Good humoured gardening

Press, 26 December 1985, Page 11

Good humoured gardening

Thelma Strongman

People and their gardens

Margaret McMullin lives in a tiny, cosy weatherboard cottage in Springfield. It was built in Christchurch over a hundred years ago and was trundled by road to Springfield when the old mine was first opened up there. Set within the proverbial quarter acre section, it became the home of a miner’s family.

Six pines were originally planted for shelter in the front of the cottage but by the time Margaret McMullin began to make the garden, they had become battered and unsightly and overpowered the small cottage, so she had them removed.

top of the gravel since its arrival from Christchurch without the need for any foundations.

The wind blows very strongly in Springfield and the tall trees which form the boundary along one side of the back garden all lean in one direction — away from the ncr’wester. A young decapitated rowan tree is its most recent victim.

All this has led to Margaret McMullin’s relaxed policy of allowing anything which survives to have its head. Alpine and rock plants seem to do best, crouching under the force of the nor’westers and putting down long roots into the gravel in their search for water.

The end of the back garden is dominated by a large, unsightly, wind-blasted pine which has sustained much battering over the years. Margaret McMullin has asked several different contractors to remove it. “They take one look at it and never return," she says with a mock-grim expression. Another difficulty in making the garden is the dry gravelly soil, through which water percolates like a colander, even when heavy mulches are added. The properties of the soil are demonstrated by the cottage, which has been sitting on

The garden is planted informally, with alpine beds gradually expanding into the small lawn. At the end of the garden a group of mixed pyramid-shaped conifers add contrast and help to hide the septic tan):. Some of the alpine beds are contained by old railway sleepers. She enjoys using these as they seem to look well and are in keeping with the spirit of Springfield as an old railway settlement.

Margaret McMullin very much enjoys her small cottage as it involves the mini-

mum of housework. Whilst she likes comfortable order she dislikes regimentation and excessive tidiness.

Reflecting this, her plants are allowed to wander about and grow up through one another. The effect is charming.

“Craigieburn.” The neighbourhood around the tiny cottage is friendly. There are gaps in the boundary hedges of the back gardens for ease of communication. Several of the neighbours are good vegetable gardeners and Margaret McMullin likes to join in with this local enthusiasm.

Particularly fine are the Kaufmann tulips which are allowed to poke up through the mats and hummocks, and the interesting varieties of fritillaries with delicate bells of brown, olive green and dusky purple. . Her favourites, of which she has a sizeable collection, belong to the dianthus family. The earliest in the garden is the tiny “Naywood’s Cream,” and the most intriguing is a variety which has so far evaded identification. Probably a hybrid of casual parentage, it was found growing neglected amongst the ruins of the old Craigieburn railway settlement. It seems to have matching markings but reverse colourings of “Dad’s Favourite.” She calls it

She has made a small vegetable garden on one side of the garden between a double row of railway sleepers. However, she has come to the conclusion that she is not tidy enough to be a proper vegetable gardener as her vegetables have been taken over by the herbs; violets and pinks which grow alongside the rhubarb. In a corner of the garden is a beautiful old quince tree which hides the compost. If its fragrant white blossoms are not stripped by the wind in spring, with luck, she has beautiful pearshaped fruits by late summen >

Near the front of the cottage is a border of oldfashioned roses, “Zephirine Drouhin," “Celine Forestier,” “Ferdinand Pichard” and other beauties. Margaret McMullin terms this her “Disaster Area.” She left the roses to become rather feral during the winter until after she had painted the fence behind them. Unfortunately she caught the ’flu instead and the roses flopped and sulked into spring in unsympathetic response.

Additionally, a campanula suddenly ran amok in this area, putting down coarse parsnip-type roots jostling the roots of the roses.

Although Margaret McMullin has a host of horticultural difficulties to contend with, she has made an exquisite and charming old-world cottage garden which reflects the comfort, cheerfulness, and good humour with which it is worked.