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.

Conifer. As one of the very few plants that I have a love/hate relationship with, the very word is full of mixed emotions for me. On the one hand, I find conifers beautifully evocative plants that can conjure up romantic images of Tuscan villas and alpine forests. The reverie lasts until I drive through a 1960’s Toowoomba subdivision and struggle to appreciate an endless parade of front gardens filled with little other than dwarf or clipped conifers. In this situation they look more like a nineteenth century funeral procession – stoic, dour, sombre.

What a shame we got such wonderful plants so badly wrong. Conifers have many overlooked virtues. They are supremely tough plants, thanks largely to their needle like foliage which limits moisture loss and resists drying winds. Many conifers are remarkably free from disease, and are little troubled by insect pests. They are some of the most widely distributed plants on earth, able to survive in all but the harshest climates and found on every continent.

From a garden design point of view, another virtue is their pyramidal or columnar growth patterns. Few plants have such a strikingly defined shape, which means that conifers are the perfect trees for situations requiring bold planting. The Italians got it right. They used fastigiate (upright) cypresses to strongly define entrances, line avenues, frame views and emphasise vertical elements like walls. In Aussie suburbia we’ve done weird things like give tall growing conifers “flat top” haircuts, or tie wires around the tree to constrict the foliage. Surely we’d be much better off working with a plant’s natural inclinations, or planting an alternative.

Though only about 600 species occur in the wild, there are literally hundreds of different conifers to choose from in cultivation. Some make the perfect, low maintenance groundcover, such as shore juniper, Juniperus conferta. Others make an excellent farm windbreak, such as Bhutan cypress, Cupressus torulosa. Other conifers produce edible nuts such as Pinus pinea, and lots make stunning specimen trees, such as the weeping Atlantic cedar, Cedrus atlantica ‘Glauca Pendula’.

Conifers range from dwarf shrubs less than a metre in height to 100 metre tall giants. Bearing this in mind, it almost goes without saying that wisdom should be exercised when choosing from such a diverse array of plants. My advice is to do some research. Use discretion. Don’t stick a Dawn Redwood in your courtyard, be careful in how you use gold and blue coloured conifers, and above all, try to avoid the “miniature Switzerland look”.

Gardens filled with little other than conifers became wildly popular during the suburban expansion of the 60’s and 70’s, particularly in highland areas like Toowoomba, where the reasoning seemed to be “mountain climate equals mountainesque landscaping”. To some extent this is correct, but Toowoomba is hardly the Swiss Alps. If you’re a collector, you’ll probably want to plant conifers like there’s no tomorrow, but most home gardeners will fare better with a mixed garden containing a range of different plants.

We shouldn’t overlook Australia’s native conifers either. I have a real soft spot for the Araucaria “pines” and their relatives. You only need to take a drive from the Bunya Mountains to Toowoomba via the New England Highway to realise that big, ancient trees like Araucaria bidwillii (Bunya pine), Araucaria cunninghamii (Hoop pine) and Agathis robusta (Kauri pine) thrive in the red soil country along the escarpment.

These stately conifers were once quite a common sight in suburban gardens throughout Toowoomba, but our modern obsession with health and safety has seen lots of domestic trees removed. I grew up with a massive Bunya pine in the backyard, so it always makes me a bit sad to see an arborist dangling from the top of a 20 metre tall specimen wielding a chainsaw. Lest a Bunya nut lands on someone’s head, another big old beauty bites the dust.

Well, stuff health and safety! Council will probably get their knickers in a knot but I say where there’s space, bring back the big native conifers. Not only did they provide welcome shade in a city rapidly looking like a tin roof jungle, but the old Bunyas, hoops and kauris helped define Toowoomba’s treasured Garden City identity. Let’s not forget how unique the Bunya is to our corner of the world. I think it should be celebrated as one of the city’s icons, and I’d love to see it planted appropriately, but happily, by all and sundry.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 10th July 2010. Photo by Justin Russell, “Blue Fir” Glenrock, Tenterfield.

You’d never guess it from the utter lack of publicity it’s received, but 2010 is officially the United Nations International Year of Biodiversity. The term “biodiversity” gets bandied around a lot these days (including in Secret Garden!), but what does it actually mean?

Simply put, biodiversity is short for “biological diversity”. It describes the total range of life-forms within a given ecosystem or biome, and suggests that the more biodiverse an ecosystem, the more resilient it is to disruption. In geographical terms, tropical biomes along the equator tend to be the most biodiverse on earth, while the poles tend to be the least biodiverse.

From my point of view as a passionate home gardener, biodiversity has three main implications – habitat creation/preservation, resistance to pests and disease, and conservation of genetic diversity. Let’s look at each of them in turn.

Habitat Creation/Preservation

We share our gardens with all kinds of life forms, from soil dwelling micro-organisms to native animals. As such, I believe we have a moral responsibility to preserve habitat for native species where it already exists, and where it doesn’t exist, to create new habitat.

Habitat creation isn’t too difficult. Mostly it involves a change of attitude that is more tolerant and inclusive of species other than Homo sapiens. Beyond that, it is largely about providing water, shelter and food for native animals by planting a diversity of species that are either indigenous to your area, or well suited to your particular climate. I’m not a native plant fanatic, favouring instead an eclectic garden full of plants from all over the world, but I do think it’s important to set aside at least part of the garden for “the birds”.

Resistance to Pests and Disease

The internationally renowned garden designer Paul Bangay, who was in Toowoomba last year, is famous for using a plant palette consisting of just a handful of species. In one of his books, he says that “I love those occasions when a site gives me the opportunity to use only two kinds of plant or even one, but lots of that one or two.” While Bangay’s gardens are undeniably elegant, his statements from a biodiversity point of view are way off the mark.

Let’s cut to the chase: the fewer the number of plant species within a garden, the more vulnerable it is to attack from every pest and disease under the sun. And as a consequence of limited diversity, the more necessary it is to drench the garden in chemicals to keep it healthy. If you want to reduce, or eliminate your use of toxic chemicals in the garden, the quickest way to shoot yourself in the foot is to “use only two kinds of plant or even one”. In agriculture, this would be called a monoculture. Biodiverse gardens comprised of many plant species are more likely to be healthy gardens.

Conserving Genetic Diversity

Consider, if you will, the humble spud. For centuries it has been one of the most important, and reliable, foodstuffs eaten by human beings, to the point that the International Potato Centre in Peru maintains a collection of about 5,000 individual varieties.

Now consider the Irish Potato Famine. By the mid 1800’s, the Irish had been growing the potato for more than 200 years. But due to a range of social and political factors, the lower classes of the population had become almost entirely dependant on the plant for food, with a single variety in particular dominating plantings across the country.

The Lumper tasted awful, but was nutritious and had the virtue of producing very heavy yields per acre. It’s major vice was that it was disease prone, and in the autumn of 1845, the fungal disease “late blight” wiped out the nations entire crop. Approximately one million people died from starvation and disease, a quarter of the population.

The moral of the story is simple, yet profound. Reduce genetic diversity far enough, and there’s a very real risk of starvation. Conversely, increase and preserve genetic diversity and food becomes more secure. It also becomes more democratic. The seed of heirloom varieties can be saved, and distributed to friends, increasing the gene pool even further.

I’d encourage each of you to celebrate the International Year of Biodiversity in your own backyard. Set aside a part of the garden where you can plant Australian natives to provide habitat. Rethink the minimalist approach to garden design in the light that the shelves in your garden shed will inevitably groan with poisons. Grow old fashioned fruit and vegetable varieties. Do your bit to preserve the genetic diversity of our food producing plants, and enjoy the myriad of flavours, colours, textures and origins as part of the bargain.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 19th June 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – Roberta’s Garden, Pittsworth.

A garden without wildlife is a garden without soul. I’m pretty sure this is a quote by someone famous, and though I can’t track down the author, it’s a mantra that I’ve been really keen on since I started gardening enthusiastically a decade ago. These days, I find it hard to imagine a garden without scurrying lizards and twittering birds. I’m not engaging in hyperbole to suggest that I’d be inclined to give up gardening altogether if I wasn’t able to share my patch of dirt with some friends in the animal kingdom. So long as they’re not pests.

In our previous Toowoomba garden there were feral birds galore. Indian Mynas were the main pest. These birds are highly intelligent, extremely territorial, and have the dubious distinction of being named one of the world’s top 100 invasive species and the Most Hated Pest in Australia. They are known as the flying cane toad, and in surveys are more loathed than foxes and feral cats.

Thank goodness there’s none here at Thistlebrook. In fact, since moving here three and half years ago, the one and only feral bird we’ve spotted on a single occasion was a pheasant. This bio-secure status hasn’t come about through any particular effort on our part – for some reason I’m yet to put my finger on the ferals just aren’t here.

What is here is a growing list of native bird species. There’s a colony of blue wrens that produce a new generation each spring, a family of willy wagtails, native swallows, finches, tawny frogmouths, various parrots and plenty of honeyeaters.  My favourites of the lot are the wrens. But the avian highlight of our time here was watching a soaring wedgetail eagle spot a rabbit in the neighbour’s paddock, then bomb dive from the thermals with all the daring of a kamikaze pilot. It was a thrilling sight that resulted one less bunny to ringbark my young fruit trees. Thanks Mr Wedgie.

Providing habitat for birds is basically the same as providing habitat for people. Like us, they have three main requirements: water, food, and shelter. Provide these in the garden, and it’s a case of “build it and they will come – birds will inevitably take up residence because they find the conditions habitable.

A water source can be as simple as a glazed terracotta saucer, topped up every day or two, or it can be as elaborate as a specially designed wildlife pond. Just make sure it’s permanent. I live opposite a creek, and though it’s mostly dry at the moment, the occasional pool provides year round water.

Food sources are a bit trickier, because different species have different needs. Wrens and wagtails are flycatchers who feed on small insects. That’s welcome, and easy enough to accommodate by avoiding the use of chemical insecticides. Let the birds do the work for you. Honeyeaters and other nectar feeders go for flowering plants like grevilleas and bottlebrushes. Finches prefer grass heads and seeds. The moral of the story is that if you want to attract a diverse range of birds, you’ll need to supply a diverse range of food plants.

Shelter is also easy enough to create, as long as you’re prepared to lighten up. In my view, very formal gardens such as those with a limited plant palette and a very tidy appearance aren’t overly friendly to anything but the garden owner. If you want to attract birds, it’s important to recognise the value in leaving some parts of the garden unkempt, for these are the areas that birds seem most attracted to. Consider planting a small meadow or woodland corner, and don’t clip everything to within an inch of its life. Give nature its head, at least to some extent.

In terms of plants, small birds such as wrens and finches like building their nests in dense, prickly shrubs because these give them protection from predators. The wrens in my garden nest in an old may bush, but I’ve also seen them in a Viburnum tinus and one year there was a nest in a small rose bush. Perhaps the best bird attracting shrubs of all are the grevilleas, especially the pricklier types like ‘Canberra Gem’ and ‘Robyn Gordon’. Parrots generally prefer to nest in hollows, while swallows for example make mud nests under the eaves of sheds. Create a range of shelters and nesting sites, and you’ll get to enjoy a diverse range of birdlife.

First published in The Chronicle 7th November 2009. Photo by Julian Robinson via flickr.com

What are trees worth? A few years ago I made enquiries on behalf of a client about removing a troublesome lillypilly from the footpath overhanging his driveway. Council wrote back stating that the tree was valued at around $15 thousand dollars, and that if removed, this figure would need to be renumerated to account for the loss of council’s asset. Fifteen grand for a common lillypilly that was obviously the wrong plant in the wrong place.

In complete contrast is the plan by the Queensland Department of Main Roads to widen the New England Highway between Hampton and Geham, and in the process, destroy scores of mature trees along a stretch known as Cathedral Drive. One of the icons of the former Crow’s Nest Shire, Cathedral Drive features widely in tourism campaigns for the area and takes its name from the cathedral like effect created by the blending canopies of towering, centuries old trees.

On misty mornings, the drive is haunting. In the late afternoon, light streams through the canopy like a massive stained glass window. What makes the drive unique and beautiful is its mature eucalypts. These aren’t ordinary, poorly positioned lillypillies. They’re tall forest trees, supported over hundreds of years by Hampton’s high rainfall and rich volcanic soil. Many are unusual. There are Sydney Blue Gums (Eucalyptus saligna) growing at the northern most extent of their range, New England Blackbutts (Eucalyptus montivaga), an uncommon species locally, Grey Gums (Eucalyptus biturbinata) and Stringy Barks (Eucalyptus eugenioides) that shoot bolt straight toward the sky for 30 metres or more.

But what value does Main Roads place on these trees? None, it would appear. A few weeks ago the surveyors went through and marked all those trees within a nine metre strip on either side of the road with a yellow dot. A tree that scores this dot is condemned, destined to be cut down, uprooted and chipped into mulch. Usually, trees slated for removal would have a pink ribbon tied around them, but in an apparent bid to subdue local concern, a less visible yellow dot was used instead. Main Roads denies they were being clandestine, but who are they kidding. Local activists have since attached pink ribbons, which gives a transparent reminder of the true extent of vegetation to be removed.

What the bureaucrats at Main Roads are yet to figure out, and are likely to never figure out is that the real value in old eucalypts like those forming Cathedral Drive is that they offer habitat. Not just to animals, some of which are rare, threatened and absolutely dependant upon mature trees for nesting sites, but habitat for people as well. Trees give us shade and shelter, food and clean air. They provide the timber for our homes and furniture. But they’re more than resources. Trees inspire us with their beauty and they gladden our hearts. You can’t put a price on that, and you’d be a fool to even try.

I’m not anti-development, and I’m pragmatic enough to realise that the road between Hampton and Toowoomba isn’t as safe as it could be. It needs upgrading. But I absolutely loathe development that’s unsympathetic to the environment, and will do my utmost to be a thorn in the side of those who show a blatant disregard for the culture, and values of a local community. I live at Hampton. My family travels on the New England Highway most days of the week, and as such, I have a vested interest in driving my kids along a safe road. But to arbitrarily remove hundred year old trees based on a plan drawn up from the comfort of a desk in downtown Toowoomba is a notion that I, and my kids, find abhorrent.

America’s most revered farmer-poet, Wendell Berry, wrote the following words 40 years ago: “There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.” Like the religious buildings that are its namesake, Cathedral Drive is a sacred place to my family, and to lots of other residents in the Hampton area. The trees matter to us. They have inestimable value. What I wish Main Roads would understand is that when nothing is valued everything is destined to be wasted.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 18th July 2009. Photo by Justin Russell.

There are occasions in the garden when you want to cover the largest area of ground possible with the least amount of mucking around. When I was designing gardens for a living this situation occurred a lot, since I was often asked to draw up plans for new properties built either on top of a hill, or more problematically, cut into the side of one. One job in particular was memorable. The house had been built at the bottom of the tallest “battered bank” I’ve ever seen. It would have been at least 15m in vertical height, west facing, and battered at an angle of about 30 degrees. That’s a daunting amount of bank. It’s also a lot of bare subsoil on which to grow anything other than a weed.

Even though the clients weren’t raving fans of native plants, I found it really hard to overlook some of the groundcover grevilleas. The older cultivar ‘Poorinda Royal Mantle’ was my go to plant, and as far as I’m concerned, remains the pick of the lot for difficult slopes. It might be 50 years old, but continues to set the standard in terms of drought tolerance, frost tolerance, speed of growth and reliability. It’s also exceptional value for money. A single plant can cover an area of more than five metres in diameter. Plus, it’s pretty to boot.

Another standby that made its way on to the planting plan was Grevillea ‘Bronze Rambler’. This cultivar is slightly taller growing and more layered than the carpet like ‘Royal Mantle’, but in my experience it is just as tough and proves highly attractive to small birds, who use the prickly foliage for protection. ‘Gin Gin Gem’ was a third cultivar that made the cut, thanks largely to beautiful foliage that cascades down a bank like a set of green waves.

Exotics too worked well. Juniperus conferta, or shore juniper, is an outstanding plant in many regards. I love the fact that it blends really nicely with native plants, but probably exceeds many of them in terms of toughness. It is pretty much bomb proof. Hence the reason you see shore juniper in another really tough environment – the dreaded shopping centre carpark. Here, you might find it growing alongside another old toughie, Chinese star jasmine. Featuring one of the trickiest botanical names in the book, Trachelospermum jasminoides is commonly grown as a climber, but works equally well as a ground cover or even a low, table-like hedge.

There are other situations though when you need a plant that will cover a smallish area of ground to prevent weed growth or just to act as an attractive filler between bolder, more architectural plants. This is where some of the spreading clumpers (for want of a better term) come into their own.

The Toowoomba violet, Viola odorata, is as good as anything in a semi-shaded position, filling the air with it’s sweetly scented perfume in early spring. Its native cousin Viola hederacea doesn’t have the same perfume but is also an excellent plant. I once saw a big clump growing beautifully on the Springbrook plateau and after arriving home, raced out to the nursery and bought enough plants to cover the ground beneath a young camellia hedge. It worked beautifully, doing exactly what I wanted it to do – suppress weeds but in a much more attractive way than boring old mulch.

Another ground cover plant that takes my fancy is Ajuga, commonly known as bugle weed. With sufficient moisture it will grow in everything from full shade to full sun, and it will spread quite quickly to cover a decent sized area. Carolyn Robinson has used it extensively as a ground cover at Glenrock, her magnificent garden just across the border at Tenterfield. A range of cultivars exist, including ‘Jungle Beauty’ and ‘Catlin’s Giant’, and like the violets, there’s a native species – Ajuga australis.

For something a bit different but very effective as a ground cover amongst cottage-type plants I’m a big fan of some culinary herbs. Oregano in particular is really tough and will happily scramble between larger plants without overtaking them. Thyme is also good, as is common sage, salvia officinalis. The variegated cultivars, alternatively coloured purple or yellow, make a nice contrast between flowering plants and will cope with particularly hot and dry conditions.

The next time you build a house on a hill, or buy a place with steep banks, or simply want to fill in some gaps, forget about using the strappy leaved plants that are in vogue with the modern landscaping crews. Like a two-wheel-drive vehicle on a bush track, “strappies” can only achieve so much. Go for proper groundcover plants instead. They’re absolutely made for the job.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 30th May 2009. Photo by Allison Steiglitz.

It’s boom times for gardening on the box. In contrast to the recent dearth of garden related programmes, we’ve now got a few to choose from, and hopefully, there’s more on the way. For the funky urban gardener who dislikes Toowoomba’s roundabouts as much as I do, there is Guerilla Gardeners. It’s all a bit staged and not really in the spirit of the guerrilla gardening movement, but interesting enough.

Then there’s the old staples, Better Homes and Gardens, which I find cheesy to the core, and my favourite, Gardening Australia. I was interested to see how Aunty was going to handle the departure of “Pete”, and though Stephen Ryan seems a bit stilted and plant obsessed, he’s making a reasonable fist of it. The show itself remains great, offering a nice mix of earthiness, practicality, and haul your backside off the sofa motivation. And yes, my kids still do a little dance when the theme music kicks in.

But for pure inspiration, it’s impossible to overlook a new 10-part series on ABC1 titled Around the World in 80 Gardens. Presented by English garden writer Monty Don, this beautifully filmed programme is part travelogue, part cultural exploration, and part horticultural odyssey. Every continent excluding Antarctica is visited and literally 80 individual gardens are featured in some depth.

I ought to confess that I’m a fan of Monty Don. He’s my favourite garden writer, and as a presenter, I reckon he shares Peter Cundall’s enthusiasm for gardening and life, albeit with a more erudite turn of phrase. So it should come as no surprise that Around the World in 80 Gardens has me absolutely hooked, and though the series or Monty isn’t without fault, it is surely one of the most fascinating gardening shows ever to grace the small screen.

The reason I’ve enjoyed it so much is largely due to Monty’s premise behind the series. He sets out to learn about a country’s culture through its gardens. This reflects his philosophy that a garden is made by a person (or persons), and it follows that the most interesting thing about a garden is its creator, not the plants within it. This is a hard pill to swallow for a plant nut like me, but Monty’s right – gardens are social and cultural constructs – and the best aren’t necessarily those that are technically brilliant, but those that clearly reflect the personalities and beliefs of their creators.

My interest was really piqued by last week’s episode. Monty visited Australia. I’ve got no idea how he chose the gardens to be featured, but Mr Don toured Kennerton Green, Vladimir Sitta’s modernist Sydney garden, Alice Springs Desert Park and Cruden Farm among others. Judging from his commentary, Monty came in search of the genuine Australian garden, but I got the sense that he went away a bit mystified.

He found Kennerton Green beautiful, but felt that it resembled a typical English country garden. At Cruden Farm he was charmed by Dame Elisabeth Murdoch, but he seemed fairly nonplussed by the angular and confronting Sitta garden. The garden that got him most enthused was The Garden Vineyard on the Mornington Peninsula. Monty particularly appreciated the combination of plants, and was especially taken by the formal treatment of Australian natives.

What I found most fascinating about the show was that in essence, it was an appraisal of Australian gardening from an outsider’s perspective. The verdict: though Monty’s visit was limited in scope, I’m not sure that we came off all that well. I got the impression that Monty perceived Australian gardening culture as a bit juvenile, still yearning for the green fields of the mother country and afraid to grow up.

Is he right? Do we still garden like we live in England? Do we kid ourselves into believing that ours isn’t a changing climate ravaged by a decade of drought? Do we use native plants well, or is our default style one of “the bush in my backyard”?  And the big kahuna, should our gardens be created as imitations of nature or is it okay that they exist as creations in their own right?

I for one hope Monty keeps the big questions flowing. Around the World in 80 Gardens makes very worthwhile viewing, and serves as a reminder that though we live in challenging times, the answer to many of the big issues can be found right under our nose – in the garden.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle, 2nd May 2009. Photo of Kennerton Green by Allison Green via flickr.

“Why wouldn’t you celebrate? Look at what this country’s got. Nice weather and nobody’s shooting at you.”

- Ronnie Tait, Australia Day reveller

While I agree that it’s nice not to get shot at, I dare say that there’s a bit more to it than that Ronnie. Despite our past and current shortcomings, and a remorseless pounding in the cricket, we do have plenty to celebrate on Australia Day beyond freedom and the weather. One of those things is our fauna and flora.

Despite their bizarre absence from the grounds of Parliament House, Australia’s plants are unique, diverse and resilient. They are survivors, supremely adapted to the wide variety of ecosystems found on our continent, but let’s not kid ourselves. Not every native plant is going to work in the average Darling Downs backyard. Thankfully, there are plenty that will, and those gardenworthy specimens got me started in garden writing a decade ago. I owe them in a way, so here are half a dozen that continue to be firm favourites.

Acacia cognata ‘Limelight’

When I hear the word texture in relation to plants, I can’t help but think of Acacia ‘Limelight’. This dwarf form of the river wattle is like a soft, billowing green cloud. It is perfect for positions where it can overhang, and is a great plant for softening retaining walls or planting around naturalistic water features. One of the toughest and most treasured plants in my garden, it will handle severe drought, but needs some shelter from really hard frosts.

Lomandra ‘Tanika’

Strappy plants have been seriously overused in my opinion. I cringe every time I drive past a new carpark filled with a mix of Dianellas and Lomandras, both of which are landscaper favourites. While strappies are low maintenance plants, the less creative landscapers wouldn’t know a Mat Rush from a doormat, and some new cultivars aren’t all they’re cracked up to be. Lomandra ‘Tanika’ on the other hand, is one of the best natives to be bred in the last decade. Thanks to fine lime green foliage that’s more elegant than most, Tanika makes an excellent filler plant between bigger shrubs and perennials.

Westringia ‘Wynyabbie Gem’

As a native alternative to rosemary, Westringia is the plant to choose. It is frost and drought tolerant, and has a bushy growth habit ideal for clipped, formal hedges, though it works equally well as a specimen in mixed borders. The cultivar ‘Wynyabbie Gem’ is a hybrid between W. fruticosa and W. eremicola produced by Wynyabbie Nursery in Jindalee. A word of caution though – Wynyabbie Gem is a quick grower. Left unchecked it will reach about two metres, so keep it bushy through regular clipping.

Corymbia ‘Summer Red’

We all love to hate gum trees don’t we? They’re big, they’re messy, they drop limbs. But some, like the hybrid bloodwood Corymbia ‘Summer Red’ are absolutely exquisite garden plants. When in full bloom around Christmas or the New Year, ‘Summer Red’ is one of those plants that will take your breath away, but I like it for subtler reasons as well. For one, it only grows to around six metres, isn’t anywhere near as messy as most gums, and produces beautiful flushes of new foliage in lime green and scarlet. Because it is grafted onto a variety of rootstocks, ‘Summer Red’ and its cousins will suit most soils across the Downs.

Grevillea ‘Moonlight’

Do you ever wander through your garden on moonlit evenings? If you do, and don’t yet grow Grevillea ‘Moonlight’, you don’t know what you’re missing. Huge creamy lemon flowers are produced for much of the year, and set off by the bottle green foliage during a full moon, they actually do glow. ‘Moonlight’ is a vigorous grower to at least three metres, and is often used as a screening plant or pruned to form a small tree. Birds love the flowers, it resists drought, and will take light frost. Grevillea ‘Moonlight’ is one of my favourite plants, native or otherwise.

Syzygium ‘Cascade’

There are lots, but I regard Syzygium ‘Cascade’ as the best of all the lillypillies. Cascade has an elegant weeping habit, which makes a nice change from the many upright cultivars designed to hide the neighbours in record time. The new foliage is a terrific wine red, the flowers puffy pink, and it will cope with light frost and mild drought. A final important attribute is that Cascade is unaffected by psyllids, which disfigure the leaves of many lillypillies. Cascade is a top plant.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 31st January 2009