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.
