Regular readers of Secret Garden know that I’m a weather nerd, so it should come as little surprise to hear that at the end of each month, I religiously pull out my rainfall record and tally up the total for the preceding four weeks. Some months, the figure is cause for celebration, and optimism for the weeks ahead. Other months, more than I’d like to admit, it’s commiserations all round.

July was the latter. A paltry 24mm (one inch for the imperialists!) fell in the gauge – about half the long term Hampton average. This is just enough to keep the garden afloat during a cool winter, but on the back of an even paltrier 11mm in June, means that we’re heading into our driest months of the year with precious little moisture in the soil.

For purely ornamental gardens, a dry outlook isn’t much of a big deal. It means some jobs might need to be put off, and that some extra watering might be necessary to help young plants get established. But my garden is mostly about food. I’m setting it up to supply my family with as much home grown produce as possible from my two acre smallholding, and in this regard, it’s vital that I keep an eye on the weather forecasts and plan accordingly. The question is, how do you plan ahead when the weather is so fickle?

A good part of the answer is to understand the distinction between weather, and climate. Time is the key factor. Weather might be described as the atmospheric conditions over a short period of time, whereas climate refers to atmospheric patterns that occur over a long period of time. Global warming aside, climate is closely associated with the seasons and therefore, tends to be relatively stable, and consistent. With this in mind, my strategy should be to do what farmers do and plan for the months ahead using my garden’s long term climate as a basic guide.

The other thing I can do to plan ahead is consult indigenous culture, which in my view is a greatly overlooked source of wisdom about how to live well on earth’s driest inhabited continent. In Aboriginal society, landscape, plants, animals, ancestors and weather are all interconnected. By accumulating an intricate knowledge of the continent’s various climates over tens of thousands of years, the indigenous Australians developed a subtle description of the seasons and used their knowledge to predict the timing of various shifts in the weather.

As many as six, or as few as three seasons were recognised, depending on the location. In contrast, British settlers relied upon the basic four season description of summer-autumn-winter-spring so applicable to northern Europe. Though this remains the predominant model, indigenous wisdom is gradually being recognised.

Brisbane-based Gardening Australia presenter Jerry Coleby-Williams has taken a cue from indigenous climate observation to suggest that south-east Queensland experiences a fifth season. After a very brief spring in late August and early September, Jerry has observed that a pre-summer season occurs before the summer wet begins in December. He calls this pre-summer season “crematoria”.

It’s a foreboding kind of name, but one that perfectly describes the typically hot, dry, and windy weather that can persist during September, October and November. Last year we had a classic crematoria season marked by regular dust storms, and hot, north-westerly winds –awful conditions for gardening, particularly the establishment of new plants. Lots of gardeners relying on tank irrigation ran out of water.

Now I’m yet to hear the BOM identify a fifth season called crematoria, and in fact, the official climate models are predicting the development of a La Nina weather pattern during late spring and early summer. In other words it could get wet, and the evidence for crematoria is entirely anecdotal. But in my view Jerry’s on to something. If I’m to be serious about planning ahead for the coming season I’d be smart to take into consideration the potential for a few dry and windy months.

Here then, is my crematoria action plan: I’ll try to give young fruit trees better protection from drying wind and will water regularly; I’ll try to complete major plant-outs in the vegie garden following a rain event, instead of blindly following the calendar; I’ll top dress as many plants as possible with compost and replenish mulch in garden beds and around trees; I’ll attempt to make stored rainwater go further by using soil wetters and incorporating as much rotted organic matter as possible. Beyond that, I’ll continue to hold out hope that late 2010 will produce the creek flowing, dam filling rain we still so desperately need.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 7th August 2010.

Tomorrow is National Tree Day, and as in previous years, I’ll be getting outside and finding a place for a native seedling or two somewhere in my garden. This year, I’ve earmarked a spot for a Crows Ash, Flindersia australis. This species would have been indigenous to my area when the land was virgin forest, and there are still some fine old specimens around. A beauty can be found in the south-west corner of Peacehaven Botanic Park at Highfields, where Tree Day celebrations will be held tomorrow morning. As a complement I’ll also be planting a couple of fruit trees.

It might comes as a surprise, considering the lack of publicity such an important initiative receives, to hear that National Tree Day has been an annual event for the last 15 years. It was co-founded in 1996 by Olivia Newton-John and the environmental organisation Planet Ark, and to date, is responsible for planting more than 15 million native trees. Another one million or so will go in the ground tomorrow.

Some of the benefits of planting trees are obvious. At the most basic level, they create shade, helping to cool us down. You think this would be so simple that it’s elementary, but drive through some of the new estates in Toowoomba or Highfields and you’ll enter a surreal landscape almost totally devoid of any trees. Why run the air conditioner all day to cool yourself down in summer when a well located tree can do the job for free? You’re welcome to live where you like, but lest we end up inadvertently creating suburban deserts, I think it would be wise to plant more trees.

Maybe you’re of the opinion that you prefer your air conditioner, and all this tree planting caper is a bit of a lark. Let me try to convince you otherwise by pointing to the example of Kenya’s Green Belt Movement (GBM) and its inspiring founder, environmental and political activist Professor Wangari Maathai. Since 1977, GBM has planted more than 45 million trees in sub-Saharan Africa, established 6,000 village nurseries, and trained more than 30,000 poor rural women in skills such as horticulture, forestry, food processing, and bee-keeping.

The net result of such activity is that desertification in north east Kenya has been halted by GBM’s planting of long “green belts” in what was an eroded and deforested landscape. With reforestation comes increased biodiversity and restored ecosystems, as well as fewer crop failures and water shortages. Wangari Maathai received the 2004 Nobel Peace Prize for her efforts. Her work is based on the belief that a healthy natural environment is at the heart of an equitable and peaceful society.

Contrast what’s happening in Kenya with the situation occurring in Niger, north-west Africa. Here, rampant desertification has encroached on what little arable land the already dry country possessed, leaving more than 80% of the landscape covered by desert and causing major food insecurity. Some reforestation efforts have been undertaken in recent years, but it hasn’t been enough. Now facing a prolonged drought, it is estimated that half of Niger’s population of 15 million is suffering form severe malnutrition. More than three million are classified as starving. Kids, as always, are being hit the hardest.

What’s the link between starving children in west Africa and a festive day of planting in the comparatively fertile Darling Downs in Australia. It’s the importance of trees. Once and for all we need to clear up the misconception that trees are little more than obstacles and inconveniences standing in the way of development. Let’s get real. Trees are vital. They provide habitat – for ourselves and for native animals – they help maintain healthy rural landscapes, they feed us, and we ought to never underestimate the role they play in enhancing our collective quality of life. Trees deserve far more respect than we currently afford them.

I’ll leave the last word to Wangari Maathai:

“I love the trees, I love the colour. To me they represent life, and they represent hope. I think it is the green colour. I tell people I think heaven is green.”

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 31st July 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – old growth Eucalypts, Peacehaven Botanic Park, Highfields.

The Toowoomba range is host to some fine gardens, but in my view they don’t get much finer than the rangetop paradise in Leslie Street known as Stirling House. Established by John and Jill Stirling in the 1960’s, and now owned by hospitable couple Colin Fitzgerald and Dr Viola Nicholson, the garden comprises two acres of magnificent cool climate trees, hundreds of roses, classic bluestone paths, and lots of lovely woodland perennials.

What Stirling House is most famous for though, is its camellias. There are dozens of beautiful specimens scattered amongst the garden, most in full flower when I visited last weekend and yet all of them outdone by the prized yellow species Camellia nitidissima.

As stunningly beautiful as this camellia was on the day (I’ll write about it in a later article), it was actually outshone for sheer visual splendour by another exotic plant. Like a gifted Academy Award winner being upstaged by a glamorous supporting actress, the star of the show when I visited Stirling House was undoubtedly a Magnolia denudata in full, exquisite bloom.

The Yulan, as Magnolia denudata is commonly known, makes an arresting sight when it produces masses of huge, pure white blooms on bare wood during the second half of winter. It certainly stopped the 18^th century plant explorers dead in their tracks. Imagine the sheer astonishment of a sweaty English botanist, trekking along an ancient pathway in the lower Himalayas, stumbling across a misty valley bleached white with the blooms of thousands of magnolias. The contrast with the less exotic flora back home would have been absolutely stark. It still is, especially when the blooms are admired against the backdrop of a clear winter sky.

Magnolia denudata was named for its region of origin in central China. Here it can still be found growing in moist upland forests amongst camellias and rhododendrons on deep, fertile soil. The genus magnolia was introduced to horticulture by the famous botanist Sir Joseph Banks, who was absolutely delighted to open a consignment from China in 1792 containing the first ever specimen of Magnolia denudata from Dr Alexander Duncan, a surgeon working in Canton.

From this point on, the flames of an international love affair with magnolias were kindled, and it’s fair to say that the passion for these magnificent plants never really went out. In 1820, a retired French army captain by the name Etienne Soulange-Bodin crossed Magnolia denudata with Magnolia liliiflora to produce the hybrid Magnolia x soulangeana. Combining the best qualities of each of its parents, “soulangeana” is now the most widely grown of all the deciduous magnolias, lighting up Toowoomba during August and September with its opulent, pink blushed flowers. It’s a decent plant, but by no means the best magnolia in cultivation.

In addition to the Yulan magnolia described at the outset, there are some other beauties worth seeking out. For small gardens Magnolia liliiflora ‘Nigra’ is the pick. It’s a slow grower that will eventually reach just a few metres tall and produces lovely dark purple flowers on a multi-stemmed shrub. Almost as good is Magnolia stellata, which has white star shaped flowers and rarely exceeds three metres in height.

For larger gardens my picks would be ‘StarWars’ a tall growing variety that continues flowering through summer and autumn, ‘Vulcan’ with it’s striking purple-red flowers, and ‘Elizabeth’, a classy, late flowering yellow cultivar that grows strongly and is capable of reaching six metres or more in height. Use it to accompany your yellow flowered camellia and be the envy of all your gardening friends!

If that’s your ambition, and it’s not actually one that I’d seriously recommend, better get your conditions right. Magnolias are ancient plants dating back to prehistory, but they do have fairly specific requirements to really perform well. Chief amongst these is a mountain soil that’s rich, deep, well drained and slightly acid. A cool climate is preferred, and protection from severe late winter frosts is important to prevent the flower show from ending in tears too early in the piece.

This all sounds quite specific, but thankfully, the perfect conditions for growing brilliant magnolias can be found all along the Great Dividing Range, from the Bunya Mountains in the north to the suitable parts of the Granite Belt to the south. For those out west, magnolias are a trickier proposition. The best advice I can give is to try the evergreen cultivars of Magnolia grandiflora such as ‘Little Gem’, ‘St Mary’s’ and ‘Exmouth’. You shouldn’t feel left out. The evergreens are just as stunning as their deciduous cousins, and more tolerant to boot.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 24th July 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – Magnolia denudata, Stirling House, Toowoomba.

To dig or not to dig, that’s the question. If you’re part of the legion of new vegie gardeners taking up the spade in a quest for the good life, you could be forgiven for wondering who you should believe. The advice seems completely contradictory. Should one take the advice of the no-dig advocates, who argue passionately for the spade to be left in the shed, or is it safest to believe the traditional gardeners, who argue that theirs is a tried and true method refined over hundreds of years? Or is there a third way that finds some common ground between the two extremes?

We’ll get to the answer later, but first, let’s explore what I mean by “no-dig” gardening. The concept has actually been around for decades, just under different names. It began in the1930’s with the Japanese farmer/philosopher/scientist Masanobu Fukuoka, who from 1938 until his death in 2008, experimented with various small scale farming techniques that he collectively referred to as “natural farming”. Fukuoka’s philosophy was based on a simple concept: the farmer should interfere as little as possible with natural processes. Crops could be grown, he argued, without machines, with no prepared fertiliser and no chemicals, yet attain yields equal to or greater than the conventional Japanese farm.

One of the main components of the Fukuoka approach was to use ancient techniques like cover cropping and seed balls in order to totally avoid having to cultivate the soil. Fukuoka’s concept was characterised as “no-till” farming and enthusiastically embraced during subsequent decades by both agricultural scientists and the growing band of farmers interested in natural farming methods. It wasn’t until the late 1970’s though, that a Sydney gardener named Esther Deans applied Fukuoka’s techniques to the domestic backyard.

In two well regarded books, Deans outlined the concept of “no-dig” gardening. Her basic idea was to build garden beds above the soil surface by layering various materials on top of each other like a kind of horticultural lasagne. Layer one is wet newspaper laid on the soil (or lawn) surface to smother weeds and grass. Layer two is straw or lucerne hay. Layer three is organic fertiliser such as pelletised chicken manure, or blood and bone. Layer four is straw. Layer five is manure. Layer six, the top layer, is good quality compost. Each layer is watered progressively as the beds are built.

Anyone who’s done a spot of composting will know what’s going here. When first made, a true no-dig garden is basically a fancy compost heap. A high nitrogen material (manure) combined with a high carbon material (straw) will decompose in the presence of moisture and oxygen, creating a soil-like material (humus) that is okay for growing plants in.

No-dig advocates claim a slew of advantages over traditional techniques. No-dig gardens don’t need to be cultivated, thereby eliminating damage to fragile soil flora and fauna. They are perfect for those who are unable to wield heavy tools. They are more fertile than traditional gardens. They can be made over really poor soil or even solid concrete.

Sounds great, doesn’t it. In practice, no-dig isn’t as simple as it appears, especially long term. As no-dig gardens decompose, they shrink, and need to be constantly topped up with copious quantities of organic matter. When built over a hard pan, serious drainage problems can develop in wet conditions. No dig garden beds need to be either really narrow or modular for ease of access. Then there’s the myth shattering truth that vegetables need to planted, and planting (even sowing) requires some degree of cultivation. There ain’t no such thing as a totally “no dig” vegetable garden.

So in answer to my original question, to dig or not to dig, my approach is to find a middle way. I’ve tried no-dig gardening, and it proved a tricky proposition. Instead, my philosophy is one of minimal till. I believe there are times when a good dig is beneficial for both the health of the garden, and the health of the gardener. While I don’t advocate the old techniques of double digging and annual winter cultivation, I have no qualms about digging in a green manure crop, cultivating the soil as part of my annual crop rotation, or growing carrots in ground worked to a fine tilth.

I suppose what I’m saying is that there’s a case to be made for digging, but with restraint rather than abandon. Before putting spade to soil, I try to use my brain. I ask myself questions, things like: “why massacre earthworms if I don’t have to”; and “do I really need dig this particular bed, or am I blindly following convention”. In gardening, as in life, the real answer is all about finding a healthy sense of balance.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 29th June 2010.

I was saddened last week to hear about the death of Highfields winemaker and avid conservationist, Don McLean. Though I didn’t know Don well, he struck me as a likeable sort of bloke, happy and quick to smile, always ready to disarm someone with his cheeky sense of humour. Don was generous too. When I toured his vineyard and interviewed him for a story a couple of years ago, I came away not only brimming with knowledge about growing grapes and the winemaking process, but sporting two bottles of Highfields finest to boot. It was an unexpected gesture from a really genuine person.

In the brief time that I knew him, I learnt a few worthwhile lessons from Don. One was to care deeply about your place in the world. On one of my visits to Highfields Wines, Don took me on a tour of the property where he shared openly about his love for the land and his determination to care for it.

He told me about the indigenous history of the Cawdor district, pointing out landmarks where the first inhabitants conducted ceremonies and showing me sites on the property where artefacts had been found. Don showed me the property’s permanent creek and natural waterfall which is believed to be a campsite on one of the trails used by Aboriginal tribes travelling to the Bunya Mountains for the great bunya nut feasts. He showed me parts of the property gradually being revegetated using native plants, and we even stopped to check out a rare native crinum, blooming for the first time in years thanks to good summer rain.

Don introduced me to a little known gem of a place called Franke Scrub, a pocket of dry rainforest in a gully adjoining his property that is untouched by bushfire or the logger’s chainsaw. Franke Scrub is a remnant of the forest that covered much of the escarpment prior to suburban development and contains an unusually diverse mix of rare and endangered plants and native fauna. I was left with no doubt that Don was determined to see the scrub protected, despite plans at the time to build a new road smack through the middle of it.

Another thing I learnt from Don was the importance of looking after your soil. Highfields Wines is one of just a handful of unirrigated vineyards in Australia. When Don planted the first vines in 1998, he defied conventional practice at the time by purchasing plants grafted onto a drought resistant rootstock, planting the vines into ground that was deep ripped to half a metre, watering just once upon planting, and then covering the soil with mulch. Not a single vine from this first planting was lost. Don conceded that 1998 was wet, but suggested that ongoing success through severe drought was due to the vines’ extensive root system and the continually increasing capacity of the soil to store moisture.

This kind of careful husbandry has benefits for the winemaker and the drinker too. By growing vines without irrigation Don was able to produce fruit of intense flavour, and through the application of animal manures and blood and bone rather than synthetic urea, he managed to make what he described as “hangover free wine”. Studies have subsequently shown a link between urea, and the headaches some people get as a result of drinking wine.

A trendy word to describe Don’s approach to winemaking would be “holistic”. I think he was probably more pragmatic than that, preferring to see it simply as common sense: for the land to sustain future generations, it has to be carefully nurtured, not abused. In other words, you reap what you sow.

The final thing I learnt from Don, was that it’s okay, even necessary sometimes, to adopt a DIY approach to life. Don had a background in agricultural science, but as a winemaker, he was completely self-taught. He joked that his winemaking consultant was his partner Alison, and that he relied on old fashioned techniques like testing out his own product. “We rely on taste, smell and sight to produce our wines, not a computer,” Don told me. His approach proved to be both sustainable and successful.

I offer my sincere condolences to Don McLean’s family and friends. No doubt he will be sorely missed, and I’m thankful that I got to meet Don, and learn something from his determined approach to life.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle, 22nd May 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – Don in his vineyard.

All over the world the line between gardening and farming is rapidly being blurred. In the so called “rust-belt” of the United States, which includes declining industrial icons like Detroit and Pittsburgh, suburban wastelands full of derelict houses are being reclaimed for use as miniature farms. In debt stricken Los Angeles, micro farming businesses utilising rented backyards are springing up like California Poppies.

In the UK, an innovative scheme called Landshare brings together people with a plot of land to spare with those who want to grow their own food but have nowhere to do it. The project has got off to a flying start since launching last year. More than 47,000 members have joined the scheme, with back gardens, church yards, rural plots and even pub gardens being snapped up by land-sharers as soon as they become available. The UK’s National Trust has seen value in the scheme and has pledged to make available 1000 growing plots.

Even here in Toowoomba, a growing band of suburban gardeners are replacing ornamentals with edibles. At Gardenfest last weekend I got chatting with an experienced gardener about his interest in producing organic food. So keen is the bloke that he’s removed most of his rare plant collection, and is filling his 800sqm block with fruit trees and vegies.

This is all exciting stuff for a keen home grower like me to witness. I can’t help but think that finally, after decades spent filling gardening books with ornamentals and relegating fruit and vegies to the appendix, we’re starting to get the message that land is a precious resource, best used productively. I’m hopeful that we’re over the false notion that crops are grown on farms and gardens are made for the dual purpose of boosting property values, and making us feel warm and fuzzy.

Historically, the lines between gardening and agriculture have been unequivocally blurry. Right up until the boom period following World War II, and for a while thereafter, small, private gardens the world over were full of fruit, vegies, chooks and flowers all happily coexisting alongside kids playing summer games under the sprinkler. In a sense, everyone farmed. Just about every garden was productive. Then along came rising incomes. Cheap food produced using cheap energy flooded supermarkets, and with it came the perception that home grown food was something done in the Third World, not a prosperous country like Australia. Fruit trees were cut down and vegie patches became archaeological relics lost under a landscape of turf and conifers. Or worse. How many productive gardens have been lost to the frivolity of plunge pools and outdoor kitchens?

But cheap energy is now nostalgia. The fiasco unfolding in the Gulf of Mexico should remind us of what we all learned in basic primary school science: fossil fuels are finite, and logic suggests that if we use up enough of them, one day they’ll run out. What’s going to fuel the combine harvesters then? Where will farmers grow food when nigh on all the productive farmland has been lost to open cut coal mines and salt water spewing gas wells? We might be able to power the odd car and lightbulb, but how will we fuel our bodies?

The answer is right under our noses! It’s already arrived. Millions of gardeners have already turned the ornamental garden over to backyard food production, and guess what – the outdoor kitchen was never as useful as the indoor one and the plunge pool was useless in winter! Plus, as a bonus, it turns out that the edible garden looks just as pretty as the “ornamental” garden but is far more satisfying.

The word “agriculture” is derived from two Latin words – ager, meaning field, and cultura meaning cultivation. Taken literally, agriculture means “cultivation of a field”. Whether that field is the size of cricket oval or just a courtyard, if you’ve made up you’re mind to cultivate it, you’re engaged in agriculture. If that cultivation produces edible crops, as far as I’m concerned, you’re farming.

In the current issue, Time magazine has named its annual top 100 list of people who most affect the world. Alongside household names like Barack Obama, Sachin Tendulkar and Lady Gaga is Will Allen, a 62-year-old African American, six-foot-seven-inches tall former professional basketball player. Allen is an urban farmer. From a two-acre site in a poor Milwaukee neighbourhood, he produces a quarter of a million dollars worth of food that helps feed 10,000 people. Allen’s Growing Power foundation teaches people how to grow their own, and works on the motto “Grow. Bloom. Thrive.” Sounds like a pretty decent idea to me. What about you?

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle, 8th May 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – “Spring Vegies”.

It was with a new found sense of inspiration that I watched an ABC Collectors segment last Friday night on my neighbour and friend, Richard Jones. Richard and his wife Rosemary run Cloudlake Mountain Retreat, a working agri-tourism property and outstanding garden nestled in a hidden valley at Ravensbourne. The show featured Richard’s extensive collection of old and rare garden tools, all of which are used regularly on the farm yet beautifully maintained to keep them in excellent working order.

I can identify with Richard’s love of old gardening tools. One of my most treasured possessions is an English-made digging fork that belonged to my late Pa. Even though it’s more than 50 years old, Pa’s fork is a joy to work with. There’s something undeniably special gripping a timber handle that was similarly gripped by your mother and grandfather, and I’d love for one of my kids to enjoy the same sense of connectedness.

But I’ve been slack. On more occasions than I care to admit Pa’s fork and other treasured garden tools have been left out in the rain and few get looked after the way I would like.

If I’m to hand my tools down, I need to get myself organised. Here’s how I plan do it. You might think of this guide as a kind of “three pillars of garden tool care”.

1. Invest in quality

I’ve had my share of frustrating experiences with cheap garden tools, including perished plastic watering cans, and shears that kept losing a handle. But what really gave me the “irrits” was a spade that folded in half like a piece of tinfoil the first time I tried to drive it into the soil.

Since the spade incident a decade ago, I’ve resolved to always invest in quality tools. My purchasing strategy is simple: go for items that are strong enough be handed down to my grandkids, just like my Pa’s fork. In the case of garden tools, this often means seeking out a classic manufacturer that’s been around for decades, but still makes a quality product from top materials. My Swiss-made Felco secateurs are a good example. A much loved Barnel grafting knife (American) with a bobinga wood handle and Solingen blade is another. Don’t fall for the con that cheap tools represent value for money. Junk is junk.

2. House properly

My Mum, who helps me out in the garden when home from being a grey nomad, is always onto me about this one. Fair enough too. Exposure to the weather is bad news for metal surfaces but worse for timber components. Handles and shafts will expand and contract in the elements, making them dry out and splinter.

What I ought to do is put my tools back in the shed after I’m finished using them. Of course this strategy depends on a couple of things : having a shed to house tools in, and keeping it organised enough to house them properly. The shed bit’s no problem. I’ve got four old outbuildings in my garden. Keeping them organised, however, isn’t my strong suit. It’s time for a good cleanout, and I’ll make some proper racks to both get my tools up off the ground, and make them easy to find.

3. Maintain for longevity

Like pillar number two, this one was drilled into me from an early age. “If you want things to last you need to look after them” was a favourite saying of my Dad, and I’d be lying if I said that those words had never passed my lips when chiding my own kids. I ought to apply them to my own behaviour. Considering point number one – invest in quality – it defeats the purpose to fork out good money for something and then cheapen its lifespan by neglecting to maintain it.

So here’s what I plan to do. I’ll try to keep blades sharp. I actually manage to do this with knives and secateurs thanks to a small diamond sharpener, but I must admit that most of my large tools have never seen a file since the day of purchase. Sharpening would benefit both the tool and the user. I’ll also attempt to keep timber handles well seasoned. A quick sand followed by a coat or two of linseed oil remains as useful as ever. Finally, a regular spray of lubricant on moving parts will ensure tools operate beautifully for decades to come.

So thanks, Richard, for the inspiration. I’m off to the shed to start getting organised.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 24th April, 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – “Pa’s Fork”.

When it comes to Easter, who do you believe? If the hardware stores had their way, we’d all be stocking up on supplies for a four day burst of DIY. Believe the camping stores and we’d all be heading off to a national park or a beach for a four day “escape”. Believe the bottle shops and we’d all spend the long weekend on a bender. I sure as heck don’t believe the supermarkets, but if I did, I’d spend four days eating chocolate and hot cross buns.

Here’s what I believe: faith still has its place. For me Easter is, amongst the chocolate, camping, and DIY, a time to reflect upon the big issues. Chief amongst these are life and death. If this sounds dreadfully old fashioned, and more than a bit moribund on the second biggest holiday of the year, give me half a chance. Let’s make the connection with gardening. That is, after all, the topic of this column, so here goes. When you distil gardening down to its pure form, it’s not about plants or soil or beauty or nature. Strip all that stuff away, and gardening is essentially about the two biggies, life and death. Growth and decay.

At this point, I’m sure there are more than a few loyal readers reaching for the anti-ageing cream. It’s not hard to understand why – our culture is obsessed with youth. We’re terrified of decay and do almost anything, no matter how ridiculous, to avoid its inevitable conclusion. Hair gets dyed to rinse out the grey. Breasts get “enhanced” to resist the effects of gravity (good luck!). Food becomes a convenience remote from the reality that for human beings to eat, something that once lived must die. The concept of ageing gracefully has gone the way of the Tassie tiger.

Gardeners, however, are a wise lot and I’m hopeful that those of us who practice the ancient art know better. In the garden, decay isn’t something to be feared, but something to be celebrated as a part of the grand cycle of life. Plants grow, mature, decay, and then they die. Either that or they are eaten. When plants die or get eaten, they rot, and the process of decomposition forms humus, the building block of healthy soil. In turn, soil humus helps produce healthy plants, and so the cycle goes. Gardening is about life and death.

The early 20th century botanist Sir Albert Howard, one of the “fathers” of the organic farming movement, believed that the first principle of agriculture is that “there must always be a perfect balance between the processes of growth and the processes of decay.” The consequences of this balance, according to Howard, are “a living soil, abundant crops of good quality, and live stock which possess the bloom of health.”

Around the same time that Howard wrote these words, soil scientists found that they could effectively isolate the key elements in soil that nurture plants, namely nitrogen, potassium and phosphorous – NPK respectively. Once the three elements were identified, scientists were able to synthesise them. This was believed revolutionary at the time, in that the “problem” of soil fertility could now be solved by the mass production of synthetic fertilisers, rather than reliance on animal manures. Thus began modern industrial agriculture, and the NPK ratio can still be found on the back of every pack of commercially produced fertiliser.

For Howard the industrialisation of soil fertility more or less threw the balance of nature completely out of whack. Synthetic fertilisers could replace key elements in soil, but it couldn’t reinvigorate depleted topsoil and therefore violated the “Law of Returns”, Howard’s concept that what comes from the soil, must be returned to the soil to keep it healthy and productive.

I’d take this concept a step further by arguing that decay or death actually sustains, and gives meaning to, life. One can’t properly exist without the other, yet many households see decay as inconvenient, so they unwittingly break the cycle of nature by behaving as though death is absent from the equation. A prime example of this is when people put otherwise beautifully compostable plant waste in a green lidded wheelie bin that gets carted away once a week to become someone else’s problem. And pay for the privilege!

Compost your green waste, and return the black gold to the soil. Get some chooks and feed them kitchen scraps. Use their manure to feed some fruit trees, and complete the cycle by feeding any spoiled fruit to the chooks. There’s one sure way to affirm life this Easter, and that’s by accepting, and dare I say, celebrating death.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 3rd April, 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – Davidson Arboretum, Highfields.

If there’s one thing gardeners like to do when they’re not gardening, it’s to look at other people’s gardens. Give us half a chance and we’ll do so on the internet, in magazines, on the telly and in newspapers like this one. But the best way to look at a garden is to visit in person. Only then will you be able to experience the unique atmosphere, smell the scents, hear the sounds and get acquainted with the finer details that two dimensional images simply can’t convey.

Every year in our region, a handful of generous souls go out on a limb and open their gardens to the public. Most choose to do so under the banner of Australia’s Open Garden Scheme. Odds are you’ll have heard this term bandied around in gardening circles all the time, but how many actually know what the scheme is on about? Here’s a quick rundown, and a profile of three outstanding gardens opening this weekend.

Australia’s Open Gardens Scheme (AOGS) was founded in 1987. It’s a not-for-profit organisation with a mission to “promote the knowledge and pleasure of gardens and gardening across Australia.” To this end, it coordinates the opening of Australia’s most inspiring private gardens to the public, gardens that would otherwise remain cloaked behind hedges and fences.

A modest entry fee is charged when visiting an open garden. Thirty five percent of this is either returned to the garden owner, or more commonly donated by the garden owner to a favourite charity. Since the scheme’s inception, more than $4 million has been donated to charity. The remaining 65% goes toward running AOGS. Surplus funds available after the scheme’s operating costs are donated to various organisations via annual community grants.

A final word on etiquette. Remember that gardens opening as part of AOGS are generally private properties. Don’t enter the house unless invited, stick to the paths and don’t pick flowers or add to your seed collection. If you’re unsure of a plant name ask the owner for advice. It goes without saying that if you litter when visiting someone’s garden, or urinate in the shrubbery, you’re a total yobbo. Enjoy your visit with a sense of gratitude and respect.

Emaho

Nestled among the lush Ravensbourne countryside, Emaho welcomes visitors with a calm ambience and a subtle Asian influence. The owners of the garden, James and Barbara McGeoch, have had a long involvement in the Queensland horticulture industry, bringing decades of experience to bear in the creation of a working tree farm and garden that lives up to it’s Tibetan name – wonderful and amazing. Features include beautiful ‘Trompenburg’ maples, a Camellia sinensis hedge (tea plant), more than 5000 azaleas and a crabapple forest. The clumping bamboo windbreak is arguably the best example of its kind on the Downs.

Open October 10^th to 11^th from 10am to 4.30pm. Talks throughout the day, tree removal demonstrations, food and wine for sale. Located at 501 Ravensbourne Dip Road, Ravensbourne. Follow the signs from Esk-Hampton Road, directions from www.emahotrees.com.au. Entry $6, will benefit Peacehaven Botanic Park.

Ferguson Garden

Opening for the first time, the Ferguson Garden at Cabarlah is a family garden bursting with informal charm and expansive views over the Lockyer Valley.  Owners Simone and Matthew Ferguson reckon that any success in their garden is a “happy accident” but I’m not sure they give themselves enough credit. Their plants are healthy and despite the garden’s relaxed style, the borders are arranged with considerable skill. Perennials, clematis, Japanese maples, cherries and old favourites like delphinium and poppies make for a welcoming scene. Cottage style gardens are hard to do well, easily becoming finicky. Not the Ferguson garden – it fits like a well worn, but much loved pair of boots.

Open October 10^th to 11^th from 10am to 4.30pm, entry $6. Plants for sale. Located at 214 Happy Valley Road, Cabarlah. Follow the signs from the New England Highway.

Bass Garden

Geoffrey and Lynnette Bass’s garden at Pittsworth has opened regularly with AOGS and is always well received by both new and returning visitors alike. It flourishes despite the challenging Pittsworth climate, which is hot in summer and frosty in winter, and contains a mix of the familiar and unusual. Visitors will recognise David Austin roses for example, but plants like the lesser known Alister Clark roses and even variegated Jacarandas will arouse plenty of interest. Highlights include a stunning Petrea-draped walkway and an excellent vegie patch.

Opening in conjunction with the Pittsworth Craft and Fine Food Spectacular, including a quilt display. October 9^th to 11^th, 9am to dusk. Located at 4 Coop Street, Pittsworth. Entry $6, will benefit Careflight.

First published in The Chronicle 10th October 2009. Photos by Justin Russell.

First it was the Obamas. In March they ripped up a section of the White House lawn and planted an organic kitchen garden, the first of its kind since 1943 when Eleanor Roosevelt planted a Victory Garden in defiance of the US Department of Agriculture.

Then the Queen decided to join the Grow It Yourself revolution. Hers is a ten by eight metre “allotment” full of heirloom varieties with regal names like tomato Queen of Hearts and the beans Blue Queen and Royal Red. Like the Obamas, the Queen has eschewed the use of toxic chemicals, preferring home made compost and seaweed extract as fertilisers. It’s also the first vegetable garden at Buckingham Palace since World War II and though Her Majesty won’t don wellies and a scarf to work the garden personally, the vegetables are being harvested for use in the Palace kitchen.

Now it’s British Prime Minister Gordon Brown’s turn. He’s planted a garden at 10 Downing Street. Though it’s mostly tended by the Royal Parks Agency, Brown’s wife Sarah and their 5-year-old son John, are particularly relishing the opportunity to grow berries and tomatoes. The produce harvested from the garden is sold in Downing Street’s cafeteria.

But what about our own Prime Minister Kevin Rudd? Is he joining the Browns, Obamas, Queen Elizabeth II and thousands of Australians by ripping out a section of lawn at The Lodge and planting an organic vegetable patch? Vegie growing legend and 2009 Australian of the Year nominee Peter Cundall proposed the idea to Kevin Rudd personally back in January, suggesting that he was willing to help the PM establish a six bed rotational garden similar to Pete’s Patch in Hobart.

“I’m looking around and I can see lawn and rose bushes,” said Pete. “I said to Mr Rudd, ‘I can’t believe it. What a disgrace! Where’s your vegie patch?”

At the time, Mr and Mrs Rudd apparently expressed a keen interest in the project. Cundall said to the PM that he’d like to see him digging spuds. But the self described farmer’s son, who likes to remind us of his frugal, agrarian roots, has since scotched the idea, citing Canberra’s ongoing drought as making the project impractical.

Following the exchange between Pete and the PM in January, the campaign for a vegie garden at The Lodge has grown legs. A “Kev’s Patch” website has been set up with the tagline “C’mon Kev, plant some veg.” Renowned cook Stephanie Alexander has offered her support. She is on a mission to set up kitchen gardens in school playgrounds right across the country, and argues that “it would be a great model for the rest of the country if they did follow the Obamas’ example and create a show garden that could be seen by the public.”

Here are three simple reasons why Kev’s Patch is a great idea. For one, it sets an example to the Australian public, and example setting is the most potent aspect of leadership there is. In Peter Cundall’s words, The Lodge “becomes a famous garden. It publicises the urgent need for people to grow their own. Let everyone see what can be done and it will inspire them to do the same.”

Second, Kev’s Patch would help elevate the global food crisis to the prominent position it warrants. The industrial food system is under severe strain around the world, yet in our country, it’s an issue that tends to go largely un-noticed, at least until the price of your favourite brand of cheese jumps by 10 percent compared to last week. Lots of people are on the hunt for solutions, yet the silver bullet is right under our noses – Grow It Yourself (GIY). Kev’s Patch would send a powerful message.

Finally, Kev’s Patch could offer a model of practical sustainability. The Obamas and the Queen haven’t chosen to go organic for the feel good factor. They want their gardens to demonstrate that it’s genuinely feasible to grow at least some of your own food by means that are energy efficient, water wise, and free of toxic chemicals.

I’m not silly enough to seriously believe that Mr and Mrs Rudd will get out and work in the patch themselves. They’ll need helpers. But you watch the volunteers emerge from the woodwork if they decide to give it a go. This is a project whose time has come. So c’mon Kev, plant some veg.

For more info on the Kev’s Patch campaign visit www.kevspatch.wordpress.com.

First published in The Chronicle 8th August 2009. Image courtesy Downing Street.