Times a' changing

Should we ever misplace all our calendars, gardeners would always have a very good idea of what day it is simply by looking at what's happening out in their patch. Like this morning, when I wandered outside to discover that it's June right now! Surely. The first of the orchids are open, so it's the first half of June. They always open then. Alas, we're having a weirdo of a year as far as timings go, and things aren't happening when they should. (The fact it's also warm and sunny this morning should have been the big hint that it isn't really June, Jamie.)

Poor old regular readers of my blog. Every June I post a photo
of these cymbidium orchids, as a ceremony to mark the times.
Yet this year this orchid started blooming last week in fact, almost
a full month ahead of schedule.

Much better at time-keeping this year, our street
tree, a pink-flowering gum, Eucalyptus
leucoxylon var. 'Rosea' started its cool season
blooming right on schedule, in early April.
If all goes according to normal patterns (and
that's a big assumption) it should still be in
bloom, feeding the raucous lorikeets, wattlebirds
and clever little New Holland honeyeaters
in mid-September. What a tree!

Lots of other plants are having a weird year here. The frangipani, which should be dropping leaves now, is still full of leaf with a few flowers soldiering on. And the zygocactus (Schlumbergera), which always bursts into bloom in early May, is only now sending out its flower buds, and they'll be lucky to bloom before June arrives.

Of course, the answer to all this weirdness is the weather, as it always is. Summer saw all-time record high temperatures, while this May has been virtually devoid of rain, and we've also got close to Sydney's record for the number of consecutive days with temperatures above 20°C (68°F) for May, our last month of autumn here.

Not complaining, mind you. Wouldn't dare. Just observing!

Set and neglect

As soon as I typed in the 'Set and neglect' heading for this little post, I thought "I've used that one before". But it turns out that no, I haven't. Last time it was 'Set and forget', and the plant I blogged about on the previous occasion (also a succulent in a basket) is about three feet away from the one that is in bloom right now, pictured below, no thanks to me once again. I did nothing, your honour, and that's why it's happy.

Traaa daaa, the zygocactus is starting to bloom. Its other name is schlumbergera, but I prefer zygo.

You won't need sunglasses to cope with the dazzle, as there will only be a few flowers this year, but that's more flowers than I was expecting. Its parent was the poor old original zygo that we bought about 15 years ago. It lived out its average lifespan of a dozen or so years, and at the time it faded away I made a very poor job of striking new plants from leaf cuttings taken off the old one. I fussed over them, and they all died.

Well, almost all of them died. Just one cutting seemed to take, and so I changed tack. I decided that the problem was me, and if this plant was going to make it, all I needed to do was put it somewhere semi-shady (such under the evergreen shade of the olive tree) where natural rainfall would keep it just barely watered from the drip-drip off the olive leaves. Apart from that, all it needed from me was a steady course of neglect.

I hadn't bothered about the zygo for at least two years now. It's not out of sight by any means, as its basket swings around above the lid of the compost bin, a place I visit quite frequently, dedicated composter that I am. But I've never so much as looked at the zygo over countless visits to drop off yet another load of vegie scraps. Well, that is until about two weeks ago, when I spotted the unmistakable pinky-apricot hue of the first flower bud swelling up to size.

So now, what do I do? Of course, nothing! Keep on neglecting it and just hope it grows and grows over the coming years.

While I was taking a few photos of the flowers I remembered some great advice that Homer Simpson gave Bart one time, when Bart was disappointed after trying hard at something (for a change) and it didn't turn out well.

Homer: "You had a try and failed, Bart, and so the lesson is: don't try."

What a parent! He might be wrong most of the time, but when it comes to zygocactus culture here in my backyard, Homer was right.

Nanna's garden

Last Sunday I went over to pick up my wife Pam's mum, Val, to take her to a birthday celebration for one of her grandchildren on the other side of town. Though it was a grey and overcast afternoon, there was just enough light to take a few snaps, and so I thought for a change of pace, instead of blogging about my little patch, I'd celebrate Nanna's garden, and a very good garden it is, too. It's mostly a front garden, one which all the passers-by in her area enjoy every day.

Val loves to bring garden blooms indoors to pop into vases. This is a doddle to do in the warmer months, as her garden flowers prolifically, but in winter it's not so easy. So here's three cheers for camellias – the mainstays of so many winter gardens here in Sydney and elsewhere.

Val's garden provides a lot of pleasure to passers-by, as the street where she lives always seems to have someone walking past – commuters heading for the bus stop, elderly Chinese couples from the nearby new townhouse development getting some exercise, plus mums and dads walking the dog. There are lots of friendly calls of 'hello', 'hi' and 'how are you doing' exchanged around here.

Around the western side of the house, in a spot which gets full sun, this bed has been self-seeding itself for many years. In summer it's filled with colourful daisies of various sorts, plus succulents, pelargoniums, gazanias, chrysanthemums and a few other interlopers who've made a home for themselves there.

I think these dramatic, spiky plants are yuccas, and they say a lot about Val's willingness to try new things and see how they go. They're going OK, too!

At the back of Val's house the zygocactus are in bloom. These hardy plants, which are almost invariably grown in hanging baskets, flower here in May and June, and their colours are almost fluoro in their intensity. Val's favourite colour is a slightly more subdued salmon, but alas my photo of that one is a blurry travesty taken in too-low light, and so the best I can manage is this dazzling pink person.

There isn't just one basket of zygos at Val's. There are several, and in combination the effect is tropical in its intensity, a welcome burst of warmth in late autumn and early winter.

Out near the letterbox the last of the autumn daisies are still catching the sun. With a light clipping back they'll return next season.

Many of the beds at Val's are very easy-care, as they are based on succulents, whose foliage colour provides a year-round blend of fresh green, earthy red and bluish-grey.

The elderly Chinese couples passing by approve greatly of Val's long line of 'money trees' (Crassulas) as they are said to bring prosperity to the house and its occupants.

Foliage plays an especially important role in winter, when the flowers are not so plentiful. This sight out near the letterbox greets the postman every day.

And of course there are gnomes in Nanna's garden!

The reason I took my camera to Val's was a request from Pam to take some photos of the Japonica (the flowering quince) in bloom. Unfortunately I was too early and this was the sole flower I could find. These plants flower on bare stems in winter and look quite impressive for several weeks. They're an old-fashioned plant found in many Nannas' gardens, and Pam wants one. I don't have space for this size of shrub in my own garden and wondered how I could fit one in. Then I read that japonicas can make an excellent bonsai specimen, so that is a little assignment for me to add to my list.

And so that's a quick lap of Nanna's garden. There are all sorts of tired old jokes about mothers-in-law, but the fact is that Val and I are very good mates. We share a love of gardening – a love of Pam! – and a love of food, wine, movies, politics and art – but, alas, not the same music! She's a jazz fan from way back, yet she doesn't just listen to the old stuff. Her CD collection is full of young jazz musicians' work, and she's always keen on seeing live music when the chance arises.

She's an amazing person who does a huge amount of community work, and she's a living legend in her local arts scene. She knows more mayors, MPs and politicians than any other little old white-haired Nanna I've ever met, that's for sure. She's always complaining about how terrible it is to be the mother of children aged in their mid 50s, but the best thing about Val is her amazing zest for living. It's there in her personality, and it's there for all the world to see in her garden, too.