Now it has surprised me by blooming suddenly, and although the flowers are short-lived, they are an unexpectedly dramatic bonus , and will be worth waiting for every year.
Friday, 7 March 2008
Prized plant
Some weeks ago, when I bought Dianella 'White Tiger', it wasn't in bloom. I was attracted by its name and even more by its striking foliage, perfect for our grey-themed rock garden along the side lane.
Now it has surprised me by blooming suddenly, and although the flowers are short-lived, they are an unexpectedly dramatic bonus , and will be worth waiting for every year.
Now it has surprised me by blooming suddenly, and although the flowers are short-lived, they are an unexpectedly dramatic bonus , and will be worth waiting for every year.
Monday, 3 March 2008
The Bathurst show
Bathurst is a town about 100km away, lying at the western foot of the Blue Mountains and hence the gateway to the vast western plains. Its show draws exhibitors from the surrounding agricultural areas. We went primarily to check out the animals but ended up doing more people-watching, as entries were sparse in the livestock competitions, perhaps a result of the decade-long drought that has seen many smaller holdings go bankrupt. Although the drought is now officially over, after the wettest summer since 1953, it has devastated rural communities and turned more than a few outback centres into virtual ghost towns.
Michael has a good selection of photos on his website, whereas I only took three: a large man and his small granddaughter taking the dodgem cars very seriously; one of the rides, patronised only by little girls -clearly too sedate for any of the boys; and the winner of the best cake. No really!
Michael has a good selection of photos on his website, whereas I only took three: a large man and his small granddaughter taking the dodgem cars very seriously; one of the rides, patronised only by little girls -clearly too sedate for any of the boys; and the winner of the best cake. No really!
The Bathurst show
Bathurst is a town about 100km away, lying at the western foot of the Blue Mountains and hence the gateway to the vast western plains. Its show draws exhibitors from the surrounding agricultural areas. We went primarily to check out the animals but ended up doing more people-watching, as entries were sparse in the livestock competitions, perhaps a result of the decade-long drought that has seen many smaller holdings go bankrupt. Although the drought is now officially over, after the wettest summer since 1953, it has devastated rural communities and turned more than a few outback centres into virtual ghost towns.
Michael has a good selection of photos on his website, whereas I only took three: a large man and his small granddaughter taking the dodgem cars very seriously; one of the rides, patronised only by little girls -clearly too sedate for any of the boys; and the winner of the best cake. No really!
Michael has a good selection of photos on his website, whereas I only took three: a large man and his small granddaughter taking the dodgem cars very seriously; one of the rides, patronised only by little girls -clearly too sedate for any of the boys; and the winner of the best cake. No really!
Sunday, 2 March 2008
Sydney Gardens
On Friday, February 29, I went to see three public gardens in Sydney, taking my sister with me for companionship.
The first stop, and in some ways the best, was Lisgar Gardens in the northern Sydney suburb of Hornsby. The sign at the entrance explains its origins:
It is a tribute to the local council that this garden, a skilful blend of formal and informal, is so beautiful and well-maintained. It is also one of Hornsby's best-kept secrets. We saw no-one in the hour we spent exploring its many paths.
Garden two was the Swain Garden at Killara, another north shore suburb. Although roughly the same size, it was a quite different experience. The bones were there, but so too was an air of neglect. This garden was donated to Kuringai Council by its owner, a Sydney bookseller, and is cared for (if I may use the term loosely) by various clubs. What this appears to mean is that it's nobody's child. Signs designate which club - Soroptimists, Rotary, RSL - is responsible for which area, so you know who's letting down the side. At least the birds are appreciative: a large family of kookaburras and a pair of king parrots were in residence. Once again, we seemed to be the only human visitors.
The last garden we visited was Kuringai Wildflower Garden. By far the largest at 124 hectares, it is more accurately a bushland reserve threaded with walking trails of varying length and difficulty. There's a large hall adjoining the parking lot where assorted bits of information are posted on the walls, and someone does an informative display with samples of plants that are currently in flower. These are identified with both common and botanical names, but there's no indication of where one might find them in the landscape. The place looks as though it might be staffed, but was eerily silent both times we found ourselves there.
Partly because it seemed so deserted, partly because the Australian bush does not readily reveal its attractions, I found myself losing enthusiasm. But once we set off on one of the trails, we soon became absorbed by the remarkable plants native to this country. Rusty gold candles of Banksia serrata and chubby green brushes on Banksia marginata glowed in the sunlight.
Scribbly gums showed off their colourful bark with its characteristic etching.
We saw a little wallaby cruising along the edge of a picnic area.
And admired this grass tree near the parking lot.
The weather was beautiful, sunny with a hint of autumn chill in the shade: a perfect day for our outing. Granted it was a working day for many, but I found it strange that there were no tourists, retirees, or mums with young children enjoying these public places, all of them free and within easy reach of the city.
The first stop, and in some ways the best, was Lisgar Gardens in the northern Sydney suburb of Hornsby. The sign at the entrance explains its origins:
It is a tribute to the local council that this garden, a skilful blend of formal and informal, is so beautiful and well-maintained. It is also one of Hornsby's best-kept secrets. We saw no-one in the hour we spent exploring its many paths.
Garden two was the Swain Garden at Killara, another north shore suburb. Although roughly the same size, it was a quite different experience. The bones were there, but so too was an air of neglect. This garden was donated to Kuringai Council by its owner, a Sydney bookseller, and is cared for (if I may use the term loosely) by various clubs. What this appears to mean is that it's nobody's child. Signs designate which club - Soroptimists, Rotary, RSL - is responsible for which area, so you know who's letting down the side. At least the birds are appreciative: a large family of kookaburras and a pair of king parrots were in residence. Once again, we seemed to be the only human visitors.
The last garden we visited was Kuringai Wildflower Garden. By far the largest at 124 hectares, it is more accurately a bushland reserve threaded with walking trails of varying length and difficulty. There's a large hall adjoining the parking lot where assorted bits of information are posted on the walls, and someone does an informative display with samples of plants that are currently in flower. These are identified with both common and botanical names, but there's no indication of where one might find them in the landscape. The place looks as though it might be staffed, but was eerily silent both times we found ourselves there.
Partly because it seemed so deserted, partly because the Australian bush does not readily reveal its attractions, I found myself losing enthusiasm. But once we set off on one of the trails, we soon became absorbed by the remarkable plants native to this country. Rusty gold candles of Banksia serrata and chubby green brushes on Banksia marginata glowed in the sunlight.
Scribbly gums showed off their colourful bark with its characteristic etching.
We saw a little wallaby cruising along the edge of a picnic area.
And admired this grass tree near the parking lot.
The weather was beautiful, sunny with a hint of autumn chill in the shade: a perfect day for our outing. Granted it was a working day for many, but I found it strange that there were no tourists, retirees, or mums with young children enjoying these public places, all of them free and within easy reach of the city.
Sydney Gardens
On Friday, February 29, I went to see three public gardens in Sydney, taking my sister with me for companionship.
The first stop, and in some ways the best, was Lisgar Gardens in the northern Sydney suburb of Hornsby. The sign at the entrance explains its origins:
It is a tribute to the local council that this garden, a skilful blend of formal and informal, is so beautiful and well-maintained. It is also one of Hornsby's best-kept secrets. We saw no-one in the hour we spent exploring its many paths.
Garden two was the Swain Garden at Killara, another north shore suburb. Although roughly the same size, it was a quite different experience. The bones were there, but so too was an air of neglect. This garden was donated to Kuringai Council by its owner, a Sydney bookseller, and is cared for (if I may use the term loosely) by various clubs. What this appears to mean is that it's nobody's child. Signs designate which club - Soroptimists, Rotary, RSL - is responsible for which area, so you know who's letting down the side. At least the birds are appreciative: a large family of kookaburras and a pair of king parrots were in residence. Once again, we seemed to be the only human visitors.
The last garden we visited was Kuringai Wildflower Garden. By far the largest at 124 hectares, it is more accurately a bushland reserve threaded with walking trails of varying length and difficulty. There's a large hall adjoining the parking lot where assorted bits of information are posted on the walls, and someone does an informative display with samples of plants that are currently in flower. These are identified with both common and botanical names, but there's no indication of where one might find them in the landscape. The place looks as though it might be staffed, but was eerily silent both times we found ourselves there.
Partly because it seemed so deserted, partly because the Australian bush does not readily reveal its attractions, I found myself losing enthusiasm. But once we set off on one of the trails, we soon became absorbed by the remarkable plants native to this country. Rusty gold candles of Banksia serrata and chubby green brushes on Banksia marginata glowed in the sunlight.
Scribbly gums showed off their colourful bark with its characteristic etching.
We saw a little wallaby cruising along the edge of a picnic area.
And admired this grass tree near the parking lot.
The weather was beautiful, sunny with a hint of autumn chill in the shade: a perfect day for our outing. Granted it was a working day for many, but I found it strange that there were no tourists, retirees, or mums with young children enjoying these public places, all of them free and within easy reach of the city.
The first stop, and in some ways the best, was Lisgar Gardens in the northern Sydney suburb of Hornsby. The sign at the entrance explains its origins:
It is a tribute to the local council that this garden, a skilful blend of formal and informal, is so beautiful and well-maintained. It is also one of Hornsby's best-kept secrets. We saw no-one in the hour we spent exploring its many paths.
Garden two was the Swain Garden at Killara, another north shore suburb. Although roughly the same size, it was a quite different experience. The bones were there, but so too was an air of neglect. This garden was donated to Kuringai Council by its owner, a Sydney bookseller, and is cared for (if I may use the term loosely) by various clubs. What this appears to mean is that it's nobody's child. Signs designate which club - Soroptimists, Rotary, RSL - is responsible for which area, so you know who's letting down the side. At least the birds are appreciative: a large family of kookaburras and a pair of king parrots were in residence. Once again, we seemed to be the only human visitors.
The last garden we visited was Kuringai Wildflower Garden. By far the largest at 124 hectares, it is more accurately a bushland reserve threaded with walking trails of varying length and difficulty. There's a large hall adjoining the parking lot where assorted bits of information are posted on the walls, and someone does an informative display with samples of plants that are currently in flower. These are identified with both common and botanical names, but there's no indication of where one might find them in the landscape. The place looks as though it might be staffed, but was eerily silent both times we found ourselves there.
Partly because it seemed so deserted, partly because the Australian bush does not readily reveal its attractions, I found myself losing enthusiasm. But once we set off on one of the trails, we soon became absorbed by the remarkable plants native to this country. Rusty gold candles of Banksia serrata and chubby green brushes on Banksia marginata glowed in the sunlight.
Scribbly gums showed off their colourful bark with its characteristic etching.
We saw a little wallaby cruising along the edge of a picnic area.
And admired this grass tree near the parking lot.
The weather was beautiful, sunny with a hint of autumn chill in the shade: a perfect day for our outing. Granted it was a working day for many, but I found it strange that there were no tourists, retirees, or mums with young children enjoying these public places, all of them free and within easy reach of the city.
Friday, 15 February 2008
Valley of the Waters
Yesterday, we joined our bushwalking group for a day's hike in the above-named area. With the breaking of the drought over recent weeks, it lived up to its name with beautiful waterfalls and lush vegetation all along the trails. We climbed steeply down the escarpment, made our way along a narrow trail that traversed a midway point along the cliff face and then tested our leg muscles on the upward climb back to our starting point.
It is amazing how much plant life has been able to secure a foothold and survive in crevices on the sheer rock faces.
This Angophora (a type of eucalyptus that sheds its bark annually as this one is doing now) seems hardly anchored to the ground at all.
Red, yellow, green and slate blue lichens were thriving on many of the boulders that we passed.
See more photos of the scenery on Michael's blog.
It is amazing how much plant life has been able to secure a foothold and survive in crevices on the sheer rock faces.
This Angophora (a type of eucalyptus that sheds its bark annually as this one is doing now) seems hardly anchored to the ground at all.
Red, yellow, green and slate blue lichens were thriving on many of the boulders that we passed.
See more photos of the scenery on Michael's blog.
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