturally fall, and the intricate way the spent seedheads are arranged! Even the worst (or should we say the best) of those very old grey crinkled leaves are really the most interesting shapes are they not? Just because they are old and grey and wrinkled doesn't mean to say they are not beautiful! Just like us!
I have learned through the New Perennialist movement how important it is to open our eyes and see the beauty in each stage of a plants life from birth, to death. I get so much more pleasure from appreciating the season of seedheads and dying foliage instead of discounting it as messy or untidy - something that should be trimmed away out of sight as soon as possible. I think Piet Oudolf has trained me well, because this year I am really and truly loving the more muted colours and shapes of seedheads and dying foliage in the garden - even when Dahlia foliage droops rather ungracefully.
Isn't it wonderful the way our trees and plants won't be contained within neat borders but spread themselves beautifully over every surface in autumn. How important it is to enjoy and revel in autumn when for a relatively short time, colourful leaves clothe and light up our boring paths and hard surfaces with such panache. They are not to be tidied away yet! But perhaps only in the dead of winter when they go brown and drab, sloshy and slippery. Maybe that would be the time to sweep them away to make way for the new season - the freshness and glory of spring.
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