THE GARDEN IN WINTER

Otago Witness, Issue 3773, 6 July 1926, Page 67

THE GARDEN IN WINTER

A paragraph in the morning paper a few days ago told how in a garden somewhere in the vicinity of Dunedin a scarlet flowering rhododendron tree is now in full bloom—testifying to the mildness of the southern winter so far. The tree, it is said, has been growing for some 40 years in its present situation, and has always chosen to flower in winter, but usually the winter cold has prevented the blossoms from opening properly. Certainly, though there were some fairly sharp frosts a few weeks ago, the seasoi has been mild so far, and flowers are lingering late—or opening early. Roses may be seen blooming fresh and fair almost as in Bummer in Dunedin gardens, with winter primroses, pansies, and the last stragglers of many autumn flowers. But there may be plenty of wintry weather ahead yet. Very illogically, many people take a mild midwinter as a token of an early spring, and they go on doing this in spite of repeated disappointments. Not long ago I saw a newspaper local calling attention to the fact that kowhai trees were i: flower in the neighbourhood of Dunedin, and thence inferring a very early spring. I remember just the same prognostication last winter, based on the fact that some kowhai trees were to be seen in flower. And what a late and inclement spring actually’ followed —continually cold and wet, and with heavy snowfalls in September! We had scarcely anything like spring weather up to November. It is not likely that the coming spring will be so bad as the last, for it is a pretty safe rule to go by that in our country the seasons of one year will never closely resemble those of the preceding one, and, of course, the more extreme and unusual the weather one season, the less likely is it to be repeated next year. But it will be soon enough to talk of an early spring when spring is due by the calendar, and when we see grass springing and trees in fresh leaf,- and all the spring flowers opening. And even then there may be a setback, and the approach to summer be delayed. As a matter of fact the flowering of plants i 3 related to the weather of the preceding season of growth, not to the weather to come. And naturally a mild autumn and early winter may encourage some plants to flower unseasonably, but no inference as to the coming season can be drawn from this.

Even in our coldest winters our gardens are never bare of flowers—at least, in the coastal districts. I have never spent a winter in Central Otago. And in the open, gorse flowers freely all through the winter, though its richest profusion of bloom comes in September. We can scarcely imagine what it must be like to be without flowers for months, as people in the northern Uniteu States and Canada must be, unless they can buy or grow hot-house flowers. Here, in the South Island of New Zealand, as in the Homeland, the seasons are sufficiently marked to provide the charm of variety and the special gladness of renewed growth and bloom in spring and early summer; yet growth never ceases wholly, and garden lovers can usually contrive to have many flowers blooming freely throughout the winter months. Very much depends, of course, on the site of the garden and the nature of the soil; there must be shelter from wirtds, and exposure to the sun. But much also depends on management, on choosing plants and shrubs that will flower in winter, on giving them the right situation, and on planting and setting bulbs at the right time. g Mrs Marion Cran in her latest book entitled “ Garden Talks ” gives many hints about what to do in order to have garden flowers throughout the winter. Many people, she says, are perfectly resigned to a bare, colourless, and lifeless garden through the winter months. They bow their head, , and say it is inevitable that winter must be dreary in a garden. When she talked to relatives and friends about the delight of a winter garden they thought she was joking till she got them down to her Surrey garden at Christmas time. ‘‘They found vases of irises and roses and jasmine in their bedrooms, * and downstairs hellebores (which ugly word is the proper name for Christmas roses), and pink heather all over the place. When I said they came from the garden, arid were blooming there without glass or any protection, he (her brother) had to go and see for himself. I took him down to the place where the Christmas roses opened their wide, flat, waxen saucers low on the earth; to the thick border of ‘ iris stylesa * under a south wall; the yellow jasmine brushed our faces as we passed out of the front door, and there were still some buds on the two bushes of hybrid musk roses, planted in a snug place. Round the feeding table and water bowl for wild birds was a thick band of Erica carnea,

the winter-blooming heather, all crowded with rosy buds. Seeing was believing; and he has his own nice winter garden now. It was amusing to hear his conceit when the first blue iris opened for him orte Christmas. He was not worrying about the Riviera any more; he was richer than all the world because a pale blue, fragrant iris, delicate in texture as any orchid, was out in his own garden on Christmas Day/ 1 I suppose the climate of Surrey and south England generally corresponds

pretty well with that of the lowland districts of Otago. But Mrs Gran’s garden was on shady soil, and sheltered by pine woods, and so probably specially favourable to winter and early spring growth. In New Zealand the introduced English birds are commonly looked on as unmitigated pests, and we are only tardily waking up to the desirability of protecting as far as possible our native birds, which for the most part cause no trouble to the farmer and gardener. So the idea of feeding birds in winter time instead of poisoning them is likely to meet with scant favour here; nevertheless I will quote what Mrs Cran says in her latest book about hospitality to birds in winter. In her previous garden books she has also told of her provision for the birds frequenting her garden.

“ I believe the winter flowers are more precious than any, because they bloom when all else is bare. So the sensible thing to do is to arrange the winter garden in a sunny sheltered place in full view of those house windows which are used all the winter time, and to place thc-e a bird-table, so that the pretty, friendly creatures may fill the winter garden with life and movement and the beauty of animate colour and form. Watching them, we grow to know them individually, to call some by name, and love them more than the rest. It is the bird-table which gives the greatest charm to the true winter garden. The wild things amply repay the kindness of a place where they can feed in hard times. It is one of my greatest joys spreading breakfast for the little fellows, whom I know by name, so regular are they at the window.” She goes on to describe her bird guests—two pugnacious robins, two wagtails, chaffinches, a host of tits, little and big; blackbirds, thrushes, and in the background magpies, a green red-headed woodpecker, and a tiny wren which refuses to be patronised. “I have heard people say that it is bad gardening to feed birds in winter, for they will come again in summer to eat the fruit buds and the fruit. But refer for a moment to the data of the Royal Society for Bird Protection, and consider the just balance between work and damage. Chaffinches an*- linnets eat the seed of knotgrass, thistle, groundsel, plantain, shepherd’s purse, and charlock; seeing that one small spike of plantain Yields at least three thousand seeds, it would be a weedy, woeful world for the flower-lover if there were no birds. That pest of our gardens, the greenflv or aphis, would devastate us if the tits and wrens were not among its most deadly and tireless hunters.” The bird table, of which illustrations are given, must of course be high enough to be well out of reach of cats. In New Zealand the white-eye or ring-eye does the work of the English tits and wrens in destroying th*.- aphis. Though bird feeding is not popular here, I know a few people who place food for birds in some safe place in their yards or gardens, and tie lumps of fat to tree branches for the benefit of the white eyes, who are particularly font! of it. Mis Cran describes several varieties of autumn and winter crocuses, saying they they are too little grown in English garden's. I do not think they are much known here. There is a wonderful blue crocus which will come up as soon as autumn rains have wetted the soil, two varieties of pink crocus flowering * little later, one of which is very fragrant, and others. Hellebores do best in sha ly places where leaf mould has rotted under trees, hedges, or ferns, and once established do best left to themselves without being moved like peonies. “They may be planted under the hedge of Hybrid Musk roses in the winter garden. Most people can find a place for the yellow, winterflowering jasmine. It is always full of bud in winter-time, before its leaves come out, waiting for every mild spell to clothe itself in pale cloth-of-gold. I saw it once grown on arches alternately with ivy—an ivy arch and then a jasmine arch all down long walk—and it was a most attractive sight.” Among shrubs to brighten the winter , garden Mrs Cran mentions the Cornelian Cherry, which has vellow flowers, a white sweet-scented honeysuckle, and the Daphne Mezereum, which bears flowers of a peculiar purplish colour on its leafless stems. And of herbaceous flowers she lays stress on the beauty of the socalled winter aconite, which is really a kind of buttercup, and blossoms just before the snowdrops. Of course the winter garden will have abundance of primroses for the spring display of bloom as well as for winter flowering, with bulbs planted for spring flowering, and other plants to furnish a continuous succession of flowers. Well managed,, the winter garden will be a joy throughout the year.