We seem to have slipped gradually into summer this year, but with the official start of the wet season now begun, the question in the back of everyone’s mind concerns the weather. Will we get a repeat dose of January’s floods? The Bureau of Meteorology is predicting above average rainfall and below average maximum temperatures for summer, courtesy of a weak La Nina pattern, and the Queensland Government has reacted to the BOM outlook by releasing water from Wivenhoe Dam. USQ’s Professor Roger Stone suggests taking a “cautious approach” and being “very risk adverse”.

Considering the events of last summer, it’s excellent advice. But for vegie gardeners, Professor Stone’s suggestion is a tough pill to swallow. In our corner of the planet, the frost-free months from December to May are the most productive of the year for growing and harvesting food. We’re lucky enough to be able to grow lots during winter as well, but summer and autumn are seasons of abundance, and I’ll bet my house that nearly every vegie grower in Toowoomba and on the Downs will be sowing and tending and harvesting with abandon.

If the season does prove to be wetter than average, fungal disease will again become public enemy number one, just as it was last summer. Vulnerable plants, particularly those in the Solanaceae (tomato) and Cucurbitaceae (pumpkin) families, will benefit to some extent from fungicide sprays, but be wary of going overboard and always follow a couple of golden rules.

First, remember that fungicides work best as a preventative, so keep an eye on the weather outlook and apply them in advance of a wet spell. Second, use the least toxic chemical available to do the job. A simple spray made from one part full cream milk to five parts water will help control powdery mildew if applied every week. For other fungal diseases, spraying organically approved copper hydroxide or wettable sulphur is the best way to prevent infection. Be aware that any metal based product will persist in the soil, so use them wisely.

Besides keeping an eye out for fungus, the other issue that needs attention in a wet season is soil fertility. Heavy rain leaches nutrients from the soil, making them unavailable to plants. It’s up to gardeners, therefore, to replace what is lost from the soil so that vegetable plants can grow freely. The starting point for fertility in any season is compost. During wet weather, the black gold is even more important than usual because it adds nutrients, and by regulating fluctuations in moisture levels, keeps those nutrients in the soil. Compost also encourages beneficial fungi, which will help fight any soil borne diseases that may develop. So get composting! From a garden’s perspective, decomposed organic matter is the best Christmas present you can offer.

In addition to compost, you’ll probably need to throw around some fertiliser, and perhaps some minerals. As usual, my advice is to go for a fertiliser that not only feeds plants, but helps improve your soil. Pelletised chook manure, sold in brands such as Organic Xtra and Dynamic Lifter, is ideal. Rotted horse, sheep or cow manure is also good, but never use it fresh – a couple of months worth of decomposition is vital.

Lime any beds that need sweetening. Use dolomite on black soils, regular garden lime on red soils. Dolomite contains magnesium, but because red soils are often naturally high in magnesium, adding more will only make them stickier. And for a quick boost, give leafy greens a fortnightly application of liquid fish emulsion. Seaweed extract used every couple of weeks won’t go astray either, providing trace elements and helping plants better cope with stress.

The soil is now warm enough for all summer plants, even the real heat lovers like eggplants and watermelon. Tomatoes, capsicum, chillies, corn, bush beans, climbing beans, pumpkin, squash, zucchini, cucumber and basil, can all go in, along with most herbs and edible flowers. Leafy greens such as lettuce, pak choy, mizuna and rocket are also do-able, but might need some shade on the hottest days.

No doubt the big garden centres will be selling lots of seedlings out of season. My tip is to ignore their seasonless approach to gardening by growing vegies from seed. At this time of year germination is quick and reliable, plus you’ll save yourself a packet, by growing a packet…if you get my drift. Enjoy summer, fill the vegie garden, but don’t work too hard. Take some time with friends and family, and when the heat’s on (or the family gets under your skin), find a shady spot to have a kip, knock back a cold bevvy or two, and do nothing but watch the world drift by.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 3rd December 2011. Photo by Justin Russell, scarlet runner beans, Summerfield, Cabarlah.

Don’t forget to visit our new site The Radish, edible gardening from roots to fruits!!

What a run of magnificent winter weather we’ve just experienced. Frosty dawns and sunny afternoons are tonic for the soul as far as I’m concerned, and it seems the various fruit trees in my garden appreciate the weather just as much as I do. There are signs that my fruit trees are waking from their winter rest. Most notable are the buds. On some trees they are small and slender. On others, the pears and apples in particular, the buds grow fatter and more expectant by the day.

But hard won experience has taught me not to get fooled. It is, after all, barely the start of August. Officially, winter still has a month to run, and in some parts of the Downs, including my little cold pocket on the western fall of the Great Dividing Range, frost can settle on the ground well into October. My enthusiasm for the garden is swelling just as quickly as the buds on my trees, but I’m not quite ready to throw open the windows and embrace the wonders of spring.

Besides, there’s still a mountain of jobs to do in anticipation for the season to come. August is probably the busiest time of the year for food-centric gardeners like me, for the simple reason that if the preparation work isn’t done in earnest now, there will be slim pickings in the vegie garden until the summer crops get started in November. And if I can help it, I prefer to grow my own, rather than depend on the seasonless conveniences offered by the supermarkets.

Traditionally, the period from late winter to early summer was the leanest time of the year in cold climate gardens. People called it the “hungry gap”. It was a time when the stored surplus of autumn began to dwindle but the weather hadn’t thawed sufficiently for fresh produce to be ready to eat. Hunger, even starvation, was a very real possibility. This is why lent is celebrated during the northern hemisphere spring – the religious symbolism of fasting and suffering coincides with the reality of rarely filled bellies.

Thankfully, the situation isn’t quite as dire as it once was. Yes, I loathe the supermarkets, that much is obvious. And I’m very dubious about the perceived security of the modern food system. But compared to the average medieval peasant, or the modern day Somalian for that matter, we’ve got it very easy. The grocery shops offer a safety net that would be inconceivable to many, and our climate is, for the time being at least, conducive to growing a broad range of nutritious vegetables every month of the year.

So for me, it’s head down bum up for the next month, not so much in an effort to avoid the hungry gap, but to build a level of security and sheer deliciousness into my family life that no supermarket can ever begin to match. My Woolies…my big toe! I’ll tell you where my real loyalties lie, and that’s with my garden.

Top of my notepad titled “Jobs for August” is spuds. Some people ask me why I bother growing something so cheap and readily available in the shops. My answer, beside what I just wrote above, is that you must never have tasted a freshly dug spud. Tender, new potatoes bandicooted from the soil before the main crop is ready, are exceptionally flavoursome. I’ll always find some room for them in the garden. At the moment though, my seed potatoes are sitting on the kitchen bench waiting patiently for me to get them into the ground. They’ll go into well drained soil into which I’ve incorporated some compost and a generous scattering of pelletised poultry fertiliser.

Besides potatoes, my next priority is roots. Especially carrots. They are a nightly staple in our household, and the last of our autumn sowing was pulled from the ground this week. This time around I’m trying out an heirloom variety called ‘Danvers’ as well as my old favourite ‘Purple Dragon’, and unlike spuds, both will be sown into well dug soil that has no added compost or fertiliser. Carrots and parsnips prefer lean ground.

Finally, I’m going to sow a “catch crop” of leafy greens. Because greens are so fast growing they can be planted to catch the small window of opportunity that exists between late winter and the first plantings of summer ripening tomatoes, corn and beans in September and October. Rocket, mizuna, kale, Asian cabbage, and lettuce are all easy to start from either seed or seedlings and give quick results when speed is warranted.

There’s plenty to be done. And to be honest, after writing this week’s column I’m almost so keen to get into my vegie patch I could burst quicker than a plum blossom in September. It’s an exciting time of the year.

First published in The Toowoomba Chronicle 30th July 2011. Photo by Justin Russell, unfurling buds on an ornamental peach.

My neighbours must think I’m a right royal bludger sometimes. To the untrained eye, it looks like I’m spending lots of time in my garden at the moment just standing around, leaning against posts, daydreaming. Dedicated gardeners will know what’s actually going on. I’m prepared to admit to a healthy amount of daydreaming, but it’s certainly not daydreaming in vain. It’s based on careful observation over a long period of time, and is all about making a plan for the future that is more suited to where Kylie and I want to go as a family.

We purchased our property in April 2006. For the first couple of years after moving we didn’t do much to the garden other than plant new trees, make garden beds and start developing a rough layout for the design. We took note of the weather, learned where the frost bites hardest and the where winds are strongest. We experimented with various plants.  Some couldn’t cope with our cold winters and were replaced. Others were well chosen and have thrived.

We moved just as the drought was really starting to suck the land dry, and spent countless hours lugging watering cans around trying to keep newly established plants alive. Fast forward to 2011 and the cycle has come full circle – we’ve just witnessed the largest dump of rain in to fall on this property in 40 years. Plants that scoffed at the drought are dead or dying from too much wet. But my re-evaluation has more to it than the weather.  Our priorities have changed.

When Kylie and I moved to Hampton our dream was use our bit of land to develop a well designed, well maintained garden full of rare and interesting plants, a lot like many of the open gardens we’d been to. A vegie patch was high on the wish list, as were a few chooks and a couple of fruit trees, but we certainly didn’t plan for food growing to be the main event. It was only ever meant to be the supporting act to a beautiful ornamental garden. Food growing is now a serious passion.

So I’m seeing the floods as an opportunity for change. I’ve started conducting what you might call a “horticultural triage”, a process that identifies plants that are dead and need to be removed, those that might survive and could be re-established, and others that are simply the wrong plant in the wrong place and could either be moved during winter or given away.

To reflect our new priorities I want to make more room for edible plants. This means completely redesigning some garden beds, and will involve some fencing and hard landscaping. I’m keen to lose some lawn. Regular rainfall and warm weather equals rapidly growing kikuyu, and too much time is being spent taming it with the ride-on mower. So some grass either needs to be replaced, or handed over to some geese or sheep.

Drainage became an issue for me this summer, as it probably did for you. Until now my focus has been on retaining water on the property during the drought – now I need to find ways to get it off those parts of the garden that I now realise can be inundated. I’m attempting to do three things: divert and direct the flow of surface runoff with basic earth mounds and barriers; intercept surface water and drain it away from buildings and other sensitive areas using simple land drains; and re-contour some areas of the garden to work more with the natural slope of the land. There are hollows that need to be filled, and new hollows that need to be created.

The main thrust of my redesign, however, involves the plants I want to grow in my garden. Unlike five years ago, I’m now more interested in growing edible plants in ornamental ways than I am in growing ornamentals for the sake of ornamentation. So, I plan to make lots of direct swaps – a fruiting hedge in place of an ornamental hedge for example – and I’m determined to assemble a “future proof” plant palette. The flood has taught me that drought tolerance often doesn’t equate to wet tolerance, and I’m looking for plants that will cope with the intensifying booms and busts of our climate.

If you haven’t already tried this kind of analysis at your place, I’d say give it a try. There’s no point in resting on your laurels, unless of course, the laurel is big and strong enough to support the weight of a reflective gardener in search of solutions. For it’s only by self-reflection and honest appraisal that we can become better equipped to make the most of the little plots of land we call gardens.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 19th February 2011. Photo by Justin Russell – Ripening McIntosh apples.

I’ve had quite a few letters the last couple of weeks from readers concerned that a particular plant might be dying from the recent wet conditions. Catherine from Crow Nest wrote, for example, “After all the rain our apricot tree is looking very sad – its leaves are all brown. Is there anything we should do to ensure it doesn’t die?”

Considering we’ve spent the last decade getting used to gardening during drought, this is a very pertinent question. The weather has well and truly swung from hot and dry to the other extreme, cool and wet. As a consequence all the rules from the last 10 years are being rewritten as we come to grips with the fact that the Darling Downs is indeed on the fringe of the subtropics and as such, can experience very rainy summers. Our soils are now loaded with moisture, the water table is high enough to get springs popping up all over the place, and for some plants, the conditions have become very inhospitable.

The first sign that something is wrong with a plant during excessively wet conditions is usually wilting or yellowing leaves. It seems totally counterintuitive. You’d assume that when there’s so much moisture in the soil, plants will be lush and perky. But when soil becomes saturated, all the air pockets are removed and conditions become anaerobic. The consequence for some plants is that fine feeder roots are deprived of oxygen and start to rot, which shows up above ground in terms of damage to the plant foliage.

Some plants are adapted to wet conditions and can live in perennially wet soils. Some can survive short periods of inundation, and recover once soils start to “breathe”. Others absolutely hate having wet feet. In my garden there have been quite a few losses in the last two weeks, and some plants look like they’re teetering on the edge of oblivion. The worst of all have been silver or hairy foliaged plants. Artemisias, buddleias, salvias, gazanias, rosemaries, lepechinias, ceanothus, and arctotis – all of which are supremely drought tolerant – are either dead or dying.

As sad as it is, many will need to simply be ripped out and replaced. If the foliage of a plant has all gone brown and dropped, like Catherine’s apricot, try scratching away a layer of bark with a fingernail to see if there’s still living tissue. If the layer below the bark is bright green, the plant may well survive. If the scratch reveals a brown layer, the plant is probably dead. Give it a few weeks, and then send it to horticultural heaven. Choosing replacements will be tricky, because the new ideal for our climate is plants that can equally tolerate extreme wet and extreme dry. Ornamental grasses, sedges, cannas, rainforest margin plants, and agapanthus fit the bill, and our local plant palette will no doubt adapt as we get more familiar with boom and bust conditions.

For those plants in your garden that are teetering, perhaps with yellow or wilted leaves but some signs of life, there are a few actions you can take to help them recover. I’m forever saying it, but start by seeing this event as an exercise in patience. Give the soil time to drain naturally, perhaps scraping away mulch to allow sun and wind to aid in the drying process. Clay soils will take longer to dry than loamy soils.

As you’re waiting for the soil to dry, which could take weeks, try spraying plants with Yates Anti-Rot. This product is applied to the foliage and travels down through the plant’s vascular system to the roots. The active ingredient phospahric acid inhibits the growth of root rotting fungi such as phytophthora, and is particularly useful for treasured trees.

Once the soil becomes workable, there are three things you can do to help it recover from inundation. The first is to throw on a handful of lime per square metre. Waterlogged soils tend to become acidic, so a dressing of lime will help get the pH back into balance. Secondly, throw on a handful per square metre of blood and bone. This helps replace nutrients leached from the soil by heavy rain. Finally, incorporate some compost into garden beds. This will help get some oxygen back into the soil and provide a boost of beneficial micro-organisms.

All is not lost. Being a glass half full bloke, I’ve taken to wandering through the garden with fresh eyes. I’m planning to redesign some areas and as for the dying plants, no quarter will be given. They’ll be unceremoniously ripped out and replaced with something more appropriate to the booms and busts of our awe inspiring climate.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 29th January 2011. Photo by Justin Russell, apricot tree, Villa Vista, Killarney.

What a summer. As I write, another torrential downpour is passing over my garden and I’ve just received word that Toowoomba’s three dams are overflowing. This is tremendous news for us all, and a huge relief after the last decade of drought.

A combined dam level of 100 percent doesn’t come without cost, however. I’m conscious of those in Toowoomba, on the Downs and beyond whose lives, homes and businesses have been devastated by flood. In particular, I offer my sincere condolences to those of you who lost family and friends during Monday’s disaster.

I’m also thinking of the many farming families doing it tough. I was chatting to my wife’s cousin last weekend, who passed on the sad news that he’d heard of eight farmer suicides in the week prior. The devastation of losing a record crop to floods after enduring so many years of drought has simply been too much for some people to bear.

My hope is that as the floodwaters recede and the cleanup begins, everyone will come to see the silver lining. My wife will probably scoff at the idea, but I reckon an event like this is a bit like childbirth. After all the pain and suffering there is the most wonderful reward at the end – a precious new life. We can look forward to an explosion of life in the months ahead, so let’s endeavour to keep our spirits up, look out for our neighbours, and prepare for what should prove to be good years to come.

It almost seems trivial to be worried about gardening at the moment, but for many of us, the garden is a source of solace and provision. As soon as the opportunity arises, I’ll be outside making repairs, pottering about and preparing for the next big rain event. According to the BOM, La Nina is likely to persist until March or April, so there may be worse yet to come. Some plants and even entire gardens will be a write off, but there are a few key things we can do to limit the damage to our gardens by persistent moisture. Here’s what I’d be focussing on:

Soil protection

The most overlooked aspect of any flood is that massive amounts of topsoil are washed away in chocolate coloured creeks and rivers. Australian soils are at greater risk than most because they are geologically ancient and tend to be relatively thin, so anything you can do at home to keep the soil on your property is worthwhile. Vegetation cover is the best soil defence of all, but as an urgent stop gap, you should cover any exposed soil with mulch or weedmat. It’s also important not to dig wet soil. This can destroy the soil structure. Wait until the soil is just moist before you attempt any planting or cultivation.

Fungal diseases

A prolonged period of wet weather is the prefect breeding ground for all kinds of fungal diseases and rots. For the first time in my current garden nectarines and peaches have developed brown rot, which causes fruit to “mummify” and drop from the tree. Grapes and cucurbits have been badly hit by powdery mildew and the vegies are covered in all kinds of fungal problems.

Spraying at this point would be useless. Fungal sprays work best as a preventative, so there’s little I can do now except clean up and dispose of any infected fruit and leaves to avoid reinfection. Once there’s a week or two of dry weather predicted, it would be a good idea to spray with an organically approved fungicide to help control future outbreaks.

Drainage

Over the last few years we’ve all been planting drought tolerant plants that cope beautifully with the dry, but can suffer badly during prolonged wet weather. Humidity in the air is part of the problem, but the main issue is generally poorly drained soil. If the ground stays soggy for long enough plant roots suffocate and rot.

To avoid swamps forming in your garden it’s important to create adequate drainage. This is achieved partly by improving the porosity of the soil, and partly by directing surface water away from sensitive areas. Put on a raincoat and wander around outside during a downpour. You’ll quickly see where the problem areas are, and you can then dig drains or create small levees to direct the water where you do, and don’t, want it.

Hang in there everyone. It might be a rocky period ahead, but once the crisis is over, we can look forward to months and months of ideal gardening conditions. The soil will be moist, our dams and tanks will be full, and hopefully, the sun will shine bright and warm on our sodden gardens and rain soaked lives.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 15th January 2011. Image by Justin Russell, Thistlebrook sunset, Monday 10th January, 2011.

I never thought it could happen being located on the western fall of the Great Dividing Range at 750m above sea level, but we experienced some minor flooding here at Thistlebrook yesterday afternoon. The same intense downpour that caused flash flooding in Toowoomba swept through Hampton at about midday. Within 10 or 15 minutes water was running everywhere. It poured through the garden washing away paths, inundating nursery trees, flooding our sewerage system and turning our access road into a raging torrent.

After another heavy downpour early this morning the new creek at our front gate is still running strongly, and has carved some huge ruts in the road. If the rain eases we should be able to get our car out by tomorrow morning, but for now, we’re enjoying indoor pursuits and doing our best to keep the kids relatively sane. We offer our condolences to those who’ve lost family and friends Toowoomba and the Lockyer Valley, and our heartfelt sympathies to everyone who has lost homes and livelihoods. The silver lining is that after years of severe drought, the big local dams are full and we’re hopefully set up for some good years ahead.

Check out these photos from yesterday, when our road turned into a creek.

As I write this week’s Secret Garden, yet another stormy burst of rain is passing overhead and adding some more welcome moisture to the soil. What a month it’s been. Thanks to a La Nina event we’ve now recorded more than 170mm for September here at Thistlebrook. I’ve never seen the garden look so lush.

There’s something really special about the combination of fresh spring growth and consistent rainfall that we’re treated to very infrequently on the Downs. Early perennials are flowering beautifully, roses are producing a huge number of fat buds, and our fruit trees look set for a magnificent crop. Nothing beats regular rain. It’s fair to say that I’m absolutely revelling in the conditions.

This doesn’t mean I’ve been lulled into a false sense of security. Our weather seems to be getting more and more fickle, and last year’s dust storms bounce around in my head like a half remembered nightmare. Who knows what summer will bring. As for next spring – it might turn out worse than 2009. The point is that we can only roughly predict what the weather is going to be like in a month or two. Next spring is more of a punt than a prediction.

One of the things my Mum and Dad taught me was to be prudent, to try and exercise sound judgement in practical affairs. It’s an old fashioned word, prudence, but the virtue is as important as ever, and I think it applies perfectly to the situation we’re in at the moment with the weather.

Here’s how things stand from my point of view. We’ve had outstanding spring rainfall in most parts of the Downs, but does that mean the drought has broken? I’m not so sure. Toowoomba’s dams are currently only 20 percent full even with the Wivenhoe pipeline going full tilt and good rain in the catchments. I live opposite the headwaters of Merrit’s Creek, which flows into Cooby Creek, then into Lake Cooby, and I can assure you that despite 170mm and a wet soil profile, the creek is hardly running a banker. More like a trickle. The other telling point is in the four years we’ve been here, we’re still yet to break our average rainfall total for the year.

I’m optimistic that this will be the year, and my approach is a one of a glass half full, rather than half empty. But if we’re to be really prudent, we need to realise that we’re facing a future of extreme booms and busts. At the moment we’re in a boom. But you can guarantee that around the corner, whether it’s next month, next year or in ten years time, there’s going to be a bust.

This means it’s time to make hay while the sun shines, or in our case as gardeners, to get planting while the soil’s moist and the tanks are full. Normally, I shun spring as my main planting time but this year, I say go for it. Get them in the ground now and hold off on any supplemental watering until regular rainfall ceases. As a rough guide, an inch per week (approximately 25mm) is plenty to get plants well established. If it’s falling from the sky, be prudent, and save the rainwater for a dry spell.

When you’re planting container grown plants, don’t forget to add lots of organic matter to the soil as far ahead of time as possible. Homemade compost is ideal. Well rotted manure is excellent. Bagged compost from the nursery will do the job in a pinch. Whatever is available, get it in there and you’ll find that the soil soaks moisture up like a sponge and gradually releases it to developing roots as plants get established.

If you are wondering what to plant, two things that immediately spring to mind are shade trees, to help beat the heat when it’s hot and dry, and windbreaks. One of the major inhibitors to strong plant growth is wind. After last year’s string of north westerlies that blew directly from the desert for weeks on end, and carried some of the desert with them, it should have finally dawned on us all that the more we can create a sheltered microclimate, the better our plants will grow and the nicer the garden will be.

Finally a pat on the back – Downs gardeners have done really well with conserving water over the last few years. We’ve changed many outdated practices for good, and even now that restrictions have eased somewhat, we’re still only using around 120 litres per person per day. This is a great achievement. But let’s not rest on our laurels. Conditions can change quickly, and the time to plan for the bust is now, during a boom. It’s the only prudent thing to do.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 2nd October 2010. Photo by Justin Russell – Thistlebrook in spring.

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.

One of the more interesting questions I’ve received from a reader was a simple, one line note that read “From which direction does the frost come?”. On first glance I wondered whether it was a riddle or an odd joke. Did the answer have something to do with the magnetism of the earth or was it simply such a weird thing to ask that I ought to check the envelope for white powder before replying just as succinctly, “The Right”?

Then I stopped fooling around and actually thought about the question. Does frost come from a direction? It’s a fair enough thing to ask, and the answer, strangely enough, is both yes and no. Let me explain.

Whenever I’m asked to describe frost, I suggest that it’s the result of very cold air that behaves similar to a mass of treacle or honey moving across the landscape. There’s no way, of course, that frost comes from a point on the compass, and when I say it comes from The Right, I’m only having a lend. Besides, “frost” is only the visible ice crystals that form as a result of moisture being frozen by cold air, not the air itself. But when the reader’s question is taken literally, the answer is also literal.

Think about it. Cold air is denser than warm air. On clear, still nights during winter, warm air radiates away into the atmosphere, but the heavier, colder air descends and pools at ground level. It rolls down hills. Settles in hollows. Gets trapped against the base of walls and hedges. So, from which direction does the frost come? The answer’s clear: from above.

Now, for the heavenly minded among you, take heed. When I say “from above”, you shouldn’t get too excited. I’ve learnt from bitter experience that frost can wreak havoc in a poorly planned garden, causing one to hurl curses in the direction of hell. My garden experienced an ugly “black frost” in 2007 that saw the temperature drop to about minus ten. It froze the pipes solid for two days and burnt the foliage on 10 metre tall trees as effectively as the fires of Hades itself.

These days, I record every frost the garden experiences. I mark the date of the first and last frosts for the season, watch the weather forecast like a hawk, and measure the minimum temperature each night. I used to record all the details in my diary, but now it all goes into a notebook, alongside details about wind, rainfall and other tidbits about the garden.

This info has come in really handy. I know that our first frost can occur as early as Anzac Day, and the last can be as late as October. Summer vegies get planted later than they did in my Toowoomba garden as a result. I also know that we generally get about 40 frosts per year, about 20-30 of which are light (zero to minus three degrees), 10 are moderate (minus three to five) and a small number of which I categorise as heavy (lower than minus five). I figure that gardening has lots in common with farming, and no farmer worth his or her cabbages would be ignorant to the details of climate and weather.

All this talk about Hades and frost damage might give the impression that frost is some kind of malignant force. Sorry if I’ve given you the wrong impression. Now that I’ve learnt to choose hardy plants, I actually love frost. I welcome its arrival and mourn its passing. Why? The benefits of a good frost far outweigh any problems it might cause.

For one, there is the potential for pest control. A heavy frost is cold enough to kill some fungal spores, insect eggs, overwintering insects and even rodents, so it breaks the pest cycle better than any chemical. A good frost can also freeze moisture in the soil, helping to make it more workable.

And then, there is beauty. Find me a gardener hasn’t stood shivering but transfixed in the thin dawn light, taking in the sheer wonder of their otherwise boring garden transformed into a fantasy land of twinkling ice crystals. You know I’m not a raving fan of formal hedges and topiaries, but I am prepared to admit that nothing looks better on a frosty morning.

For what it’s worth, here’s my advice: use formal features judiciously when planning your garden, and spend the odd winter afternoon keeping them nicely trimmed. Then head inside, put a fresh log on the fire and pray that the morning brings temperatures below freezing point. Finally, the best advice of all: when dawn breaks, head outside in your bare feet, inhale deeply, and marvel at the wonder of frozen dew. Maybe frost does come from above, after all.

First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 5th June 2010. Photo courtesy Granite Belt Wine and Tourism Inc.

What was I saying last week about the weather getting odder by the day? This week has proven even odder than the last. Thirty degree temperatures in August has thrown lots of plants in my garden for a loop, not to mention the kids, who are arriving at the end of the day looking rosy cheeked and totally exhausted. Now I know why the buffer between winter and summer known as spring exists. It lets us all – plants and people – acclimatise.

Alas, there looks to be little acclimatising happening this year. I’m reluctant to be the bearer of bad tidings, but the BOM is predicting hotter and drier than average conditions for spring and summer. If you’ve got tank or bore water, now is the time to get new plants in the ground, before the worst of the hot dry weather really hits.

While you’re at it, why not consider some plants that produce blue flowers. Red and yellow pigments are common in the plant world, but blue is the rarest of them all. Most flowers described as blue are actually a shade of purple, or in the case of the inconceivably silly “blue” rose, more like a murky mauve. But get hold of a true blue flowering plant, and you’re guaranteed to enjoy a welcome splash of coolness in the middle of a hot summer, even if the cooling effect is psychological rather than physical.

At the moment I’m eagerly anticipating the first flowering of Ceanothus ‘Blue Pacific’. This is a cultivar of Californian lilac Kylie and I planted last autumn as a hedge, and beside its drought tolerance and resistance to wind, ‘Blue Pacific’ produces enormous panicles of flowers the colour of a clear September sky. More intensely blue is the dwarf cultivar Ceanothus ‘Blue Sapphire’, which has the added bonus of setting off its flowers against chocolate coloured leaves. Both are evergreen shrubs of the highest order.

If your soil is acidic, or you’re prepared to throw coffee grounds onto the soil, you’ll be able to grow one of the best blue flowering plants of all, Hydrangea macrophylla. This is one of those classic Toowoomba plants, and for good reason. Its blue flowers tone beautifully with lime green foliage, it flowers prolifically in tricky semi shade positions, the mop heads make excellent cut flowers, and not least, Hydrangea is a plant that exudes coolness.

In addition to a classic like hydrangea, lots of new plants are gaining popularity in the region’s gardens thanks to their reliability and drought tolerance. Salvias in particular are now a must have plant. Of the herbaceous types Salvia nemorosa ‘Blauhugel’ (syn. ‘Blue Hills’) produces the truest blue flowers, and makes a nice low filler plant at the front of a sunny border.

For genuine “blueness” though, it’s hard to go past the shrubby types. Salvia azurea is a superb variety, and really does bloom in an azure shade right through the late summer and autumn. It benefits from a haircut early in the growing season in order to avoid leggyness, but other than that, it’s a tough, yet ethereal plant. Another favourite of mine for a protected position is Salvia guaranitica ‘Black and Blue’, which produces unusual flowers coloured electric blue and inky black.

Let’s not overlook our native plants either. The Australian continent is home to some of the best blue flowering plants in the world, and one worthy of special attention is Lechenaultia biloba. Easily as stunning as the famed Himalayan Blue Poppy when in full bloom, Lechenaultia biloba is a low growing, semi-woody plant endemic to the south western corner of WA. It likes warm, dry conditions and most of all, perfect drainage. Because of this requirement it can be tricky to grow in our climate if planted directly in the ground so a better option is to try growing Lechenaultia in a deep, unglazed pot filled with a very free draining potting mix. Avoid wetting the foliage, and tip prune often to keep the luminescent flowers going right through spring into early summer.

Whether you use them in the garden as a “softener” between bolder plants, or plant them in great bluebell-like drifts for a sea of colour, blue flowering plants play an important role in the garden. If you’re like me and have been blessed with genes that make you sweat underwater, blue flowers are some of the most valued of them all. Green is lush, but blue is simply too cool for school.

First published in The Chronicle 29th August 2009. Image by Scott Zona via Wikimedia Commons.