Bog Garden Planted

Below are some typical bog plants for this part of the world.

Dianella longifolia, the Pale Flax-Lily, which has beautiful blue berries:

Isolepsis nodosa, the Knobby Club-Rush, for the margins:

Mazus pumilio, Swamp Mazus, is a ground-cover with pretty blue flowers a bit like snapdragons:
And then there's the Bracelet Honey-Myrtle, Melalauca armillaris. It's not from my area, really, but the endemic Melalaucas are unsuitable for this position. I need something small, which will take on a tree-shape rather than a shrub-shape, and not scratch people. I'm hoping the position is not too wet as M. armillaris tends to be found in heathlands in high rainfall areas, not bogs. I've built it up a bit but am hoping it will tend to soak up water like other Melaleucas do.
I put a Dianella at each corner and the Melaleuca is on the hillock in the foreground.

The rushes are planted notionally around the edges of my pond, but it had been raining so they are actually in the water at the moment.

I have recycled some concrete edging in the hope that the lower Dianellas won't be washed away.
Another view, with long shadows cast across the pond.

I love the shadows cast on the wall by my Shasta daisies too.

Preparing for a Bog Garden

We had only 45 minutes of sunshine in Sydney last week.  The local rain gauge says we've had 137mm since the start of the month, more than one-and-a-half times the average.  That's La Nina for you!

There's a new garden bed between my newly-concreted driveway and path.  Well, there would be if I had added any soil to it -- it's just clay and a few weeds.  And 137mm of rainwater.

Our builders came back this week to deal with a few issues and The Geek was solemnly warned that this reservoir so close to the house was a Bad Thing, because the house is downslope. Initial excavations today have revealed some thin concrete inside the bed, which may have reduced the speed at which this water drains into the subsoil.  I am not hopeful that we can keep the area dry in the long term.

 This water is runoff from the driveway.  We are going to have a recurring problem here.  The subsoil is clay and if the soil is saturated, the excess water has nowhere to go.  If I were to mound up a garden bed on top of it, either the soil would wash away or the plants would drown.  I am going to have to allow for temporary flooding but want the excess water to be taken up by plants.  Now how does a frog habitat sound? 

What do frogs need?

• Most common frogs don't require standing water; temporary ponds are enough
• If there is a pond, it should have gently sloping sides as not all frogs can climb
• Frogs need plenty of cover: shrubs, logs, tussock plants and so on
• They frequent moist, shaded areas and can roam some distance from water sources

 What do tadpoles need?

• Tadpoles do need some water
• Tadpoles need water that isn't entirely shaded -- they eat algae, which grows in sunlit water
• Tadpoles need oxygenated water.  Duckweed and Azolla tend to decrease oxygen levels and will need to be removed.
• Tadpoles also eat the fungi and bacteria from decomposing plants
• Tadpoles are sensitive to manure

What do people need?

• Not to have frogs singing under their bedroom windows.  This location is away from our bedrooms and not too close to the neighbours' bedrooms either.

My plan is to create a dished depression in the middle of the triangle, add some leaf-litter and shelter, then plant the whole area with bog plants.    I imagine clumps of sedges at each corner as markers for people using the paths.  Nobody wants to fall into a bog, garden or not!

 The Australian Association of Bush Regenerators has put together a list of Frog-friendly Sydney plants here. I am particularly interested in these ones, as they are known to grow in my area:

• Hydrocotyle peduncularis (Native Pennywort)
• Persicaria decipiens (Knotweed)
• Knobby Club-Rush (Isolepis nodosa)
• Common Rush (Juncus usitatus)
• Mat Rush (Lomandra longifolia)

Stay tuned!
If you are interested in encouraging frogs into your garden, I can recommend the following websites:

• FATS, the Frog And Tadpole Study Group of NSW
• The Frogs Australia Network has plenty of information for Australians about frogs. 
• The Backyard Buddies programme helps children identify andd conserve local wildlife of all sizes.

How It All Began

It's time to look back.

How can one recall all the factors that have led to the conception of a design, then brought forth a renewed building?

I suppose it all began when we bought our postwar cottage. It was well-built and comfortable and, I remember saying, it would be easy to extend from the kitchen/dining area, into the lovely north-facing back yard. Not that we wanted to, of course, but it would be possible.


But we bought in October, so one of the disadvantages of our house did not become apparent to us for a good six months. While the back yard was full of bright northerly light -- in fact, a bit too much light for comfort in summer -- the house did not make any use of it. Here, count the windows on the back yard side.


One for the dining room, one for a bedroom, and the other two rooms getting that premium light are... the bathroom and toilet! And that's the laundry in the middle, shielding the rest of the house from light and heat. It's a lovely house in summer, keeping its back to the sun. There are big windows on the street side to catch the cooling southerlies. Most of the time, it's a cool, well-ventilated house.

Winter is considerably less pleasant. Cool becomes cold, and ventilation becomes draught. The occasional overnight minimum of -3 C won't sound like much to Europeans, until you realise how Australian houses leak air. Every room has wall vents open to the outside -- and you can't close them. Our windows and doors aren't made to be airtight, and our thickest winter clothes are thin by European standards.

Then I found this amongst the building books at work.


This excellent book is still in print, and is a helpful guide to energy efficient thermal comfort for Australians (particularly in our major cities). I don't know how many times I borrowed Warm House Cool House, fascinated by the possibilities which would make suburban housing so much more liveable. One of my first decisions was that if I ever extended the house, I would need a concrete slab on the northern side of my house for thermal mass in winter, and big windows to let in winter sun. But this fit in with the location of the maybe-extension anyway.

In summer, of course, I'd need to have my slab and window shaded with an external pergola smothered in passionfruit vine. But that's what Sydneysiders do with passionfruit plants: if it isn't a pergola, it's a verandah, and it will have a passionfruit vine. (The choko vine goes over the shed and dunny.)

Then the news of the Greenhouse Effect reached the general public. I'd heard of it, of course; John Seymour mentioned it in his 1987 book, Blueprint for a Green Planet, which I had bought. (I suppose John Seymour had better take some credit for this extension too!) The populous parts of Australia were in drought. I never ran out of cloth nappies for the Twig, because the washing was never rained on.

At the same time I was pondering my own wealth. Unlike many Australians, I'm aware that I'm wealthy on a global scale and on the national scale. It seemed to me that to consume water and energy excessively was unbecoming for a follower of a famously homeless man.

Of course, a major extension is also expensive. You can do a cheap extension, but it's usually ugly, made of cheaper materials, uninsulated and generally tends to result in more consumption later, whether because of increased running costs (eg heating uninsulated rooms) or maintenance and replacement of the materials. We didn't want that. We wanted to do something that would be beautiful and long-lasting. There are plenty of cheap extensions in our area as it is not a wealthy part of Sydney.


Like many gardeners, I've been aware for quite some time that water ought to be conserved (and that there are better things to do with stormwater than push it all out to sea), that artificial fertilisers and so on are not healthy foods for soils, and that pesticides and herbicides often create more problems than they solve as they damage biodiversity. I have a basic understanding of soil chemistry. I love fresh air, sunshine and flowers and didn't want to be breathing in too many outgassed chemicals from glues and paints.

Michael Mobbs made me aware of the ubiquity of PVC in the building trade and the possibility of replacing it with other materials. I even considered leaving the town water supply as he did, but decided that the costs and disadvantages were prohibitive.


The ultimate frustration with our house was down to the simple fact that a house that was comfortable for a working-class family in 1946 was not always a good fit for a middle-class family in 2011. The kitchen was built for the rationing period, and for a family who might have risen to an ice chest, not a modern fridge. The back yard was not a place you took your few guests; it was where you grew your vegetables and hung your washing--the home barbecue had not yet arrived in Australian culture. There was nowhere for us to sit outside, really, until a volunteer mulberry grew to shade the home-built carport. The dining table didn't quite fit into the dining room and we didn't quite fit into the lounge room, either.

Eventually, we went to Archicentre and used their flat-fee service to develop a concept plan. We liked it so much that we retained the architect, Peter Katris, for the project. And last night, we slept in our renewed house for the first time.

Here's the short version of the list of reasons for extending as we did:

• Easy to extend this particular house
• Allow for modern use of space: outdoor entertaining, computers, etc
• Provide bigger kitchen and lounge room
• Provide better articulation to back yard, and an outdoor sitting area
• Improve thermal efficiency of house: better access to sun and light, and better ventilation control
• Replace inefficient/non-functioning appliances
• Improve stormwater management and conservation
• To beautify the house and maintain the heritage of our street
• To minimise the use of certain plastics where practicable

I'll post more information about some of our decisions later.

Details from my Kitchen

The most effective kind of education is that a child should play amongst lovely things. (Plato)

I feel like that child today, as I see daylight in my completed kitchen.

The upper cabinets.


Lower cabinetry.


Enjoying the contrast between the E0 birch ply and the red hardwood.


I didn't know my builders were installing this metal edge. I've seen the tiles just stop in some kitchens, but mine have a punctuation mark.


Steel handles from Hafele -- comfortable, strong and recyclable.


Red timber, steel edging, speckled grey tiles, 'Nougat' Caesarstone: I am so pleased by the colour combinations.


The character marks in recycled timber -- nail holes:


A borer track through the recycled timber:


Light glows through the quartz on the bench edge.


The timber shelf between the kitchen and family room. I keep stroking it.


End grain on the timber shelf between kitchen and family room.

Soon I Will Have a Kitchen!

It's at least six weeks away, and it will be a while before we move back in, but still... Soon I will have a kitchen!

image courtesy Greener Kitchens

I love the fancy refrigerator that the computer program has given me! Mine is white and considerably more modest. (The splashback won't be those trendy tiles either.) Now, remember my old kitchen?


Just in case you've forgotten. See the spot where the builder's fridge and the four drawers are stacked up? That was my food preparation area, next to the stove. The equivalent area at the other end of the kitchen held the microwave, canisters and fruit platter.

It only occurred to me recently that when the kitchen (the room) was built, Aussies still had rationing, so the lack of room wouldn't have been so painful. I also believe that the original kitchen was considerably better planned than this, its replacement. It would only have had 45cm deep base cabinets, so there would have been a slightly longer (if shallower) run of bench.

The cabinet doors will be made of recycled timbers in reddish shades, with "character" -- that is, old nail holes and the like. And to think people artificially distress their furniture... The carcasses are going to be marine ply rather than the usual MDF-and-melamine. The standard new Australian kitchen these days costs $10,000 (without appliances) and is guaranteed for only 10 years. When the kitchen is removed, all the cabinetry goes to landfill. Now imagine my city, with its three million households, and the amount of landfill generated by three hundred thousand kitchens every year. What a waste! I am hoping my kitchen will last a fair bit longer. On top, we'll have Caesarstone 'Nougat'. Together, our counters and cabinets will look a bit like this picture.

Remember that I liked green tiles? We considered a green glass splashback, but it is an expensive proposition. Tiling is about a third of the price. I went back to the tile shop where we bought our bathroom tiles, and the lady there asked what other surfaces I was planning to use. As soon as I said "Caesarstone in 'Nougat'," she went straight to a white tile with a fine grey fleck, which will go with it beautifully. I had a look at plain white tiles, but they were too stark after that first 'perfect match'. But there is a green feature tile up my sleeve if we have room to use it.

The flooring will be Marmoleum. That's the trade name for linoleum, that lovely old-fashioned material made largely of natural materials like jute and cork and linseed oil. It's not as cold, hard or environmentally unfriendly as vinyl, nor does it outgas. It's antibacterial, biodegradeable, and lasts at least 30 years.

God willing, this kitchen and I will gently decay together!

Summary:
Timber cabinetry: recycled mixed reds
Benchtop: Caesarstone 'Nougat'
Splashback: 600x300mm 'Inca' (white with fine grey fleck) ceramic tiles
Painted walls: Dulux 'Clotted Cream'
Floor: Marmoleum (shade to be determined)
Appliances: TBA. We will lean heavily on Choice.


I've joined the Modern Country Style link party to show what I'd love in my kitchen in the future. And it's nearly here! The kitchen man was measuring up last Monday!

Drainage with Nerd Cred

This last week has been all about drainage. I didn't catch any photos of the little trenching machine, but it was about the size of a ride-on mower. Here is some of the work it did:




Drainage pipes aren't terribly exciting, of course, though important. Most of them look like these -- PVC pipes, which are here connecting to the sewerage line from our future toilet.


I asked for polyethylene pipe to be used instead of PVC where possible. PVC, though it is ubiquitous, creates dioxin during the manufacturing process and requires the use of poisonous "blue glue" at the joins. It is also hard to recycle, as it is a thermosetting plastic, and releases chlorine when burnt. However, I was surprised to learn that as they are brittle, PVC pipes are usually only guaranteed for 10 years. We have mobile clay soil, so even at a practical level PVC isn't suitable for stormwater here. Polyethylene is considerably more flexible (Vinidex assert that PE pipes were the only ones to survive the Kobe earthquake! I suppose clay soil will be all right, then) and even better, can be recycled.

What I hadn't realised was how you join PE pipe. See the O-rings in the picture below? And the two protrusions on each one?


These pipes are electrowelded! On Monday, a little electrofusion machine is arriving from Melbourne* to put a current through wires in each ring. The inside surface of the O-ring melts, fusing the join, and a yellow tab pops up to indicate the weld has been successful. After the job is complete, the machine will print a list of the welds performed and whether it thinks each was successful (the rings are barcoded). We feel that the amount of technology used to nuke solve a simple problem gives this method real Nerd Cred. (And while using HDPE pipe doesn't cost much more than PVC, the O-ring electrofusion couplers are expensive.)


Of course we also found a minor problem this week. Our gas line is too close to the surface to meet the current code, and it's got at least one bend in it, like this one. This section of the pipe was attached to the concrete driveway -- another no-no these days -- and broke when the concrete came up. Our builders suspect that there is more gas-pipe snaking around in peculiar places, and they are planning to hand-dig the driveway so they don't hit it.

* Melbourne seems to be way ahead of Sydney in the green building area, which is TOTALLY absurd. Where are the green builders in Sydney?

Cool!

The Geek pointed out this Ars Technica article. I must admit I had never thought about the hideous power demands of data centres, and it's great to see such intelligent responses to the problem, using passive methods. The permies strike again!

Let out your Inner Communist!

This year, a special farewell wave to Senator Nick Minchin, who has just announced his retirement from politics. His best-known comment on climate change action is:

For the extreme left it provides the opportunity to do what they've always wanted to do, to sort of de-industrialise the western world. You know the collapse of communism was a disaster for the left, and they, and really they embraced environmentalism as their new religion. *

Therefore, I must be a Communist. Come and join me on the Dark Side! Literally!

* From the transcript of Four Corners' "Malcolm and the Malcontents", first broadcast 9 November 2009. When the program was first broadcast, Adelaide was experiencing its first ever November heatwave (five days or more where the maximum temperature reached 35 C/95 F). The heatwave ran for eight days.

Awakening of Cheerful Feelings Upon Arrival in the Country

We spent last weekend at a family reunion in the small NSW town of Carcoar. If you are fond of hills dotted with sheep and cattle, and you like National Trust listed places, you will love Carcoar; I certainly did.


When my husband's distant relative moved to Carcoar, it was the second-largest town west of the Blue Mountains, second to Bathurst. Its other claim to fame is that it was the first place in Australia where the daylight robbery of a bank* took place, perpetrated by none other than Bold Ben Hall.

Of course, because we are all nerds, we were very keen to see the Blayney wind farm. There is a viewing platform near Carcoar Dam, but it faces east, so morning photographs are a bit difficult.


The towers are about 50m tall and each sail about half that. I found the fifteen windmills simultaneously imposing and beautiful. There is a much more picturesque view of them from Carcoar Railway Station, and from Carcoar Cemetery.


Remains of a farm building built by my husband's distant relative.


Another scene from the family farm, typical of well-maintained grazing land in this area with remnant eucalypts for shade. This farmer, as with most, has been reafforesting his property. I explained to the Twig that in my youth, one never saw young trees on farmland -- only remnant specimen trees, probably left from when the land was cleared a hundred years back. These days, it's common to see belts of young trees along fence lines, thanks to Landcare. Grazing animals and crops do better when sheltered from hot summer winds and freezing gales, and our delicate soil needs protection from erosion, water loss and salinity. The earthwork on the right is a dam. Despite the green grass, this area is in drought. I'm glad to say some rain fell while we were in the area.


Before I get into trouble, I'd better explain that the Twig is on a path through this wheatfield! After his tour of the family farm, viewing various historical relics, the Twig complained of fatigue on his way up the hill to the homestead. Then he met some boys playing cricket, and we didn't see him for three hours...

Note for Sydney travellers: the waratahs are out along the Darling Causeway. If you are up in the Blue Mountains, go and have a look!

* Daylight robbery by a bank, on the other hand, is so common as to be unremarkable.

Red Sky at Morning...

We had a welcome thunderstorm yesterday which dumped about 15mm on us, and I went to sleep with wet earth scenting my gardening dreams. At 4am the stench of dust woke me, and there was a weird foggy look to the still-dark sky. At 6am it looked like this:


The westerly wind was cold -- usually it's a hot wind that we associate with bushfires. It was typically strong, though -- we were getting 60 km/h gusts while I took the photos, and 80 km/h later in the morning.

This dust is from northern South Australia, most likely the Lake Eyre Basin. It has travelled 1400km to us and is now on its way to Brisbane and New Zealand. In Sydney, the airborne particulates reached such dangerous levels that school children were kept inside all day. The Twig missed out on his school swimming lesson and on both outdoor breaks today*, but was kept happy indoors with domino runs, his latest craze. People with lung diseases were advised to stay indoors unless they needed medical assistance as a result of the dust-storm!

This dust-storm is unique. The last bad dust-storm in Sydney was in 1944, but it was not on the scale of today's. Moreover, our cultivation techniques have improved since then with the move to zero-tillage agriculture, and dust-storms in general have been declining. Today's dust-storm was caused by the present unusually long, unusually hot drought... which will become less unusual in the future, we fear.



* Children in Sydney schools usually have two breaks for eating and playing outdoors. At our school, one is of 35 and one is of 40 minutes.

Recognising Autumn

How do we recognise a change in season? I note that North American garden bloggers count Spring as arriving at the Equinox. Autumn officially starts here on the 1st of March, and if you go by your senses, it arrived quite close to that date.

We have had some rain, in fact it is raining now. The dew is heavy on the grass, the air cool in the mornings. The sky is no longer deep blue, but electric blue, and there are interesting clouds, a change from the fair-weather cumulus or harsh clear skies of summer. Today, we have cirrus. The light is softer and shadows bluish.

The grass is cool and bends under my feet, no longer sere. The pumpkins are waxing, their vines waning, and it is the time to sow all sorts of things. We planted our sweet peas before St Patrick's Day, as is traditional here. I could be planting, but it's the wrong time to do it in the lunar calendar, so I will hold off a week. In the Blue Mountains, the peach season is definitely over and the apples are ripe (we picked up some delicious jam and a few bags of apples on a trip last weekend). My Scribbly Gum has been flowering.

How do your senses tell you that the season has turned in your locality?

I ask because I have been reading a beautiful book, D'harawal Seasons and Climatic Cycles*. The writer is Frances Bodkin, a knowledge-holder of the D'harawal people, whose traditional lands probably include Chookie's Back Yard. Originally written for children, the book intersperses Law Stories, such as "How the Parrots Got Their Colours" with information on the daily, yearly, and longer weather cycles. I have seen, heard and felt some of these cycles myself.

The D'harawal count six seasons:

Ngoonungi, Time of the Flying Fox: Spring, which is a short season in Sydney, about September-October. The waratah and many other flowers bloom and flying foxes gather. Mating season of many smaller marsupials. Shellfish form a large part of the diet. As the whales migrate down the coast with their calves, important ceremonies are held to wish them well.

Parra'dowee, Time of the Eel: Begins with the flowering of Acacia binervia and covers roughly October to December. The freshwater eels begin their journey to the ocean to mate and die. It is also mating season for egrets, turtles and lace monitors. Fish and prawns are a large part of the diet.

Burran, Time of the Kangaroo: The hot season, January-February, begins with the blooming of Acacia implexa. The staple diet is fruit, seeds and tubers. Meat and fish are forbidden, partly because such food spoils so quickly and partly because it is mating season for kangaroos and wallabies.

Marrai'gang, Time of the Quoll: Mating season for quolls, roughly March, April and May. A wetter time of year. Quolls are quiet and secretive, except during the mating season, when they call to each other. Lilly pillies, good eating, drop from the trees. Young male animals may now be eaten, and fire prevention work is undertaken. Golden orb spiders spin their beautiful strong webs.

Burrugin, Time of the Echidna: The Eucalyptus tereticornis flowers, and the weather is cold -- this season covers June and July. Shellfish is forbidden (in fact, Sydney Rock Oysters are known to be poor eating at this time of year, as it follows spawning). As the Gymea Lily flower-stem begins to redden, women sing the whales north to their calving grounds. Nesting season begins for many birds, including the magpie, which can be aggressive in protecting its nest.

Wiritjiribin, Time of the Lyrebird: The days are growing longer, but the weather is still cold, and the winds of August begin as the Acacia floribunda flowers. The lyrebird builds his dancing mound and sings his mating song. It is also mating season for antechinus, pelicans, booboook owls and willie wagtails. As this season ends, the winds end with it and the scented Acacia decurrens blooms.

The D'harawal perceive a Mudong Cycle, roughly twelve years long. It has eight phases, which are of variable lengths: hot and dry, then cooler and wetter, cold and wet, warm and wet, hot and wet, cooler and drier, cold and dry, warmer and drier. Could this be related to the El Nino-Southern Oscillation and similar effects?

There is a Moon Cycle, about twenty years long. At its start, the moon rises at its southernmost point and food is plentiful, so the great Law Gatherings are held. There is also a Fire Cycle about 60 years long, with the peak being a time of terrible bushfires. I wonder if we are passing through that peak now?

The longest known cycle is called Garuwanga (Dreaming), and has four seasons, the Time of Fire, when sea levels rise until South Head is an island; the Cooling Time of Renewal, when sea levels fall; the Time of Cold, when the seashore is three days' walk east of South Head and the ground is frosty every morning; and then the long Warming Time of Renewal when the seas rise slowly again. The entire cycle lasts about 12-20,000 years.

The knowledge-holders all believe that there is a far larger cycle that acts upon the Garuwanga Cycle, because the variations recorded in the stories (for the D'harawal remember at least four Garuwanga Seasons of Cold and four of Fire) indicate that the severity of Cold times has been decreasing, while the severity of Hot times has been increasing.

Beautifully illustrated and easy to read, everyone in the Sydney Basin should buy a copy to extend their understanding of our environment and of indigenous culture. A poster of the annual seasons is also available.


*Bodkin, F. & Robertson, L., (2008). D'harawal seasons and climatic cycles. F. Bodkin & L. Robertson, Sydney.
ISBN: 978-0-9804810-1-3

Reminder

We'll be keeping Earth Hour for the second time this year. What about you?

Where in the Gardening World is Chookie?

Bloomingwriter asked,

Tell your readers a bit about your hometown, your state, province…something that really tells us where you are in the world. What’s really special about your community? Pretend you’re trying to entice visitors to the region, and remember—what might be obvious to you isn’t necessarily obvious to even the blogger in the community next door.

I've already dealt with this question a bit here, in terms of geography and climate.

My part of Sydney is not the part that international tourists tend to visit a lot, though I suppose some of them come out to Sydney Olympic Park for sporting events. My municipality is mainly residential, with some light and a little heavy industry. It is one of the most ethnically diverse parts of Sydney--only a quarter of the 60,000 residents are native English speakers.

The municipality is bounded by Parramatta River on the north, and the main Sydney Water Supply Line on the south. At the eastern end is Rookwood Cemetery, and to the west is Duck River and its parklands. I live up the Rookwood end.

Few probably visit Rookwood Cemetery, but perhaps more should. It is beautiful -- one of the largest cemeteries in the world, full of history and of rare plants. Rookwood and Sydney Olympic Park not only provide local residents with open space: they keep the air clean, no mean feat considering the number of people who pass through the area to work each day. I used to work in the grittiest part of Sydney and it was a pleasure to breathe clean(er) air when I alighted from the train at home. I love Rookwood now, in late summer. The grasses grow tall around the leaning sandstone headstones, creating romantic pictures under the gum trees.

Rookwood is home to the rare Acacia pubescens, the Downy Wattle. It is a small pretty shrub a couple of metres in height, with blue-green ferny leaves and scented wattle-balls in spring. An ideal garden plant, one would think, but apparently it is extraordinarily difficult to propagate. Root cuttings are the most reliable, and you can't take too many of those for fear of damage to the parent plant. One of my ambitions is to grow it.

Sydney Olympic Park is home to some of our rarest plant communities and an astonishing variety of animals. Further details (including some pics) here. They hold a series of free outdoor concerts each February. We're planning to go to the Sydney Symphony one shortly.

Come over for a cuppa some time...

Autumn Already?

I notice that some Northern Hemisphere posters are mentioning unusually mild temperatures for late winter: Bliss and Ewa in the Garden, for example. We too are having mild temperatures. Generally, February is an inferno. We experience temperatures over 35 C for about five days, with a day or two reaching 40 C or more. Some years we get two heatwaves, not one. Then the weather breaks, we receive some welcome rain, and when it clears, we find ourselves in autumn.

Well, our rain seems to have come early. After a deluge in December and a pretty typical humid January, it rained for the first ten days of February instead of getting hotter. I suppose the amount of water in the soil has caused the caused the cool temperatures these last few fine days. Yesterday, it was only 14 C at 7am, and it smelt like autumn. (What does autumn smell like elsewhere? Here it is cool dewy mornings, the smell of damp earth, and green things growing.)

The highest temperature forecast this week is 27 C. I have seen a pink tibouchina coming into flower. If I'm lucky, we'll have a long, long autumn. It's my favourite season -- planting time.

A giant golden orb weaver is spinning her web at our front porch. She's probably 5 cm across when she's sitting comfortably and waiting for her dinner. She's not very elegant, with her plumpness and her rather stumpy legs, and she is too hairy for human ideals of feminine beauty, but she is a great benefactor. We've barely been troubled by mosquitoes inside the house this year, though I hear they are in great numbers due to the rain. If our spider is at work, it must be bed-time. Goodnight!

My love is otherwise

The soft colours of this template remind me of Australian native plants, which I love. It's partly patriotism: our flora is completely different to that of other places. Joseph Banks was so excited by it that he persuaded Captain Cook to rename 'Stingray Bay' to 'Botany Bay' -- and that's where I grew up, not that there was much left of the native flora by then.

Our plants are very good at giving us a sense of place. Sydneysiders are home when they see the salmon-coloured trunks of Angophora costata, for example, and an Australian can be moved to tears by finding a gum-tree in a foreign land. To plant native plants is an expression of love for a beautiful country.

People can be a bit foolish about native plants, though. A Banksia coccinea is an Australian plant, but it comes from the sandy soils and dry climate of Western Australia. It will not cope with the humidity and clay in my Sydney garden, and why should it? It is 4000km from home! By natives, I mean the local flora, which has evolved to suit the local conditions. If you can find out what your natives are, you instantly have a group of plants that you know will cope in your garden with very little attention. In fact, the lack of cosseting required can sometimes be surprising. I planted out a large native garden bed two weeks before water restrictions commenced in spring 2003. Once restrictions commenced, I ceased all artificial watering to that bed because I had to focus my efforts on the vegie patch. In the next six months, I didn't lose a single native plant. It is painful to remember the deaths and poor yields in the vegie patch during the same period.

Most Australian native plants have evolved to deal with difficult conditions -- drought, flood and fire. The rambunctious games of The Twig and The Sprig do not disturb my native plants at all, nor do my chooks. My vegetable patch, on the other hand, is fenced off!

Don't forget that native plants also provide habitat and food sources for native fauna. If you are lucky you could tempt rare birds, insects or even frogs into your garden this way. But how do you find your native plants?

Councils and public libraries sometimes have lists of local flora (some councils even propagate their own plants, which they then pass on to local residents for a nominal fee). Heritage sites and major parks in your area might also have such lists, as will local environmental groups like Greening Australia, Landcare and so on. Your local branch of ASGAP will also be a valuable resource. Tracking down the information is all part of the fun!

Blog Action Day, 15 October

Is there somewhere you could plant a tree? Your nature strip, your front yard, your back yard? It's a proven way to sequester carbon; a much better option than digging big holes in the ground and pumping CO2 in. Yes, John Howard, I'm looking at you!

Do you have somewhere to plant some vegetables? It might be a single pot of parsley on your window-sill. It might be a few troughs on a verandah. Or perhaps you have some unused garden bed that is crying out for strawberries or bush beans. Or you could turn your whole back yard into a permaculture food forest, if you like.

Could you do with an indoor plant to purify your air? Even one plant will sequester an astonishing quantity of the nasty chemicals that outgas from our new lounge suites and carpets.

Perhaps you feel you can only manage a small thing. That is fine. Just do that one small thing. Do it today. Do it, and change the world one small step at a time.