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.

Unlike the gradual unfurling that takes place in southern Australia, spring in Toowoomba is irresistibly intense. One week everything remains snugly tucked away for winter, then the first bit of warmer weather hits and BANG, the whole city erupts into a spectacle of nature at its most exuberant.

This year the weather has been topsy-turvey. Warm weather arrived early with record maximums in August, then disappeared for a couple of weeks, so the whole spring show looks like it will be more fleeting than normal. My tip is to turn off the telly, de-park your backside from the sofa, and head outside for a healthy dose of vitamin D. It’s the diamond anniversary of the Carnival of Flowers. Let’s be proud of it. A visit to one of Toowoomba’s private display gardens or public parks is better than anything you’re likely to see on the box this September.

Laurel Bank is one of Toowoomba’s oldest public parks. It is the masterpiece of Samuel George Stephens, who owned the land, designed the park’s layout and donated it to the city in 1932. Mr Stephens was known locally as “the man of flowers” and his only proviso in donating the land was that it not be used as a sporting facility. Sure enough, the most strenuous activity within Laurel Bank is croquet and the odd game of park cricket. Come spring however, and the park erupts in a floral spectacular of which the man of flowers would be positively chuffed.

Alongside extensive bedding displays are magnificent cool climate trees like oaks, ginkgos and Japanese maples. In September they smother themselves with fresh lime foliage, setting off the formal displays of annuals, roses and perennials like delphinium and poppies. The park’s wisteria walk is absolutely magnificent in spring, while the Scented Gardens are a delight, featuring lavender, salvia, fennel and other aromatic plants. Laurel Bank is my favourite Toowoomba park.

The State Rose Garden in Newtown Park is one of the city’s relatively unknown gems. On the many occasions I get asked questions about roses, I generally suggest that people go and have a look at the varieties growing in the State Rose Garden. The response though is usually the same – “where’s that”. Situated on the eastern side of Newtown Park adjoining Holberton Street, the State Rose Garden features more than 1500 rose varieties carefully selected to match the Toowoomba climate.

There are lots of David Austins and hybrid teas, all laid out in a within box-edged beds, but my favourites are the old roses and these are well represented within the garden. Old teas and china roses do really well on the Downs, and two worth looking out for in the gardens are ‘Lady Hillingdon’, a tall voluptuous tea, and ‘Papa Hemeray’, a delightful little China. Also worth seeking out are ‘Carabella’ and ‘Titian’, bred in Toowoomba by the late rosarian Frank Reithmuller.

Queen’s Park Gardens in Lindsay Street can be rightly considered Toowoomba’s beating heart in spring. The gardens feature the most magnificent floral displays during Carnival week and are next door to the venue for the Flower, Food and Wine Festival. Of all the plants on display the absolute queen is the tulip. It’s interesting to see them planted amongst more untamed, wilder looking annuals like sweet peas. The combination of the tulip’s refined elegance and the heady scent and vigorous growth of the sweet pea is an energetic contrast.

Spring Bluff Railway Station, located just north of Toowoomba, is regarded as one of Australia’s most picturesque railway stations. When you visit it’s not hard to see why. The colonial buildings, old carriages and railway sidings lend a quaint charm to the place, and in spring the terraced gardens blaze with cheery colour.

There’s a long tradition of flower gardening at Spring Bluff. In 1914 Queensland Railways launched a competition to encourage railway staff to beautify the station and grow their own vegies. It seems that the idea stuck – a permanent gardener now lives in one of the cottages and spends the bulk of the year preparing the spring display. Annuals are the mainstay, though the gardens feature plenty of blossom trees like peaches and plums. The whole effect is quite magical.

So to the Carnival of Flowers I say happy 60^th birthday. Congratulations to all the professional and amateur gardeners alike who put in hours of work to make Toowoomba a sight for sore eyes every September, come drought and economic downturn, and long may the Carnival live. Spring is worth celebrating, and I can’t think of a better venue than Toowoomba’s parks and gardens.

First published in The Chronicle, 19th September 2009. Photo by Justin Russell.

The weather appears to be getting odder by the day. Yesterday, we had a warm day of persistent north-westerly winds, followed by an evening shower, which was in turn followed by a morning frost. It felt like winter suddenly morphed into summer, and then switched back to winter in the space of 24 hours. Generally speaking though (if it’s possible to generalise with the weather any more), an early spring is underway. It feels as though the sap isn’t just rising, but exploding.

My thoughts at this point in the seasonal cycle invariably turn to two of the year’s great delights: blossom and annuals. To me, these are the elements that make spring on the Downs such a joyous event. You’d have to be living under a rock to miss them. Blossom froths about all over the place like a happy giant bubble-bath. The annual displays, though on a smaller scale than they once were, are simply a joy to behold. My favourite local spring garden is the aptly named Spring Bluff. It always brings to mind images of a really loud plant party, and to me it’s so utterly joyous that I’d dare anyone to drive back up the range feeling gloomy.

For all their excitement though, annual “bedding displays” aren’t the most environmentally friendly form of gardening available. To produce a top flight display annual plants need regular feeding, and copious amounts of water. You can get away with less of each, but the display won’t be as spectacular, and to me the main reason for growing annuals is for a big bold splash of colour.

The other issue with traditional annual displays is that they require an inordinate amount of work. By the time you consider the soil preparation, the planting, the watering, the feeding, the weeding and the deadheading to prolong the flowering period, you’re looking at many, many hours of effort. Arch and Julie Roggeveen, whose Toowoomba garden has been crowned Carnival of Flowers Grand Champion on numerous occasions, once told me that they start working on their annuals in May, and by the time September rolls around, spend the evenings working under lights in order to get the garden ready for Carnival.

I’ve got no inclination to become a slave to my garden, but I love annuals, and spend the latter weeks of winter hungry for saturated colours. So what’s a bloke to do? Compromise, that’s what. I think I’ve found a way to enjoy a display of spring flowering annuals that is less extensive than those you might find in a show garden or at Spring Bluff, but still offers a welcome burst of spring cheer. The inspiration is the American landscape architect James van Sweden.

Van Sweden and his business partner Wolfgang Oehme have spent the last 30 years on a mission to remake the American garden. Their vision is one of refinement through reduction. Compared to conventional gardens, OVS gardens require less water, less chemicals and less maintenance. To achieve this they mimic the prairie landscapes of the American west, planting ornamental grasses and perennials in big drifts, avoiding the use of anything that needs excessive work. Lawns are a very minimal part of an Oehme/Van Sweden garden. Traditional displays of annual bedding plants are totally absent.

Instead, Oehme/Van Sweden display their annuals in large pots. Hardly seems revolutionary, I know, but their approach achieves a couple of things: reduced labour; and mobility. Unlike a fixed garden bed, it’s a simple enough exercise with all but the largest containers to pick them up, and move them to a more desirable location within the garden. This flexibility accommodates seasonal changes perfectly, and allows containers to be positioned for maximum impact.

The other thing that’s great about planting annuals in pots is the potential for creativity. There are endless combinations of plants and containers available, limited only by your imagination, and some stunning mixed displays can be created by combining annuals with foliage plants. When you get the combinations right, and position the container where it will form a distinct focal point, the impact can be far punchier than even the lairiest bedding display. Bedding displays have their place in public gardens. But if you’re pushed for time and space, you’ll achieve more for less by displaying your annuals in pots. Let your imagination run free.

First published in The Chronicle, 22nd August 2009. Photo by Justin Russell, Spring Bluff railway station

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.

When I started writing Secret Garden nearly three years ago, I naively assumed that ideas for the column would flow from my brain like water tumbling from a mountain spring. My wife, who is wiser than me by spades, warned me otherwise, and now three years in, the reality is proving to be closer to her vision than mine. Some weeks, in the dead of winter especially, the relatively simple task of putting together 700 or so coherent words looks nothing like a gushing stream and actually bears a much closer resemblance to a desperate man trying to get blood from a proverbial stone.

On days like this, the best remedy is to take a wander through the garden, camera in hand, in search of inspiration. It usually comes. Today though, I was in town until after dark and inspiration tends to be hard to come by when the lights are out. So for something different, I took a stroll through Queen’s Park Gardens in Lindsay Street, known for most of their history as the Botanic Gardens.

A couple of things struck me as soon as I stepped through the gate. One was how green the lawns were. At home, they’ve been burnt by frost, but here in Toowoomba’s east the lawns obviously stay lush during all but the coldest winters. The other aspect of the gardens that stood out was the trees. It’s easy to forget just how magnificent an ancient, massive Kauri Pine can be, or how much you want to peel the flaking bark of a naked River Birch. The oaks in particular were especially wonderful, turning their characteristic shades of paper-bag brown.

The real highlight though was the Camellia walk along the garden’s southern boundary. I wonder sometimes if the autumn blooming sasanquas are but a support act, intended to warm us up for the real stars of June – Camellia japonica. I absolutely love their large, glossy leaves, and to me, the huge plate-sized flowers in sumptuous shades of red, pink and crystalline white leaven the drabbest winter’s day. So I arrived at the park short of inspiration, and went home buzzing with enthusiasm for the camellias I’ve planted in my own garden.

As a species, Camellia japonica has given rise to a vast number of cultivars. More than 2000 in fact, so it’s always a slightly fraught exercise to start making recommendations. Rather than that, I’ll tell you about some of the camellias I’ve got growing my own garden, and some favourites from Queen’s Park Gardens and elsewhere.

My all time favourite japonica is ‘Nuccio’s Gem’. What a stunner! Featuring white, semi-double flowers more pure than the driven snow, and a growth habit that’s vigorous and upright, Nuccio’s Gem is one of those plants that begs for attention, but in the calmest, most enchanting voice imaginable. It’s a truly classy plant.

Then there’s ‘Great Eastern’. A magnificent testament to Australia’s long held fascination with the genus, there’s an old specimen in the grounds of Sydney’s Government House dating back to 1872. I’m a fan of red flowers, and to me, ‘Great Eastern’s’ contrast of rich crimson bloom and deep green leaf is nature at her painterly best.

Finally, I planted an unusual cultivar called ‘Courtesan’ just last month. This Australian bred japonica was named in honour of Marie Duplessis, a French prostitute who always wore a camellia in her hair and was immortalised by Alexandre Dumas in his novel The Lady of the Camellias. It’s a seedling of ‘Great Eastern’ with a twist, boasting pink and white striped flowers that offer a real lightness and energy to a dull, wintry corner of the garden.

My search for inspiration is over. At least for today. There are camellias to enjoy, and more to plant no doubt, and funnily enough, lots of other things in the garden suddenly screaming for attention as well. Isn’t it amazing how a dull time of the year can immediately be transformed into a thing of wonder and beauty courtesy of all things – plants. Thank goodness for Camellia japonica.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle July 4th 2009. Photo by Justin Russell.