Digging up the dirt on what's in my garden

 This big disc of iron has cast into it the name of John Bellamy, Byng Street, London.  It is a proud announcement that it is a valuable and significant item.

I included this photo in my last blog because the artefact has just been returned to the garden, this time on display rather than buried.

It is now a piece of landscape memorabilia, and I prefer the fact that it's more than a store-bought bit of rustica.

I wondered briefly if this thing had history, and when I finally sat down with a cup of tea after hours in the garden, I realised I needed to know more about Mr Bellamy's iron works.

I have an entire rust gallery of found items, mostly mechanical curiosities or farm equipment. This house had been in the same family for more than 70 years when we came, and nothing seems to have ever left the property. With no rubbish service, everything was buried.

When I tapped the Bellamy information into Google I was rewarded with a  history of the iron foundry company from 1860 to 1937, as well as half a dozen other interesting sites. Bits of iron like this are actually a valued curiosity for particular people who collect iron lids, and academic papers have been written about them, mentioning John Bellamy and listing other manufacturers of ship's tank lids Link: Shipping tanks

Here is an extract from Michael Pearson's paper in Australian Historical Archaeology.

"The ship tank was invented by Richard Trevithick, the prominent Cornish engineer of the industrial revolution, and his partner John Dickinson, in 1808. Their patent specifications of 31 October 1808 described well the advantages of developing the new container, which was the first to challenge the wooden barrel in its particular uses. The new ship tank was described as being for:

... the purpose of containing, enveloping,

preserving and securing from damage the several

articles of merchandise and other goods, whetherin

the solid or in the liquid form, which are taken on

board ships and other vessels to be transported or

consumed... And further, we do make our said

packages, vessels or receptacles of such figures or

forms that they fit exteriorly to each other,"

Today we would simply call these shipping containers.

Once I knew what the iron lid was, I realised that it probably fits into the  massive cast iron tank that I can see from my kitchen window, rusting away next door at the derelict school.  It probably arrived here in the early 1870's. According to one author, shipping tanks were abandoned on gold mining sites all over Australia and New Zealand, and re purposed as water tanks, dog kennels and domestic  storage containers. Below is an example of a lid in situ, made by another company.

A web site has been dedicated to the study of tank lids
Link: .http://www.ozwrenches.com/tank-lids-london.htm

A gardener's strategies for surviving another Australian summer

I spent several hours in the garden this morning, amazed at how much has survived our second relentless hot and dry summer in Cow Flat.

Dominating one of the embankments is a thriving golden diosma, that most pedestrian of little plants, useful if you want to fill a space or create a hedge. This one was given to me as a gift when I moved in, and given my personal plant prejudices, I tucked it between a collection of more interesting things, all of which have now died. I did not particularly nurture that plant, and each time I spotted it growing wildly, I wondered why. I guessed it just liked being here. This year I bought a couple more. There is wisdom in here, somewhere.

Everything is under a blanket of heavy mulch, but acclimatized plants push through with great determination. When the hot weather set in I decided to dig up a few plants - notably the passionfruit pictured above-  that were struggling and put them in my Mercy Garden close to the house, where I could water them with whatever we saved from the shower and washing machine.

In praise of the humble but hardy Agapanthus

Everything in the garden is crisp. It has been the hottest summer of the hottest year on record. Yet the humble Agapanthus is blooming in long avenues throughout my garden, and I  so very grateful for its hardiness. 

We gave away thousands of these plants after the Bob Cat dug up a hundred years' growth through the old orchards, but we judiciously replanted the long rows along the driveway and towards the back paddocks.

Everything else I impulsively planted before going into hospital in October, is dead. Even things that have survived here for decades are shedding their branches. There is a massive cedar in one corner which is probably as old as this house (1879) and it is throwing away branches in disgust, determined to survive.