RIGHT: cuneiform on a spring morning. Photo: C. Emily Dibb.

Garden In• the Wind

by C. Emily Dibb

An inspirational garden combines the wild spirit of the fynbos with the traditional English garden.

When I was a child in what was then Matabeleland, it was nine months of the year when there was no rain, this part considered eccentric to have an indigenous garden. A garden, of the garden remained bone-dry. Water from the well was by definition, meant a place where the indigenous vegetation used for the orchard and vegetable beds. Beyond the garden had been swept away to make space for 'real flowers' and was the veld, the waving assegai grass and an infinity of lit­ vegetables. My notions of what constituted a garden were tle highveld trees, many deliciously laden with edible fruit: formed by my grandmothers, who typified the two kinds of monkey orange and donkey berry, wild fig and sweet thorn, gardening that prevailed in Bulawayo in the first half of the wild gardenia, snot apple and sour plum. As a child, I made Twentieth Century. Granny Wightman married at seventeen no distinction between 'the garden' and 'the veld', it was all and trekked by wagon from Kimberley to the tiny settlement part of Granny Greenfield's garden. of Bulawayo. What she craved in this desolation of heat and I have Granny Wightman's adoration of the soft sweet dust were flowers, and her small garden in Abercorn Street scented things of the flower garden, but I continue to revel was a fragrant smother of soft sweet things. Against a bank of in the vigour of indigenous and would not like to do canna lilies, she had dianthus and cleome, stocks and snap­ without one or the other. dragon, linaria and sweet William, phlox and pansies. Roses One of the recurring themes of the famous landscapers of and amaryllis were grown in four-gallon paraffin tins. The Europe is that the immediate environs of the house should be garden was protected from the dust of the street by a hedge of reserved for the most sophisticated plants, while those with sand-olive. Sun was what her flowers needed and shade was wilder and less-cultured associations should be kept to the only to be had on the stoep. peripheries. I can see the value of this, there is always a sense Granny Greenfield, by contrast, lived on the outskirts of comfort and ease in the presence of the familiar and the of Bulawayo'. She married a Minister in the Presbyterian well-mannered, be it human or vegetable. But I believe that in Kirk, coming to Africa from Scotland at twenty-nine. They today's overcrowded world, most of us long for our homes as purchased a number of acres of well-treed granite koppies a place to which we can escape from the pressures of urban separated by open vleis of waving assegai grass. The simple life. If the vegetation that surrounds the home carries some­ stone house on the top of a koppie, was dwarfed by the great thing of the aura of the mountain side and the wilderness, so boulders that surrounded it. There was shade everywhere, much the better. from a sprawling rock fig and a giant marula, Erythrina When I tried my hand at gardening in the hostile environ­ trees, an indaba tree, bush willows (Combretum) and wild ment of Muizenberg in the Western Cape, I found that none syringas all growing among the rocks and close to the house. of my previous gardening experience was of any assistance. The upper terraces were clothed in aloes that flamed into I had thought to have an old world garden to go with myoId flower in winter and sparkled with sunbirds and orioles. Not world house, and to sprinkle it with an appropriate selection a rose bloomed in Granny Greenfield's garden, there were no of lovely indigenous plants. But here, in the teeth of gale-force bright beds of sweet fragrance, no tumble of blossom. For the salt-laden winds, and in soil that was apparently seven parts

82 June 2005 Veld&Flora stone, two parts sand and one part Muizenberg and to see them draped mood of the 'picture' was defined by the salt, nothing thrived. The few treasured with lovely things. Even more agoniz­ dominant rhythms of wind and ocean, indigenous tree seedlings that 1 had ing was to walk in the nature reserves the movement of the wind over the brought with me from the highveld suc­ and to find the veld dancing with a mountain and in the clouds, and the cumbed almost at once - the candelabra multitude of glorious flowers. Most of repetitive rhythm of the waves. euphorbia survived cheerfully for a few these were quite new to me, and their The key to expressing these rhyth­ months, until the night it was crunched elegance and refinement left me speech­ mic themes was colour, replicating the up by the resident porcupine. (1 scarce­ less. 1 became consumed by the desire pervading tonalities, and imitating the ly knew whether to be more upset about to have them in my garden. pulsations of energy in the living pic­ the loss of the euphorbia, or concerned But I was on the horns of a dilemma. ture. The blues and whites of sea for Porky's digestion. However, he came Roses and hydrangeas and traditional and sky came with agapanthus, aris­ to no harm and continued his raids garden flowers require abundant water tae and sea-stattice. The rhythms of with undiminished enthusiasm.) and feeding, and regular applications wind on the land and the water were Within the conventional repertoire of fungicide and pesticide. The tynbos seen in plants with many-stranded ver­ of garden plants, French lavender and plants, on the other hand, are resentful tical growth-lines - the restios were the opium poppy burgeoned and flour­ of conventional gardening practice, and absolutely invaluable, as were all the ished, and they and the ubiquitous will not tolerate cultivation and feeding, bulbs with wand-like stems and slender California poppy and the Cape's winter and are highly sensitive to pesticides. It leaves, watsonias and kniphofias, ixias miracle, Senecio elegans, held the gar­ seemed certain that the two could not and Chasmanthe. The colour-tones of den together. Our initial clearing out of be grown together. the land were contained within the alien pine, blue gum and Port Jackson As 1 was reluctant to relinquish my palette of the native sandstone, every­ vegetation revealed the presence of dream of an old house nestling in a thing from deepest wine red and plum, a few mutilated remnants of Cassine tumble of old world flowers, 1 cleared through the rose-reds and strawberry peragua, the false saffronwood that away the remaining rooikrans and pinks to peach and tawny gold and pal­ is endemic to the original coastal for­ eucalyptus on the higher slopes and est cream. est. I hoped that with trimming and addressed myself to the challenge of Now, like Aladdin in the cave, it tender encouragement, these might be cultivating the tynbos up there. Trying remained only to cram into my garden persuaded to give a little new growth. to think as a painter with an unfinished the contents ofthe rich caskets ofjewels There were also, it turned out, several canvas on the easel, I realized that the contained in the tynbos. This marked of the native camphors, Tarchonanthus camphoratus, and quite a number of unidentifiable stumps that still showed LEFT: Unlikely bedfellows: a signs of life and were presumably all rhododendron and that remained of two centuries of wood­ hottentoticus. cutters' handiwork. This was turning into a salvage operation, rather than a creative endeavour, but it held out the hope that since trees grew here once, they could do so again. 1 put in several young yellowwoods, a milkwood and a stinkwood, and dreamed the usual BELOW: Morning sun and the glory dreams of those who forest giants of , with Rhodes when they themselves are the wrong Cottage behind them. Photos: C. Emily Dibb. side of fifty. At this stage, I was still largely unfa­ miliar with the tynbos. It struck me, coming from the tropics, as unsatisfac­ tory garden material, with flowers for the most part disappointingly small and lacking drama and glamour. A little investigation into the matter indicated a veritable minefield of horticultural cave­ ats that went with the tynbos: mustn't do this and fatal to do that.... well, I wasn't hoping to grow a garden of prima-donnas, if I put in an indigenous plant, I wanted something that could jolly well take care of itself. But time, and continuing failures made me hum­ ble, and with the second winter, I began to look at the fynbos with renewed curiosity. My garden was little better than a wasteland, and it was tantaliz­ ing to raise my eyes to the cliffs above

June 2005 Veld&Flora 83 BELOW: The Old World Rose 'Buff Beauty' living in harmony with the hybrid Leucospermum 'Tango'. Photos: C. Emily Oibb.

ABOVE: The old Cape favourite rose 'Boule de neige' shelters in the lee of a platyspermum.

the beginning of an enchanted journey but by and large the plants did better lers at first, accepted the new routine; of discovery and adventure, and as with the less I did for them. apparently relishing the shade provided all fairy-tales, it led to a love affair with Very soon it became clear that the by a Cussonia spicata and the society of . Like most love affairs, it didn't indigenous section of my garden was a Mimetes hottentoticus. On this difficult all go smoothly. In my eagerness not to gaining hand over fist, and making far site, proteas are the best of companions over-water my new plants, I lost many more of a show than my poor old roses for roses, cheerfully taking over the role to the heat of summer. I learned that and hydrangeas. With the flowering of of protector. My moss rose, for instance, there are no absolutes. 'Enough water' my first proteas and , which valiantly tried to flower year after here, may not be enough water just the love-affair became a full-blooded year but had its buds blighted by the over there, and what is enough for this passion, and that autumn I extended south-easter, now smothers itself in a , will be too much for that one. I the indigenous garden still further and cloud of petals and bursting buds, in began to see why certain species of nat­ began encroaching downwards into the lee of a Protea longifolia. It shares its urally occurring proteas tend to gather what I had thought of as the 'tame gar­ space with pink and cream alstroeme­ together in certain localities. Their indi­ den'. It was only a matter of time before ria, a Selago canescens and an Erica vidual needs can be very specific, and the proteas and roses were side-by­ mammosa. Then, when the rose goes off, what will grow brilliantly on that side side. Another revelation came with the as the Old Roses do, there is a continu­ of the mountain may not do at all well maturing of the leucadendrons. Their ing pageant of colour from the fynbos. on this (different light, different wind, incandescent properties were astound­ Behind them, in the same line of higher water-table). I learned that for ing and each leaf lit up under the sun vision, there is a large tuft of the young proteas the key word is 'damp'. like a shard of stained glass. A group restio Thamnochortus insignis and a They should never dry out completely of them had all the luminous glory of a Leucadendron tinctum, in which Roserie for the first three years of their life. cathedral window. de la Hay has insinuated itself. Their I found myself drawn increasingly By now I had given up conventional purplish hues are wonderfully compli­ towards the concepts of organic gar­ gardening entirely. Fertilizers and pesti­ mentary, and a Jamesbrittenia grandi­ dening. Granular fertilizer was to be cides were a thing of the past, but there flora nearby picks up the blue tint of avoided, even organic food was to be was still the issue ofwater. I had to keep their purples. administered only sparingly. Digging reminding myself of one of the funda­ In the White Garden, the Bourbon out weeds was taboo, mulching was mental principles of organic gardening ­ rose Boule de Niege has snuggled absolutely essential to nourish and lush growth encourages weakness, and into the embrace of a Leucadendron shelter the tiny plants. It was really weakness encourages disease. Better platyspermum. The white-and-lime­ possible to do entirely without pesti­ to make do with stumpier, healthi­ green combination is deliciously cool cides, for many of the proteas come er plants, and sacrifice something of and pleasing. In close proximity are a with built-in protection. The odd bit of the luxury. Even the hydrangeas and white Hemerocallis, a white Podalyria beetle damage, the odd spot of disease, rhododendrons, reluctant fellow travel- calyptrata and the white-flowering

84 June 2005 Veld&Flora Leucospermum bolusii, one of the few colour-match is incomparable, and the nity of bearing, even when tiny, have of the proteas with a fruity fragrance. three look spectacular together in a appeared. This embryonic indigenous At the other end of the white garden, vase. The very old rose China forest of the future now blends with the Rosa Carnea Multiflora grew to huge variety 'Mutabilis', is highly tolerant of domineering proteas, which are rela­ dimensions under the protection of a poor light, poor soil and reduced water­ tively short-lived as trees go. In time, no silver tree . ing, and its unusual colours make it a doubt, the tables will turn. When its single grand flush in spring is wonderful companion for the watsonias Yes, there are those who stoutly main­ over, its snowy splendour is continued and Leucadendron 'Long Tom'. To see tain that they don't wish to see proteas at a lower level by Phylica ericoides and all of these with the afternoon sun shin­ in their gardens, thank you, although Coleonema alba, and then just before ing through them making their colours they are quite happy to see them in the Christmas, the icy theme is reinforced flare is utterly bewitching. veld. And there are those who hold to by the exploding buds of the pure white It is still necessary from time to time the opposite viewpoint, that if you are California tree poppy, that loves the to make certain that the proteas are going to have a fynbos garden, then wretched soil like all the others of its not getting suffocated by their loving kindly do not contaminate its sanctity tribe. companions. They are, and always will with a lot of horticultural vermin from Close to the house my wisteria that be, wild things, and they need a rush of other parts of the world. But fortunate­ snivelled and grumbled for three years, air under their wings to keep them free ly gardening, like painting or music, is thriving in the lee of a two leuca­ of leaf disorders. caters for many different tastes. In the dendrons, (L. discolor and a hybrid L. Meanwhile, the torn and hacked eyes of the gardener, there is never a laureolum). And the English honey­ stumps of the former coastal forest moment of completion, and no such suckle, which I adore and which at first has struggled into new life. It turns out thing as the perfect effect. Beauty in seemed unable to flower, in November that there are several Olea capensis, the garden - more so than any other art commences to fling out great arms of an ironwood, one or two Euclea race­ - is ephemeral, vulnerable to drought as blossom among the glowing branches mosa, and a very energetic candlewood. well as to fire, a creation of the heart of of Leucadendron 'Safari Sunset' and Several small Maurocenia jrangula trees man, but as insubstantial and frail as a Leucospermum 'Flamespike'. Their of orderly disposition and great dig- the petals that make it.

FAR LEFT: Leucospermum oleifolium flourishing above False Bay.

LEFT: Leucadendron 'Candles' against the backdrop of the Muizenberg mountains.

BELOW: The garden in early October with Leucadendron 'Wilson's wonder' in the foreground. Photos: C. Emily Dibb.

June 2005 Veld&Flora 85