Spring back

 

Early September, 2022

In Australia, it's early Spring. If you live near the Toowoomba region, you know it's Carnival of Flowers time. The annual celebration for the Garden City. This year though, Spring represents a whole new way of life for me. It's the place of regrowth, from a rather harsh prune in my personal life, last year. Come have a wander around my garden, and catch up for a spell.

My son and I are still living here. The end of next month will mark a year since our lives changed so dramatically. I've wanted to return to my blog so many times. Between not having enough spare time and still so much to process, emotionally, I had to let the blog sit fallow for a spell.

There are just seasons to sit. Not pressing into life. Instead, absorbing stillness and not feeling left behind. My garden is just waking up, after such a period over winter too.

Black Wattles (Acacia aulacocarpa)

Now the wattles are in full bloom. Truth be told, they've been blooming for about a month already. We are a little warmer than up the hill, in the Garden city. Locals call it a hill, but it's really a mountain range.

With the wattles covered in blooms though, bees have been gorging themselves - and nectar feeding birds are not even bickering over territory. There is just so much in bloom right now, they are spoiled for choice. Stark contrast to news from my Northern Hemisphere neighbours, who have experienced a drought this past growing season.

Usually, that's the story I tell in my garden. Drought is not uncommon for Australian landscapes. Yet, it has been one of the wettest seasons I have ever experienced living here. From Spring '21 to Spring '22, my garden has not lacked for rain.

Black wattle (Acacia aulacocarpa)

I scratch my head and wonder, how things have been changing for gardens around the world. A garden reflects transition. A signal of things to come, or things that have come to an end. We're never quite sure where a region will sit, from year to year. There are predictions, but even those can change unexpectedly. For better, or worse.

My car has been sporting a lovely shade of brown wattle blooms, fallen from the tree it's parkeed under. The windscreen wipers get clogged with the fuzzy debris too. What can you do? Drive around like a country bumpkin, that doesn't know what a carport is. Like every seasonal transition, the flurry of wattle blooms will pass. But for now, I'm sporting red mud and wattle blooms as an exercise in contentment.

Green umbrellas

My grandfather - a cold-country cattle man, used to say - if you received the first rains of the season, you would receive them all. Well, the nasturtian leaves in my garden, on the first day of Spring, may be signalling things to come. I am hopeful for my garden this year.

A shout-out to those, whose gardens' may be parched and dry though. I've weathered many of those too. I kept the greenery in my heart, and made an indoors garden instead. It got me through those times I couldn't look out the window, and see anything but brown.

I especially feel for those with livestock, depending on their gardens to feed and water their animals. A necessary time to reflect on what's important. Things change as new decision are made, to adapt.

Tender new growth

This has certainly been a theme, since I started my blog. Resilence in the landscape. I've had to learn strategies to keep things alive, in a landscape that was constantly on life-support. Despite the harsh conditions sometimes, my garden limped along and even made progress. I was amazed how much life wanted to excel, regardless of the lack of provision. 

I planted a barrell of lettuce and beets recently, to remind me to remain hopeful. Because lettuce doesn't normally do well in our hot, humid conditions. It bolts to seed like no-one's business. Then it's gone. Bitter. Only good to feed the compost worms. So I don't plant it. 

My personal fallow season, had me grapling with hope through winter. I was hesitant to invest in anything that might dash my hopes again. Especially after losing so much in my personal life, so unexpectedly. But then something happens, which inevitably does after a harsh prune. Regrowth emerges. Then plants a barrell of lettuce.

Purple, Osteospermum ecklonis

 

I love a flurry of flowers, in the springtime. My favourite, purple groundcover, does well in the wet and dry. This particular clump is growing on clay and building debris, left from the original house build. The African Daisy, has a reputation for resilence - and is no exception in my garden. 

I've been deadheading flowers, every 2-3 days. It's prolific. There are at least two more clumps, growing in the garden. I love this genus so much, I had to collect more.

Blue-eyed Beauty

 

This is a new hybrid variety of the same genus. Buttery yellow petals, with a splash of purple in the middle. Plenty of buds on the way, so I hope to enjoy this new variety in the garden, for a while to come. It's quite the show stopper for me. Never fails to grab my attention. Almost like a mini sunflower.

Something esle I've introducted to my life lately - studying for a Cert III in Business Admin, since April. The legendary story goes, I was once a legal-secretary in training. After a Quest to find the ultimate Garden City though, I eventually sheathed my secretarial sword and doned the garden gloves instead. How many decades later? Don't ask. Anyway...

I've just finished my assessments for this term, with one-term left. I graduate by the end of year. 

Photinia, Red Robin

So many possibilities in store for the future. Much like the pentiful flowers of this Photinia. A very popular evergreen shrub in this region. Small native bees, love the pettite flowers. As do the European bees.

Me, on the other hand, I love coffee! Random fact. 

Not much to do with a garden. Unless you like to drink your coffee in one. Or grow your own coffee in a garden. Okay, maybe it's got something to do with a garden? 

Pink Diosma

 

This is quite a remarkable shrub. It's part of the original plantings, to go in here. So has endured years of floods and years of drought. Yet look at how it's adorned. I feel like this shrub. I turned 48 in the middle of the year. Living through the same extremes - and then some. Yet look at how I'm adorned. 

Still completely equipped with everything I need. Another quest in the making. That's me. Putting on new growth and can't stop blooming.

Keeping the garden tidy

I haven't completely made this garden. Somehow though, this garden reflects me. Anyone to don the garden gloves, through good seasons and bad - understands this remarkable fete. We leave our mark, don't we? Then the garden demonstrates, we were only part of the equation. Because it kept growing through the good and bad seasons, along with us. Showing how to show up. Even after we quit.

A garden is inevitable. Just like us.

Maybe turn off the news. Put down social media. Step into a garden and see what it has to say about you. It will be nothing short of an enlightening conversation. 

What's growing on?

I want to thank those who have popped in, while I was on hiatus. To share your curiosity of my whereabouts. You were in my thoughts too. So was this space. I have garden projects to share. Small endeavours, I've been plugging away at.

I've got two weeks holidays and sure I can manage to post something.  

I hope you are enjoying your gardens, wherever they are planted in the world. What are they telling you, right now?

Cheers,

CK