FIT FOR A BRIDE!

A week has passed since I walked down to The House that Jack Built to make certain that all was ready for the arrival of the bride and her groom, my cousin’s son, the next day. What I saw took even my breath away, despite 11 years of calling this spot ‘home’. It has never been more beautiful.

Even before he proposed he asked me what the most beautiful time was on the mountain in spring. I said mid-October. When he proposed he had his plans laid out, the venue booked…

This is where they came after the wedding and reception at the neighbouring Cheerio Gardens to spend their wedding night. As a little boy he had seen me build this house, and this was where he wished to bring his bride…

I took these photos either the day before or the day after the wedding. I remember the earnest little boy, fishing rod in hand, talking to me as I worked on the space where the curved wooden window now stands. With him then was his best friend, the photographer at the wedding, who took a set of photographs here more unique, from what I’ve heard, than you will ever find. I hope to share a few in due course…

Across the dam the yellow azaleas under the purple  Japanese maple were more splendid than ever.

So I wondered in to photograph them, and got caught up in the beauty of the Japanese maples as well.

Growing in the shade below the wall of the Carpetgarden, almost completely hidden these days by the purple maple and a dogwood, are two dissected Japanese maples, one green, one purple – or wine red, which better describes their leaves.

Here you can see what the leaves look like on this exquisite low-growing tree, and below the soft mound it forms. Beyond is the purple form.

The yellow azaleas also demanded more attention.

But these yellows, as you could see in my previous posts, do not alone represent the deciduous azaleas – here are a few more photographed in recent days.

This last one is growing right outside the glass doors outside the living room of the big house. Here it is again:

There are more, and when I return from Johannesburg where I am spending time with my father, I will hopefully get to photograph them too…

It is also the season of the Japanese flowering cherries, and I have not photographed them sufficiently.

There is more, azaleas and other Japanese maples, not to mention the first irises and roses… They will have to wait for a further post. My time is limited, and it is time now for bed…

 

10/10–LET THE RAINS BEGIN!

10 October traditionally marks the start of the rainy season. Anything before that is both a bonus and a bad omen. Joining as it did other bad omens, I had mixed feelings about the wonderful early September rain…

But this past week has grown progressively wetter, mist turning to rain and quite decent rain forecast for today to follow on the 10mm we measured over the last three days. Only one problem: tomorrow my cousin gets married and photos are scheduled in the garden… But there is a chance of some sunshine at appropriate times tomorrow.

The sharp-eyed will notice both the trailer and the bakkie (ute, truck) parked on the lower road. We had carted compost from the plantations, a wonderful source of good free nourishment for the newly developed straight edge to the top bed after 25 years under lawn. Most of the new area has been seeded with ‘easy flowers’ – although some packs passed there sell-by date in 2005 *blush* so we shall see what’s forthcoming… Be it as it may: the weather is ideal!

Here are some rather careless wet-lens snapshots of recent developments, with resultant flare. Under the Japanese Maple – rounded and GREEN and lovely in the rain, growing as you look at it – we have planted a hedge of Abelia ‘Francis Mason’ to match the one visible across the lawn at the Ellensgate Garden. The blue flower in the top pic, by the way, is our local Aristea, a wonderful little bulb which has ‘flowering days’ and ‘non-flowering days’. It always reminds me of stories I’ve heard over the years from my lady colleagues about life in the girls’ boarding house at school…

Here you can see the Mothers’ Garden all hedged and ready for the roses which will be planted here; another area which will respond thankfully to the rain!

By special request from my friend Diana of Elephant’s Eye here is a progress report (imperfect) on The Garden Celebrating an Imperfect Universe; first a view across the water spout incorrectly aligning the axis with the view through to the other side. This was one of the many imperfections I had to consider here, and the eventual decision was to plug this (totally accidental) extension of the axis 5 degrees off centre with a shrub or two on the far end. It is yet to happen. Beyond the spout and at a lower level you can see, if you know what to look for, the logs that form the spiral in this garden. Below you CAN see them. As well as the softening that has happened from the rather casual introduction of some flowers here. The big project is the construction of the water spiral, fed by the overflow from the house-water fountain, which will come up through a central ‘celestial trumpet’ before flowing down a homemade spiral shute , around and out from the stepping logs. But in the imperfect world we celebrate in this garden, none of that has been constructed although most material is on site, and we are 18 months from conception. Bit of an elephant, although hopefully neither pink nor white.

 

PROGRESS TO REPORT–AND THEN SPRING PICS

The hedges are planted! After more than a year in which the rectangle of barren earth needed constant explanation, the Mothers’ Garden is laid out, the hedges planted and the central yew trimmed dramatically in preparation for training as a pyramid. I hummed and hahed before realising the obvious… The pillars of the lower steps must be visible and the yew must not obscure the dam. But it is surprising how long it took me to realise that a pyramid would be the ideal shape. Since the newly laid grass path has a topdressing of compost similar to the beds, it rather disappears at the moment. And in the harsh light the irrigation pipes are the dominant line. But I promise you: when you sit on the bench looking across this view, with the curves of the New Old Rose Garden to your left, the big lawn and the blobby rhythm of the Upper Rosemary Border to your right, and an assortment of trees framing the view and protecting your back… it is, I believe, potentially the most beautiful spot in the garden. You can read about the planning of the garden here. We have revisited the choice of roses and made some changes. Hopefully when we go to Johannesburg at the end of the month we will collect the 26 roses due to go in here. Although quite frankly at this stage I’d be happy for the hedges to settle down first.

Here is the view from across the big lawn. To the left you can see where we dug up the grass for the paths and are still digging for other lawn work. In the process the upper border is being squared off and enlarged. This will give a new area for annuals and other flowers. I want to start collecting dahlias, as there are a great many old varieties around Haenertsburg. There is a whole new development waiting here! In the process the lawn is now finally surrounded by straight lines – the wavy top border, its shape never really planned, was more and more of an anomaly.

When I turned my head from taking the last picture, this is what I saw. With a bit of imagination you can see the water-spout beyond Alfred’s Arches. Last year I decided the Arches, of pussy-willow, had to be cut down and grow out again; then I relented, but in the winter decided that the Arches really were looking tatty. Now I look at them as they start to fill out with young green, and I find the rustic rhythm totally enchanting. What to do? I guess there is so much else that needs doing that this is far from a priority!

The dogs and I make our way down the Arches, past the Garden Celebrating an Imperfect Universe (much more of a priority!) and down to the Makou Dam. Where we stop to enjoy the reflections and the thousands of backlit plants in the arboretum.

Along the edge there is a self-sown clump of the beautiful local lily, Scilla natelensis. Usually they choose stony well-drained slopes, but these, perched on the edge 30cm above the water, are blissfully happy. Which makes me so too.

Around the corner on the dam wall grow the clump of Siberian irises we first planted there 20 odd years ago, and which we thought had disappeared. As you can see – they are back in force! Then we stop to collect stones for a rosemary bonsai I am preparing as a birthday present for Felicity, my dad’s care-giver and my adopted sister.

Here it is, settling in in the greenhouse. I know nothing about bonsai and have never attempted it before. I’m sure my rocks overhanging the container break every rule, but I’m quite pleased with the way I managed to arrange the gnarled plant as though it had grown out from amongst the stones, just like the ones I found growing in the garrigue when I was in the south of France… But onward and upward (to quote my blogging friend Frances…)

I stopped to photograph the pink flowering cherry, but it was the view of the garden that intrigued me. Look how neat the hedges are on the left, and how good the Upper Rosemary Border is looking with its regular shrubby rhythm. To the right of the red azaleas (which are looking great against the long blue line of the rosemary hedge) there is over 100m2 of recently planted scatterpack. It is germinating nicely and a green haze lies across the ground there. I’m hoping for a fortissimo display by December. And in the bed below that the cannas are beginning to make an impression.

 

This is the area I particularly came to see:  the mollis azaleas in shades of yellow and orange near the darkest of our three copper beeches. Let’s take a closer look.

Difficult to capture the luminous darkness of the beech without the orange of the azalea looking washed out by the strong sunlight.

So we need to take a look at the azalea on its own – and even then the light is far from ideal…

The yellow one, in the shade, is easier to capture. But what I can’t share is the heavenly scent of these azaleas.

For richness of colour, delicacy and perfume these azaleas are a match for the best roses can offer – what a pity that they flower for only a week or two!

I spend some time here, treasuring the moment, enjoying the scented shade.

Taubie agrees and joins me; Mateczka and Abigail snuffle around happily, chase down paths, then come back to check all is OK with us. Monty is away patrolling his territory, probably entertaining visitors at the Cheerio tea-garden, relishing his role as the alpha male (human and otherwise) of the valley…

All in all it is a good place to be… especially at this time of year.

 

AZALEA VIEWS AND A PLACE TO REST

I promised a view of the completed seating area; like most newly completed garden features, it makes an unsatisfactory subject: not even I can see the Coralbark Maples planted in the three pots to the right; the foreground is decidedly raw and the various stumps beyond the seats make no visual sense. Not to mention the fact that the very utilitarian garden tap, deliberately included in the design, rather dominates the foreground despite the presence of Abigail. But last Sunday I came upon two ladies enjoying their picnic lunch here, even before the garden was completed. Mission accomplished.

The season would not be complete without a few sweeping views of the azaleas in flower. So here goes. All these photos were taken up in the arboretum, specifically along the bank of azaleas that rises all the way up the slope between the tulip trees which form The Avenue.

 

Lastly some views at the Lilypond, where the wisteria has spectacular long trusses and the Mothertjie rose has now grown to flower throughout the indigenous  Rhamnus prinoides tree which hosts it– known as a Blinkblaar (Bright Leaf) or, more confusingly considering our dramatically flowering American versions, as a Dogwood.

 

EARLY SPRING, VISITORS

Two weeks, it is, since last I posted… It is the time of the Spring Festival; accommodation and the open garden at Sequoia Gardens and MountainGetaways are keeping me very busy. The unexpected 120mm in early September have resulted in more green than is usual in spring – we are heading for the best spring ever. What a pity the festival is over as my garden gets into its stride… The above photo, a 180 degree panorama, gives an idea of what the valley is looking like. The drive, of course, forms a straight line from left to right, but further away there is less distortion.

To celebrate my birthday I decided it was time to plant the hedges in the Mothers’ Garden, and give some purpose to the strange oblong of basically bare ground visitors find between the curves of the New Old Rose Garden (on the left above) and the big lawn. I finally decided on an informal hedge of Grevillea, (I think G. rosmarinifolia) an easy Australian plant that over many months starting in winter carries charming but unobtrusive coral flowers amongst its grey-green needles l which are greatly appreciated by nectar-loving birds. We also planted an Abelia x ‘Francis Mason’ hedge which will echo in shape the triangular one on the opposite side of the lawn against the Ellensgate Garden, before turning through 90 degrees, dropping to knee height and edging the seating platform. You can see the existing hedge below, together with the wisteria on the pergola in the Anniversary Garden.

These hedges are of course all grown from cuttings. Over the years we have propagated literally tens of thousands of plants to populate the six hectares of garden we have. In the above photo you can see one of the themes we have focused on in getting ready for the festival: making sure the pots were looking good. I am still smarting from a comment made last spring, about which I posted rather angrily over here…

I particularly focused on the area around the entrance, as a month before the festival everything was bleak and wintery and I was despairing about how to convince visitors it was worth even looking at my garden and calling it a spring garden… There is a strange and shady threshold you cross from a very rural parking area into a deliberately formal garden. In the event all the bright colour I decided on turned to shades of brick and mustard with a few white and pale blue highlights. But I think it is more effective and better integrated this way. To celebrate the opening, my huge (and recently transplanted) Mutabilis rose chose to push forth its first blossoms over the pots with colour. Success! On Saturday morning I took some terrible pics of the occurrence. Perhaps tomorrow I can pick up something better. Such has this week been that I’ve not ventured out with my camera leisurely in hand.

Later: a composite below – getting all the detail in one pic was not possible. Rosa chinensis mutabilis opens apricot, fades to straw, then reddens to crimson. Only semi-consciously I chose these colours when selecting my plants; my very first notes years ago for the colours in the Upper Rosemary Border were ‘brick reds and mustardy yellows’.

Since the photo below was taken last week, the struggling, excessively shaded Rosemaries to the left of the pot fountain have been ripped out and replaced with 7 Hydrangea serrata as part of a development in the shade of the tree. A small new paved area with seating will be completed this weekend when I plant the three pots with Acer palmatum ‘Sango-kaku’, the Japanese Coral-bark Maple. Besides being a spot for visitors to rest in the shade, it also sets the scene of rustic formality I wish to impress on them.

This has been the first opportunity in weeks to work with my staff in the garden. However our visitors who have seen the garden before, all commented on how very lovely the garden is looking, how neat and cared for everything appears. It was good to share this news with the staff, because it has mostly been their own initiative that inspired these comments.

Pics of the completed Entrance Room (as I’ve decided to call it) will have to wait for the next post. Here are a few more pics of the entrance area – looking from the entrance and then looking back to it.

The entrance is also where we announce the latest of the tourism initiatives on The Mountain: the TMA  Mountain Bike Trails, two of which pass through Sequoia Gardens, one of 5 and one of 25km:

But back to visitors: allow me to brag with this pic of the visitors’ parking filled with cars last Sunday…

To end: a collage of pots…

 

SPRING COLOURS 3–LAST WEEKEND CONCLUDED

I am in Johannesburg, busy with a marketing expo for Warriors, but I hear the garden is again wet and cold. An ideal build-up to the spring fair, especially as we planted up pots and annuals during the week, and sowed over 150m2 (150 sq. yards) of scatterpack – the annual meadow mix flowers which were spectacularly successful several years ago, but which I’ve not repeated since.

After all the close-ups over the last two posts, lets take a look at the bigger picture. The arboretum is often now a closed view down a path, suddenly opening up to bigger views and even distant views, and from some spots a panorama down onto the main formal gardens in front of the big house. The thousands of azaleas planted here are starting to flower…

Along the top edge of the arboretum there is an avenue of crab-apples, looking magnificent en masse.

And even more magnificent in detail…

This is Malus floribunda – and abundantly it flowers! Malus purpurea might not be purple, but as is so often the case with plants, ‘purpurea’ indicates a darkness of leaf and flower. I love these dusky shades!

Near the top end of Freddie’s Dam there is a viburnum which has a short magnificent flowering season when its scent spreads far and wide. I’m certain I know what it is called, but I don’t have my resources with me to check… beyond it against the water is the purple new-leaved maple I referred to in my previous post.

Here is a close-up of the flowers – both beautiful and scented. For the rest of the year it is, like so many viburnums, a very non-descript shrub.

And here it is again because – well, why not?

Nearby are some dogwood trees – Cornus florida. Their ‘flowers’ are in fact bracts which start expanding in August and last through to October –much longer than the fragile blossoms!

In the close-up you can see the tiny flowers which are surrounded by the bracts.

I also have a red version of which I am extraordinarily proud.

Another shrub or small tree which does well with  us, and of which I am proud, is Magnolia, considered to be one of the most primitive flowering plants.  This one is M. x soulangiana. It has a fist-sized fleshy flower, heavily scented of… soap. That is merely because I got to know the scented soap before the flower. It only slightly dulls my pleasure in it!

So where does that leave us? With more blossoms to explore, in particular the various pyrus (pears) and prunus (cherries, almonds etc.); here is a taste. I’ll need to get home and get my camera out for more.

One last indulgence. Wisteria. In particular the wisteria and japonica together in the Anniversary Garden.

 

One last one… in the bed up against the house the first diaramas shoot from nothingness to ther mauve flowers in only a week or two. They combine rather dramatically with the last of the orange aloes…

 

SPRING COLOURS 2–NEW LEAVES

The good rain, I am sure, will result in earlier and more beautiful leaves. Here the first leaves of a Spanish Chestnut against the thick carpet of last season’s leaves.

This is a Horse Chestnut, larger than life-size. The five-fingered compound leaves quickly turn green. I am hoping this tree will flower for the first time this summer – it must now be over 12 years old…

 

Evergreens they might be, but even the pines display a freshness at this season as their growth buds elongate.

The Swamp Cypresses, till recently still delighting us with their cinnamon autumnal shades, are showing a shimmering green haze.

And the mosses which languished during the dry months have plumped up.

Some Japanese Maples are dressed and ready – others are still quite naked.

My favourite Japanese Maple with the red young leaves is glowing expectantly, with young leaves emerging like butterflies into the spring air.

But perhaps the Liquidamber formosanas best illustrate the fresh greens which we so desperately crave!

 

SPRING COLOUR 1- SOME AZALEA CLOSE-UPS

If I write, I’ll never get done. So let’s go with the visuals…

And just in case this has all been too subtle for you…

 

EARLY SPRING

Never before have the months leading up to spring been this dry; but twice that I  know of we have had much drier years, where the water stops flowing from the dams, even if seepage means there is still a slight inflow. Those are desperate years. This year the sponge of the mountain is still quite wet after two lots of extremely good rain in early 2012, but I’m pretty certain we are at the beginning of a dry cycle. We don’t really feel climate change in South Africa – we are used to cycles of good years and bad years. In fact the last 40 odd years, from my perspective at least, have been less extreme, not more so. Unlike the UK we have not swung from one record to the next these last 20 years…

The memory of those two dry years remain. In fact my own memory of the drought of the 60s and my parents’ recall of the drought of the 30s when my maternal grandfather had to give up farming and move his young family to the city, add a spiritual dimension to the need for rain. And that is why on Friday afternoon’s damp walk, with the week’s rainfall figure heading towards 100mm, I listened to and looked at the gurgling stream and I heard my late mother’s voice say: “Oh if only my father could see the water flow on this farm!”

These shots were taken in poor light on my phone. There were many more – but most too blurred to even consider as snapshots… In the upper photo an unusual view of the rear end of the Icon Bridge, and dogwoods and blossoms and fresh greens in the distance. In the lower photo Taubie celebrates the water in her way, drinking from the brim-full overflow of Freddie’s Dam. Two more shots are worth sharing:

a white dogwood – Cornus florida and the first leaves on my favourite Japanese maple, one which has the most delicately red young foliage which turns green within weeks.

Later: the rain stopped after 101mm. Sunday was gloriously sunny and I went on a long walk with my camera. There are 65 photos I titled and added to the shortlist from 100s. The screenshot of that selection I include now because it best of all illustrates the sudden brightening, the change in the colour palette as spring kicks in… Over the next days – expect some spring colour here!

 

VISITING WEGRAAKBOSCH ORGANIC DAIRY

Nearby neighbours (if that is not tautology!) Nipper and Sophie Thompson are still pretty unique in a South African context. I say ‘still’ because just as in the rest of the world, the organic movement is growing here. But for many South Africans ‘organic’ is the equivalent of the ultimate third world horror: ‘unmodern’ and even ‘backward’.

Yesterday they invited me over to see the wisteria outside the dairy, which is in glorious full flower. That surprised me, because my earliest ones are not yet showing colour and my last to flower are still showing no sign of growth at all. Although barely 1 km away, it is much warmer here than we are, but still… It IS a glorious sight, the longest of the racemes nearly 1/2 a meter long and the colour a good strong mauve. It grows over the pergola where the rustic tables stand where people share their cheese platters on a visit. Adjacent, in a neat amphitheatre curve of narrow terraces, is the vegetable garden where the Thompsons raise the organic greens for which they are also famous.

But what made me decide to write about the dairy, not only on my blog but also at http://www.facebook.com/MountainGetaways , was the way in which the farm animals welcomed me, as they clearly do all visitors to this local tourist attraction. These geese positively ran up to be photographed – or so it seemed!

And the dogs were as welcoming as only intelligent and well-loved dogs can be. These two sheep dogs are working farm animals, helping to look after the goats and cows that provide the milk for the organic dairy. Even on my short visit I had an overwhelming sense: this is a place where the world is at peace with itself…