It’s that time of the year again, when I look out my study window to see a landscape that’s neither here, nor there. Gone is the frost bleached grass and golden light of June. Gone is the crystal-like starkness of July. It’s mid August, and while the occasional magnolia or daffodil enlivens the scene, the view from my vantage point is mostly of a garden where all the colours lose their definition and blend to form a kind of drab, muddy olive.
Small wonder then, that people get so easily seduced by big flowers in the dying days of winter. I’m not immune. A few weeks ago in this column I positively gushed about a Yulan magnolia in Toowoomba, and though it was a genuinely spectacular sight, I realise now that the tree’s beauty was intense, but fleeting. By now, the display will be waning, and within weeks, all trace of July glory will be stored away as happy memories.
What I want from my garden, besides wholesome food and a feeling of peace, is a human scale landscape that resonates with deep and abiding beauty. Some people approach the garden like they would a serious of casual flings. They get all hot and heavy about a particular plant one month, and when it loses its lustre, go all ga-ga about something else. That kind of infatuation does nothing for me.
Instead, as I become more experienced as a gardener I’m learning to appreciate subtle, more lasting beauties. This is especially so during the drab days of August when there’s little else by way of distraction and I can train my eye to really see. Suddenly, I start to notice that the garden is actually full of colour, just not as gaudy as that in spring and summer. And there are some wonderful textures to admire, from the felty softness of lamb’s ears to the lustrous gloss of a camellia japonica leaf.
But what really catches my eye is an interesting array of barks. If there’s such a thing as a true gardener, you can pick them, says Jackie French, by their appreciation of bark. Really? When was the last time you took a proper look at a tree with beautifully patterned or wonderfully textured bark?
There are plenty to choose from. One of my favourites has to be the snow gum, Eucalyptus pauciflora, which has so beautifully patterned and coloured bark that it looks like it was painted on the tree by God himself. I’ve yet to see it offered for sale in a nursery this far north of the Snowy Mountains, but if it was, I’d snap one up and give it a go. Another of my favourites is the bark of Eucalyptus maculata, commonly called spotted gum, and even the bark of the locally common Sydney blue gum is beautiful.
If your garden is too small for a massive eucalypt, and most these days are, there are still many trees to choose from. Crepe myrtles, which range from shrubs to small trees, have smooth, patterned bark a bit like that of a snow gum, and it offers a timeless counterpart to the tree’s dazzling summer flowers and autumn foliage. Also smooth but wonderfully rust coloured is the bark of the Irish Strawberry Tree, Arbutus unedo. It makes a nice evergreen shade tree and is great for kids to climb.
River birch, Betula nigra, has a lovely exfoliating bark that flakes away to reveal underlying layers of cream, pink and orange. Snakebark maples such as Acer davidii have unusual green bark with prominent vertical stripes and are worth tracking down from a specialist supplier. There are some good examples in Davidson Arboretum at Highfields, along with lots of Japanese maples. Many of these have bark colours that glow during winter, the pick in my opinion being the coral bark maple, Acer japonica ‘Sango Kaku’.
Another plant I really like for its bark is the cherry tree. Some have amazing glossy bark that when rubbed, polishes up like the finest cabinet timber. The most incredible bark you’ll ever see, and I say this hypothetically because I’ve only seen it in photos, is the bark of the Tibetan cherry, Prunus serrula. You’d swear that you were looking at a piece of French polished mahogany.
Then there’s the green bark of Illawarra flame trees, the bark of young apple trees, the rough hewn bark of Chinese elms – seriously, I could go on for hours. The point I’m trying to make is straightforward: flowers are fleeting, and there are other aspects to the garden that have a beauty and a charm that endure. Like bark. It seems insignificant, but that’s how life goes. Some of the most beautiful things abhor the limelight, revealing their wonder only to those who are prepared to really look.
First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 14th August 2010. Photo by Amanda Slater via flickr.com, snowgum bark.
