Bulbous beauty

I can’t decide if it’s just a matter of association, but I love the look of bulbs.  I’m not talking about the flowers (though I love those too), I’m talking about the bulbs themselves.  I love the feel of them.  The weight of them.  The texture of them. Continue reading

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RSVP Plant Revisit

This time last year we had a great long discussion (possibly the longest in the history of The Gardenist) about companion planting for colchicums (check it out here).  The point was that they can look at bit lonely on their own – all dressed up and no one to go with…

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A Few PGA Triumphs

So I declare, straight up, that PGA (Plant Growers Australia) occasionally gives me plants to try out.  They’ve never asked me to write about them, and I’ve never offered to, let alone promised to. Continue reading

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The Aftershocks Continue…

Yet another shake-up.  Will I ever be left alone to dwell in a chubby, buffered comfort zone?  I’d barely regained my balance after being knocked for six in the gardens of the Marlborough region of NZ. Continue reading

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The Life and Times of a Cherry Branch

I’ve watched flowering cherries come and go for over thirty years.  For most of that time I’ve accepted the brevity of their flowering without ever having taken notes or any other records in order to establish exactly how long the flowering lasts.  The best I could do was guess, and from memory I’d have estimated two to three weeks, depending on the weather, and that in certain conditions it might be as little as three days.  But I’ve learned not to trust my memory. Continue reading

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Musing of the Muses

Imagine a world before screens, when all images depended on reflected rather than penetrant light (OK, OK, except those in stained-glass windows). Go back earlier and imagine a world before photography, when all illustrations were drawn, painted etc, and the best depictions of flowers were the astonishing – but undeniably flat and matte – water-coloured lithographs of Curtis Botanical magazine. Continue reading

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Watching the watchers

I stumbled upon a quote yesterday by a guy who had apparently never liked jazz until an occasion when he watched a jazz muso playing with his eyes closed, in visible bliss.  He concludes “Sometimes you have to watch somebody love something before you can love it yourself.  It’s as if they are showing you the way”. Continue reading

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