Autumn has blown in early bringing abundant rain. The garden made a sudden recovery from the long hot summer, and the roses, which I had fed with something called Black Gold, burst into bloom. The long months of mulching and buying in water, twice using the water and bucketing it out to stressed plants, was rewarded. I even welcomed the purple and mauve bracts of buddleia, not my favourite shrubs, but they survived and bloomed. Despite my Evil Knee, depleted bank account and the weather, the garden is alive and flourishing.
I learned so much about resilience and perseverence from the garden.
The stone embankment we built eight months ago, using recycled blocks found in the paddock, has ground cover roses tumbling down it, annuals, fuchsia, natives grevillia and miniature agapanthus. Strange combinations which I have never attempted before. I am growing plants that are strangers to me, because I lived in the mountains for so long or in its shadow. This climate is bewildering.
