Of gardens great and small

When asked recently how long I had been writing garden features for the Otago Daily Times, I said, "It must be 10 years or so."

 

When I checked it was more than 21 years, as my first ODT gardening article was published in July 2003.

 

Now I have decided it's time to put away my shorthand pad and camera (these days my phone).

 

There is still plenty I could write about, but at 81 feel it's time to move aside.

 

It's interesting to look back and see what I mentioned in that first story.

 

I urged people to buy roses and praised "Fourth of July", a climbing floribunda with clusters of single red and white striped flowers, but was unimpressed with "Scentasia", describing it and its blooms as "a dull white rose with lemon centres that has nothing to recommend it".

 

Cringingly bad grammar, I confess, but you get the sentiment.

 

Since then, I've written some 600 garden features, met numerous great gardeners and visited many impressive properties in New Zealand and overseas.

 

In England, my best garden experience was Sissinghurst, mainly because I stuffed up completely.

 

My brochure was old, the garden hours had changed and I didn't check in advance, so my daughter and I arrived to find the garden deserted except for a small group of painters and photographers who each had paid, I recall, 200 (about $NZ400 then) to have Sissinghurst to themselves for the day.

 

The extremely kind head gardener told us to return at 5pm to see the garden when the others had gone. 

 

It was a magical experience, no-one else around.

 

I channelled my inner Vita Sackville-West and absorbed the atmosphere she had created.

 

I've never succumbed to the temptation to return, as nothing could measure up to that late summer experience.

 

Maybe I am small-minded, but overall the vast parks of the great British estates and European chateaux have excited me somewhat less than smaller gardens, the exquisite gems that showcase the owners' passion for plants.

 

Helen Dillon's Dublin garden springs to mind, as does Gravetye Manor, the Sussex garden created by William Robinson (1838-1935), and the Garden of the Sleeping Giant, actor Raymond Burr's orchid-dominated retreat in Fiji.

 

Then in Suzhou, Southern China, there is the 0.6ha Wang Shi Yuan (the Master of the Nets garden) on which Dunedin's Lan Yuan is modelled.

 

Dunedin's garden has one big advantage over its Chinese counterpart, in that visitors to the latter are crammed in so tightly that it's difficult to appreciate Wang Shi Yuan's design.

 

And there's none of the tranquillity its 12th-century designer envisaged.

 

Don't let anyone tell you otherwise: New Zealand has gardens that are up there with the world's best.

 

That is remarkable, given how youthful they are compared with the northern hemisphere and even Australia.

 

Alan Trott's Ashburton garden, Broadfield near Rolleston and Southland's Maple Glen all stand out, but there are dozens of others that would impress anyone from the rest of the world.

 

For Kiwi ingenuity, the Lignite Pit, 23km from Invercargill, stood out for the way a rubbish pit was converted into a dark-themed garden, complete with black swans and ducks.

 

Gardeners are generous people and have given me so much time over the years.

 

I am especially grateful to the late Les Cleveland, of Dunedin, who patiently explained his hybridising work in so many fields; to Denis Hughes, of Blue Mountain Nurseries, for enlightening me about the many natives (including Pseudowintera "Red Leopard") and rhododendrons he has introduced; and to the late Sam McGredy, rose breeder extraordinaire, for entertaining me with scurrilous tales of other luminaries in the rose world.

 

Not all plant breeders are professionals. Dawn and George Agnew, of Mosgiel, have bred some lovely roses, including "Julia's Baby", while others I've met have developed their own carrots and cabbages.

 

Amateur landscape designers abound, their skills consistently impressive. Quirky touches abound, too, like the Dunedin garden whose owners recycled a tuba as a bird feeder.

 

A bonus has been learning from so many gardeners and nursery owners about plants, products, landscaping and growing techniques, as well as developing my photography skills.

 

Growing different plants and varieties so I could report on them, or just for my own pleasure, has broadened my knowledge, too.

 

Strangely, I have been asked at times whether I have my own garden.

 

That puzzles me, as I can't imagine being able to write, or talk about, something if I haven't grown it or at least its rellies.

 

Having started gardening when I was 4, growing purple sweet peas in a corner of my parents' vegetable garden in Heriot, I've never stopped.

 

Incidentally, the netting to keep out the rabbits was perfect for my flowers to climb.

 

I will always be grateful for the assignment given by Sir Julian Smith to edit the centennial edition of The Star Garden Book.

 

The original book, commissioned by Sir Julian's grandfather C. Stanley Smith, and published in 1911, arose from The Evening Star columns of Harry Clarke, an English-trained gardener who arrived in Port Chalmers in 1872.

 

One of the joys of working on the book was learning about Clarke, an accomplished hybridiser of plants as varied as potatoes and pelargoniums.

 

A particular delight was visiting Hartwell House, in Hertfordshire, where he had trained and being taken around by the head gardener, who kept referring to "your Harry".

 

Editing and updating The Star Garden Book took me all one winter.

 

I sat in bed on cold mornings, laptop on my knees, surrounded by reference books and pages of notes. (No room for husband or cat!)

 

When the writing was done, my husband Geoffrey laid out the pages for the new-look book and he would send me off to find a better photo of, say, a poppy.

 

Happily, it all came together the way I envisaged and Sir Julian, who still has his grandfather's 1912 Star Garden Book, entered into the spirit of things by donning gumboots and waving a rake to publicise the new edition.

 

An unexpected side effect was being asked to speak at garden clubs.

 

I've never kept track of how many talks I've given but my final one was six weeks ago, when I spoke at an Otago-wide gathering of garden-club members on plants that once were widely grown and have now almost disappeared.

 

Of course there have been mistakes.

 

I once photographed a camellia in Auckland's Eden Garden, carefully noted the label details and after the photo was published learned that the name was not of the camellia but that of the person in whose memory it had been planted.

 

There are many great moments to look back on, but for humour, though, nothing beats illustrations editor Stephen Jaquiery's photo of me holding a carefully positioned bunch of flowers to publicise Naked Garden Day.

 

I have enjoyed writing the stories and the feedback from ODT readers has been almost unfailingly positive and I am appreciative of their loyalty.

 

Thank you, ODT readers and staff. May you have a blessed Christmas and a fruitful 2025. 

 

gilliannvine@gmail.com