Extreme weather always produces a botanical surprise packet or two. During the long drought, camellias surprised all and sundry with their ability to withstand persistent warm weather without much moisture around their roots. They may not have thrived, but most established camellias survived to tell the tale. A similar thing happened during last summer’s floods.
By January, the soil in my garden was completely sodden. Hampton is renowned for its deep, free draining soil, but the rain was so relentless over so many months that puddles had formed on the surface of the soil and, for the first time in my experience, were hanging around longer than a day or two. I expected the worst. I assumed there would be little chance that the various drought tolerant plants in my garden would survive the wet soil, and sure enough, many rotted away to a slimy mess.
Of all the plants that I expected to kick the bucket, lavender and rosemary were both at the top of the list. The theory goes that plants of a Mediterranean origin dislike an acid soil, loathe summer humidity, and absolutely abhor having wet feet. As if to prove the theory dead on target, a favourite ‘Tuscan Blue’ rosemary hedge slowly yellowed and died. I was certain the various lavender plants in my garden would do the same. But guess what? They lived. Every single one of them.
Some male gardeners think lavender is a poncey plant that should only be grown by women wearing pretty floral skirts. What rubbish! Lavender is beautiful to look at it, but in my experience it’s anything but some kind of delicate show pony. In fact, lavender has proven to be one of the toughest, most adaptable, and most reliable plants in my garden, and the fact that it survived the wettest summer for forty years only adds to its reputation.
I’ve got five different types of lavender growing in five different parts of the garden that differ markedly in their individual micro-climates. Out the front, there’s English lavender (Lavandula angustifolia) planted in a bed that is totally exposed to the elements. It’s thriving. In the cottage garden near the front door, there’s an Italian lavender (L. stoechas) planted next to a hot concrete path. Thriving. Out back, a Spanish lavender hedge (a different L. stoechas) is planted at the base of a west facing shed wall that gets loads of rain run-off. Thriving. In an east facing bed there are a couple of French lavender plants (L. dentata) growing at the base of a rock wall. Thriving.
I don’t do anything special to the plants. They receive no fertiliser or supplemental irrigation. I’ve never limed the soil where they are planted, or improved the texture. In fact the only care the plants receive is a light prune after flowering to promote another flush of flowers, plus a half yearly mulch of sugar cane to prevent weeds from taking hold. That’s it. I’m not some kind of plant magician relying on tricks to grow healthy plants, yet my lavender is doing brilliantly. If you fall for the lie that pretty plants are weak, and not worthy of a male gardener’s affection, you’re a fool.
Scientific evidence provides a clear indication that the climate in our part of the world is gradually becoming more extreme. The booms and the busts are getting more intense, and the oscillation between one extreme and the other, more violent. In response, we’re going to need to throw out the old rule book about what plants typically thrive in Toowoomba and the Downs, and replace it with a new plant palette that contains a mix of species tough enough to thrive in a wide range of conditions.
To do this we’ll need to get beyond the spoon fed mentality that plagues so much of our society, and get into the habit of closely observing our gardens, making notes (mental or otherwise) about the plants that seem to be big winners or epic losers in extreme weather events, and then share the information we collect with other gardens. Swap stories and cuttings over the back fence. Cook produce from top performing plants with family and friends. Inspire new gardeners with your passion for climate change ready plants.
Five years ago, I would have confidently predicted that camellias would struggle to survive the drought. In January I thought it was a dead-cert that my lavender would end up a victim of root rot. I was happily proven wrong on both counts. Plants never cease to amaze me, and in a future climate that’s bound to be more unpredictable than any of us has experienced, we’ll need all the surprise packets we can get our hands on.
First published in the Toowoomba Chronicle 19th November 2011. Photo by Justin Russell, French lavender.
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