Schizophrenic sans paranoia

My courtyard is bordering on the split personality: on the one hand, I want it to be productive; yet, on the other, I want it to provide sheer beauty, and tumbling variety. As you know, it is not large, although it is large in context. I cannot think of another apartment which has as much outdoor space as it has indoor space. That is one of the reasons I am paying a kings-ransom I suppose. And I hav just signed on for a two-year lease. But it is everything I could wish for. I need my feet on terra-firma. I like to think that my cat's have an outside available, even though the lazy blighters do not use in anything like as much as they should. Except for Cooper, who is making up for lost ground.

I was going to show you the black bins in which I am growing veggies. You can sort of see it in the shot showing the rhubarb and the capsicum. I need to keep the water AND the fertiliser up to these bins, as most veggies are gross feeders. I will learn from this year for next.

Next week I shall endeavour to show you a long shot, from above, to enable you to orient yourself. Today's shots were taken after the first wave of storm activity. In the first grouping we have Russian-Red tomatoes, then Black-Jack zucchinis. Below them, there is the rhubarb and the (red) capsicum on the left, and a couple of strawberries on the right. Don't know what sort of strawberries. Sorry.

In the second grouping we have Corn-flower blue Lobelias, together with a tumblng succulent. Beside them there is the staghorn and the fig, both of which are flourishing. The staghorn is particularly partial to diced banana skins. Following this are two shots of assorted succulents. I like succulents as they are easy to progagate making them cheap, and they can survive in small pots.

Small garden produce

Looking at my previous post of flourishing figs, I am so envious of my last year's ability! My figs are nowhere near this standard, at this stage. Shall have to feed them up, like a little Chinese boy at a banquet being feted by his grand-mama!

Here is an introduction to my productive handkerchief garden. At the top, we have rhubarb, which takes three seasons to stop being quite so bitter. Then I have the Blackjack Zucchini. I love them simply fried in butter and with ground black pepper. And finally, my lettuce. I think a variety of Butter Lettuce. I have 6 plants and really only need 3. I reckon they orta sell a punnet of mixed lettuce, just like in the stores where they sell the mixed leaf!

All this is in black recycling tubs. Show you in my next post.

Utility vs beauty

Swirling through the ether, the mantra is 'think global, act local'. I struggle to understand the emotions of standing in a large barn of an assembly hall whilst a voice booms over a PA '64 Sanderson Road - 100% destroyed'. I likewise struggle with how people can cope with the stench of river mud through 100% of their house, or lying for weeks through their paddocks. Or their house blown 100m up the road and all their possessions scattered. It has been and is, a trying summer. So, in a paradoxical way, my issues are the least of my worries.


I have a small courtyard, covered in tiles, surrounded by two storey terraces, except on the SW side - which is a road. The damage from the week plus of 32+ temperatures was more ambient heat than anything else. My garden was tended morning and evening.

I came to figs late in life, but am a devotee. My nostrils fill with the aroma of standing under a laden fig tree in the south of France in September 2008, the ripe fruit bursting from the pods. This year my tree has been equally laden. I have already eaten half a dozen . But now I have an issue. Most of my garden is ornamental, for pleasure rather than survival. I want to move the percentage just a little but worry about the lack of depth to the soil, and my own ability to cope with the workload.


It will always be the garden of a dilettante. I would love to have tomatoes tumbling down the wrought iron, but know that the grub of the white butterfly would make this a futile endeavour. What would you suggest? Perhaps zucchini or capsicum or rockmelon. Or green pea-pods dangling from a trellis.

An aspidistra in the parlor

I've had this aspidistra for quite a few years now, but this is the best it has ever grown. Now, I am wondering if it sprouts flowers. Found this on Wiki: Aspidistra elatior is well-known in cultivation and has a reputation for withstanding neglect, giving rise to its common name of Cast-iron Plant. It is native to the southern islands of Japan. It is tolerant of low light, low humidity, temperature fluctuation and irregular watering. It is best situated in a position away from direct sun to avoid leaf bleaching. Good drainage is also required for optimal growth and to avoid root rot. The species is not seriously troubled by insects, however mites and scale may cause occasional problems. Its leaves and roots may be subject to browsing by hoofed mammals such as deer, as well as rodents and rabbits. Wike also had an image of an Aspidistra flower which I include.

Fade to beauty

This first gardenia reminds me of Richard Roxborough In 'Uncle Vanya'. And of her Cate-ness in 'Streetcar named Desire' - but not in Vanya.

There is a lived in quality to a gardenia past its prime - as though the essence of its life has been absorbed into its walls. It is real. It demands our attention. And our affection. It has a depth, a third dimension. It is worthy of our time.

A youthful gardenia can still trade on its beauty, as though that is all it has to give, just yet. There is a flatness, a singular dimension, that only experience, wrought by time, can remedy.

Green thumb at large

The word is out: I can keep things alive that others can only kill!

I have offered my daughter an hour of gardening per week. It is going splendidly - aided, of course, by all the rain we have received. Next week, I shall set up an herb garden on her kitchen window sill (Basil, Coriander and Italian Parsley). I saved a bundle of self-seeded violets from the planter boxes on her window sill, and interspersed them with succulents which I struck for her. I have a little nursery here in pots, to use when necessary. Other than that, gardening is simply keeping the muck down.


Speaking of which, my son asked me over for some tips on his garden. I assumed he wanted elbow-grease, but no. No, he didn't. I suggested. I pointed. He moved. He pulled. We reorganised things according to the sun's transit and the type of plant. We pulled out old and dying. Trimmed and swept. We even worked out a good spot for a Hills Hoist. He now is charged with obtainng one - legally!

Black thumb proofing

The 'green-thumb' gene is not on my family genome chart apparently. Both my children have an astouding ability to have plants die on them. Generally through lack of water, and any skerrick of interest. Not true. Kirsten has an interest but is time-poor.

So, over the next little while I am giving her 'garden' a lobotomy, much to the relief, I suspect, of my SiL. Whereas, 'til now, she has struggled with penunias and violets and marigolds, we have agreed that I replace them with a variety of succulents. I am establishing these in pots in my courtyard, and when I get back from Melbourne in the middle of November, I will transplate them into the planter boxes hanging off her juliet balcony.