Far Out
There are three subdivisions in one corner of this 1200 acres of hills above Charlotte Vale Creek, in what Google maps claims to be Georges Plains. The Old School is just a burned out skeleton waiting for an inspired and wealthy renovator. The Old Church is just an 1870's stone foundation with trees growing through. The bricks were taken away for another building. Our place which is
currently called Far Out, used
to be the post office and school master’s house. It was built in 1879.
This blog will hopefully become the story of the renovation of the gardens at Far Out. Thankfully the house doesn't need much doing to it apart from a new roof.
Our block is
almost 2 acres and it wraps around the school in an L-shape and includes the
three outdoors dunnies from the original site, a mass of fallen down fences, a
veggie patch, chook yards, large iron fowl yard which our geese occupy. The
back of the block is just gum trees but there is a good view back to Bathurst
slightly beyond the top of our block. There are massive clumps of kniphofia and
agapanthus, carpets of a native creeper or some kind of wandering Jew, and a
few shrubs that may be cotoneasters that have overburdened the fence line. There are many bricks and sandstone blocks to
be retrieved that are scattered all over the site, fallen branches, timber and rubbish. There are
fences to build and gates to put in. Thankfully there is also a watering system
in part of the yard, and taps everywhere, as well as a very large water catchment
and storage system which is shared by house and garden.
The people who lived here for most of the
20th century were market gardeners who grew tomatoes on the flats
near a small dam below the house, and they grafted fruit
trees and had a productive orchard as well as bees. Interesting bits of iron,
pottery and glass are retrieved almost every time I go walking the block. The
last occupant put in some roses and elms and a border of natives and
perennials, and grew many geraniums in pots.
She also seems to have created housing for possums and birds in the
trees, and there are many white cockatoos currently eating the fruit. As we
have dogs, geese, chickens, guinea fowl, cats and alpacas, it seems some of the
native animals have deserted us, including the Western grey boomer kangaroos
that were in the paddocks when we first came.
The house is a rare blend of old and older, newish and modern and it works quite nicely.
Although I love English gardens and cold
climate plants, azaleas, rhododendrons and conifers, roses and iris, I want to
find out what grows at Cow Flat and develop something that will be compatible
with the climate. I do not want to extend garden beds so much as nourish and
showcase what is already there, both trees and garden structures that need
restoring. I want it to be rationalised in terms of the maintenance needed,
knowing I will probably always need to employ a gardener. In my renovated garden I would like to see a garden walk that loops around
the entire site from the front or back door to the top of the site and back another way, seats along
the way, and perhaps a structure near the top for sitting and viewing. There should be a cool and quiet place to eat – preferably in
the old orchard – where the animals cannot quite get to us. I think the block is so hot in summer than it needs a water feature where the erosion
is occurring at the back, catching water that would otherwise just run away taking some more poor soil with it. I have been here just one month and I have done nothing except walk through the weeds and tangled iron and wire, dreaming and wondering.
My friend Chris is mapping the tangled site for me, Linda has been hired to garden the few ornamental beds, and Manuela is going to come and turn these dreams into a ten year development plan in water colors. My last garden was built from a naked and compacted field. Back then - 15 years ago - I had three big sons at home and a younger husband to collect manure and hay, lay many inches of paper, sawdust, anything that would mulch including old carpets. Our first trees were poor twisted things retrieved from the back of the nursery where one son was working at the time. It was a time of drought - the dam was empty - but the drought finally broke, the river ran through, and we built something that we thought was wonderful. This time, not so many sons in sight, but, we begin where at least others have labored before.
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