Cape snow in April

Walking towards the mountain last Sunday morning, to the dam on Houdconstant farm. Pomegranates, oranges, grapes. Where we disturbed a small flock of dark spurwinged geese. As we tried to get closer for a photo, they took off, in bunches, circled and settled, elsewhere. One of the few dams that still has water, after the summer, harvesting what drains down from the mountain. The nearby Voelvlei dam supplies the city of Cape Town with water.

Houdconstant farm dam

Spurwinged geese

Back in town we find some Yard Art. They look peaceful and comfortable. And blind! But I guess they are dozing in the afternoon sun, an open book discarded on his lap. Quiet greige, not the usual garden gnome palette.

Yard Art

Yesterday someone came to my blog looking for snow. Me too, so I asked myself. Weather Observers, based in South Africa but not only, part of the same www we garden blog in. That is where I go to find out about mountain fires, floods and road closures, or snow. The cold snap on Tuesday brought snow to George, Ceres and Tulbagh.

(Remember our cold weather comes across the Atlantic straight up from Antarctica - southernmost Cape Agulhas to Antarctica six thousand kilometres away). We are 33 degrees South. Level with Perth and north of all New Zealand, with its frost-fighting-wind-machines amongst the vines. Approximately level with Santiago/Chile and Buenos Aires/Argentina in South America. If you Northerners are sick of snow, be kind to us. In the Western Cape snow is a bit Camelot, a dusting on the mountain peaks – no frost in the garden, no icy roads, just cold enough to enjoy a fire in the evening.

PS 33rd parallel North goes thru Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Tripoli in Libya. Golan Heights in Israel, Syria, Iraq, Iran. Khyber Pass in Pakistan, Kashmir and Pradesh in India, Tibet.  Japan.  California, Arizona, New Mexico, Georgia ... in the USA. Circling round to Madeira off Portugal.

Today, a day late, we head in the opposite direction, towards the sea, and in the car. A little too far to walk with pleasure, but only minutes by car. Past the so-called coloured part of town, Monte Bertha, with a spectacular view of our snowy mountains. Our house is on the PANDA (previously advantaged now disadvantaged) side, where the snow is hidden by the foothills and the Olifantskop in my header.

Groot Winterhoek

Snow on Groot Winterhoek 
2077 metres, 6814 feet

Snow!

The wheat was harvested, the stubble was burnt. Now the rain has softened the ground, the farmers are out in the fields with tractors. Turning over damp soil which looks promising. Instead of ploughing dry dust which blows away in horrifying clouds. There goes our topsoil. Altho our neighbour once told me, that the farmers have to plough and plant the seeds by a set date, or the insurance won’t pay. The farmer knows the ground is too hard and dry, but his hands are tied.

Field furrows

In the fields

This is the earliest we have had such cold weather since the Seventies. We have gratefully received twice as much rain this April as last year. Busy pruning, then spreading cuttings of happy plants in our garden. Repetition, repetition, repetition. Somewhere, after the pond, for the eye to rest, as we have no lawn.

If you are not in the UK, and your blogging circle hasn’t brought you this – at The Wedding today. 

Pictures by Jurg and Diana,

words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

- wildlife gardening in Porterville,  

near Cape Town in South Africa   

   

(If you mouse over brown text, it turns shriek pink. 

Those are my links)

Wildflower Week in April

Yesterday I harvested this month’s native / indigenous /  wild flowers for Gail's meme. Our weather forecast for Malmesbury includes a white slab with irregular edge. Frost pockets. They also promise snow on our mountains. We almost had a Western Cape Easter with snow. Carolyn - our snowdrops should feel more comfortable – if they didn’t get cooked to death in the summer.

Bulbinella

Having spent the summer with red wrinkled autumnal leaves – the Bulbinella is returning to flowers. Tiding my ‘Hanging Gardens of Babylon’ bulb collection thru the We’re greening and the flowers are coming stage.

Oxalis, Tulbaghia
Dimorphotheca jucunda, Hypoxis

The lime yellow Oxalis pes-caprae is unusual for being knee high and vigorous. Most Oxalis are a naturalise-in-the-lawn height. Tiny bulbs easily lost in the garden. My pink ones from Kirstenbosch stay in pots. This year, seeing how you nurture our bulbs, I have been kindly watering them once a week since autumn. (The overhang blocks the rain). Tulbaghia is in my blue and purple border. Hypoxis with its unique three ranks of leaves. Purple Dimorphotheca jucunda manages a few flowers all year round, while the pink, white and yellow are still feeling thoughtful. Cuttings to the purple border, again. 

Crassula, Aloe sp.
Cotyledon orbiculata, Aloe ciliaris

The tree aloe (as in climbing) is the first to actually flower. The red leaved Crassula, pig's ears and aloes have buds, which lengthen and turn colour as you watch. 

Pelargoniums

To my eyes Pelargonium and Plumbago petals look equally fragile. But while the Pelargoniums dance in the rain, the Plumbago looks dishevelled, sodden, and I found just a single flower open.

Blue sage, Plumbago
Phyllis van Heerden, olives

We have white, and sky and Royal Cape blue Plumbago. But they were not inclined to be photographed. The blue sage is looking battered and in need of cutting back (WHEN?) Phyllis van Heerden survived the summer and the Ungardener’s grumbling watering (another summer rainfall plant?) Judging by the nibbles in the olives, they would be ripe and ready to harvest.

Jasmine, Plectranthus madagascariensis
jasmine berry, knoffel buchu

The jasmine is growing with abandon, who knew it made large black berries. The clematis is sulking. White spires on Plectranthus madagascariensis look imposing, but only if you get down to their level. Tiny puffball on the knoffel buchu. Planted with the white roses, if you brush against it, you move away in an aromatic cloud of garlic.

Tecomaria
Sunbird

Read that the hummingbirds have a Latin name = haven’t got a leg to stand on. Our sunbirds will hover – do we HAVE to?! But the nectar they feed on, is from plants with strong enough stems to perch nearby. Aloes in winter, Tecomaria now.

Mandela's Gold, Strelitzia regina

Mandela’s Gold is bringing us a succession of flowers. The original species Strelitzia, with orange and blue flowers is making its first flowers (thanks to my sister B).

Bietou, Chrysanthemoides monilifera
with 'common hairtail' butterfly 

There is something implausible, unlikely – a daisy that makes large berries. Still green, but they will turn black. This bietou Chrysanthemoides monilifera was planted by the birds.

If you don’t see the sidebar, 

and once were, are or will be a Blotanist, please click thru to the blog. 

Four questions, LOTS of checking on the results, but not many voting!

17 to 5    in favour of Blotanical Awards being reinstated this year,

18 to 5    agree we should be active on Blotanical to qualify for an award,

18 to 5    want 2 or 3 nominations up front.

16 to 4    agree that it is more fun if each blog can only win one award.

Yes?         No?

Pictures by Diana and Jurg,

words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

- wildlife gardening in Porterville,  

near Cape Town in South Africa   

   

(If you mouse over brown text, it turns shriek pink. 

Those are my links)

Earth day books

Which are the three books that inspired you to be green? – asks The Sage Butterfly. The 3, that influenced me most, are the legendary ones. Unread, not yet read … but they have the power to inspire me.

Hoopoes from Feathers in Knysna

We lived in Hoopoe Avenue. Too many ‘gardens’ of lawn, lollipops, paving patio pool. I saw my first living hoopoe, behind the Ungardener’s shoulder, as the day turned to evening. We were sitting overlooking the vlei at the De Hoop Reserve. In Porterville, every stroll, we see a few hoopoes, digging for bugs.

Selborne

I was surprised by joy, when the New Scientist showed a stained glass window – St Francis preaching to the birds. The Gilbert White memorial window in Selborne church. We went to see that window. And Gilbert White’s house. Where I walked into his study, and apologized for disturbing an elderly grey haired gentleman, his back to me, gazing out at his garden. For a moment, Gilbert White lived. His book – The Natural History of Selborne – was published in 1789. That observation, of living plants and creatures in their natural environment, is what calls to me. Unread – this book has pointed me to ‘For Wildlife’.

Bathing birds in our wildlife garden

Then there is Thoreau’s Walden. I will be following Rosemary Washington exploring Thoreau on Thursdays. I have been on a virtual walk around Walden Pond. This book, again unread, inspires me to the living landscape aspect. The turn your back on common or garden, and think about the creatures and plants which have been bulldozed aside, to build your home.

Walden

Finally, Doug Tallamy Bringing Nature Home. A legend, hear his own words, in his own voice. So we gardeners for wildlife read voraciously. What are MY birds, THEIR plants, THEIR bugs? What will survive and flourish in MY climate, MY soil, MY water regime?

Tecomaria for nectar for our sunbirds

On the other hand, three books I have read. With itsnotworkitsgardening I read futuristic SF novels, what could be, what will be, what – a few years later – no longer seems futuristic, because it IS now so.

The First SF book is Dune by Frank Herbert. I was lost on another world, when we had a TV version. On that dry planet, when a man or woman died, the water in their body was reverently harvested and returned to the tribe.

Do you remember Soylent Green? Is that the book that ends with a small child saying – Look Mama – a grass blade coming up thru a crack in the concrete?  And mama grabs the child’s hand and hurries away from something unmentionable, forbidden. Green life and nature defiantly reasserting itself against us.

The last of this trio is Sheri S. Tepper Grass. That I read when we were at the Wilderness. The chalets are built on stilts, with a balcony overlooking tall reeds and I looked down on people in canoes paddling along narrow ‘paths’ thru the reeds. 

Heart stones, a gift from my middle sister

It is Earth Day today. And our parliament has declared a moratorium on Fracking in the Karoo!!!  

Pictures by Diana and Jurg,
words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

- wildlife gardening in Porterville,  

near Cape Town in South Africa   

   

(If you mouse over brown text, it turns shriek pink. 

Those are my links)

Mare’s Tails – a story of grass

Chapter 1

We visit open gardens, for a change of scenery, Tapetenwechsel. We visit gardens, subconsciously looking for ideas, I like that, we could do that, I must have that plant. October 2006, I took the new camera (the dearly departed Canon) to Klein Optenhorst, Jenny Ferreira’s garden in Wellington. 2006 with the flower club, October 2007 and March 2009 with the Ungardener. Imagine a ‘stately home’ - both the house and the olive tree have a long history. Where we battle with the summer heat, she has tall oaks throwing some shade, and two large farm dams catch the river flowing down from the mountains. Shade and water. And her international collection of sage/Salvia.

Klein Optenhorst 2006

Klein Optenhorst 2007

In front of the house, I found the Italian arum, with marbled leaves. That is still on my wish list. From the house, the garden sweeps down to the ponds and the borrowed scenery – done here with a skilful and polished hand. There is a terrace, a golden sun-kissed afternoon, somewhere on the Mediterranean, ‘Enchanted April’. Along the winding gravel path I found clumps of lime and gold Mare’s Tails grass. **When I Google for the Latin name, I  get pictures of cloud formations, and my label is long since gone.

Borrowed scenery

My grass, at Klein Optenhorst

Mare's Tails

Chapter 2

November brings Elgin Open Gardens (look out for 2011 list). Back again to 2009. We went to Fairholme wholesale nursery. Came away with lavenders, a dark, a pink, and a now gone white. There I found my Mare’s Tails, chatting to the Duncan, about seeing it in Jenny Ferreira’s garden – oh yes, we share a lot of plants!

Fairholme

I am drawn to the dark drama of trees, and shrubs with deep burgundy chocolate wine-dark leaves. Can’t always lay on the stormy sky, but the feeling is there. One garden with a huge circular lawn and 2 or 3 er maples?

The Dark Side at Elgin

This, which is 10/10 garden, is the winding driveway TO Fresh Woods, the garden of Barbara Knox-Shaw, who organises the Elgin Open Gardens.

To Fresh Woods

When you reach the – yes dear it’s very nice, Good Grief, not another pink and white garden – point … it is refreshing to find a smaller, quirky garden. Used in part to display the works of a potter. When we first saw her works for sale – I was delighted that each one has a face, a unique face. Yes, says she, someone came in and said – Ooh Look, there’s Uncle George!

Pottery at Elgin

We tried this, trailing ivy pelargoniums to cover the pond edge. Of the half dozen we planted, perhaps one ghostly remnant survives.

Ivy-leaved Pelargonium to cover pond edge

Chapter 3

We have the Mare's Tails, mama bear, papa bear, and also Goldilocks and her tiny baby sister. We have The Dark Side (Autumn Fire) in my Paradise, And Roses garden. I have enjoyed reminding myself where that inspiration came from. And we have long-lost Uncle George swimming in Ungardening Pond.

My bucket list has The High Line on it. As Victoria's daughter said 'It's grass, mum. Get over it'.

These pictures are ours, but the gardens are NOT!


**PS Oh no. If I Google pony tail, get to Mexican Feather Grass ... comes from Argentina. An invasive alien, in the USA, Australia and South Africa.

Pictures by Jurg and Diana,

words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

- wildlife gardening in Porterville,  

near Cape Town in South Africa   

   

(If you mouse over brown text, it turns shriek pink. 

Those are my links)

Life returns to Ungardening Pond

Little by little we are refilling the pond, after relining it. And how immediately life returns. The frogs have been with us, their lives lived out hunting crickets in the mulch layer we try to cover the garden in. A blur of movement, and a frog emerges as the watering can shower disturbs him. We heard reed frogs clicking in the afternoon, frogs croaking and raucous toads bellowing at night. Now there are tadpoles, drawing back our kingfishers (waiting on better pictures, but the birds are back at long last)

Ungardening Pond in autumn

This month’s photography contest at gardeninggonewild is themed around light. Deadline is 24th April! I took this photo one autumn morning (before the contest) because the light was magical. After a summer, when the sun was something I moved briskly to evade, this is balm and balsam, illuminating fresh green leaves, reflecting off a new water surface. (But the picture is just a snap for me).

We have teeming hordes of dragonflies. Take time out and see, the more you look, the more varieties there are. The damsels have been slower to return. Standing, as they do, with the tail up, is called skypointing. Done to keep cool apparently, so they say.

Blue dragonflies

Such luminous glowing peacock blue beauty. And what big eyes you have, my dear!

Blue dragonfly

Meredith from Greatstems writes on the circle of life. We gaze down thru the pond water, to see a large frog almost camouflaged, and he devours a land snail, which went a little too far into the water. And they will each, in their turn be devoured by the water snails. Hope they are in there somewhere. We tided them over in the baby baths, but haven’t seen any in the pond yet??

Circle of life

The largest is the Blue Emperor, but these fat red ones are the most striking.

Red dragonfly

So too the wagtails have resumed their promenade along the shores of the ‘lake’, collecting dinner. Taking time out for a really thorough cleanse and polish.

Wagtail bathing

You can almost hear him saying Yee-hah as he dives in.

About to go under ...

Nothing is still, except the water drops, frozen in motion. Every feather on the bird in blurred motion.

Still water

Finally the next generation of the Lil Cuss, one of our pin-tailed whydahs, before he grows the long tail and the crabby Ruler of the World burden it carries.

Young pin-tailed whydah

At the end of a long hot afternoon, Spirulino’s flock line up on the branches, then the shore, in relays for bath time.

Fifteenth of the month is Garden Bloggers Bloom Day. I collected my foreign flowers for the previous post, then joined, 6 of us so far, at Gesine’s Seepferds-Garten Garten-Blogger-Bluten-Tag-im-April. (She has a Translator Button, top right, so language is no barrier)

Pictures by Jurg, and Diana,

words by Diana of Elephant's Eye

- wildlife gardening in Porterville,  

near Cape Town in South Africa   

   

(If you mouse over brown text, it turns shriek pink. 

Those are my links)

April flowers, not from around here

As I walk the garden, I know whether that plant is commonorgarden / exotic / alien / foreign. Those are the plants I look at for this mid-month garden walk. Since I’m talking about foreign plants I will hook up with Gesine’s German Garten-Blogger-Bluten-im-April for the 15th. Do join us!

Aeonium 'Moroccan rose'

Turning to autumn South African plants whose home is on the east, summer rainfall side of our country, heave a sigh of relief and burst into bloom. Those are the in your face plants now. Which I will show you on Wildflower-Wednesday for the 27th. The commonorgarden will be leaning heavily on roses. When there are roses, to lean on. I have picked about a dozen. One. By one. But the rose garden is looking thoughtful.

Perfume Passion, Great North
Burning Sky, 'apricot'

The newer varieties are better able to deal with the shock of, our roots are in the cooler Northern hemisphere you know. The only one who has learnt Roses 101 – keep your leaves lush and green to shade your stems in summer – is Perfume Passion. That bush stands shoulder to shoulder with me, covered in leaves. Great North has decided, after years, to send up a vigorous new sprout from the base. Fragile nameless inherited and transplanted apricot, is also saying OK and sprouting up.

Tropical Sunset, Courvoisier
'Anna's Red', Sheila's Perfume

We have Anna’s Red, a Sheila’s Perfume which has come out single but gloriously shaded, an opening bud on Courvoisier (cut and brought into the kitchen to enjoy, they smell luscious, of ripe fruit), and a twirl on top of the Tropical Sunset bud. I continue to water all 33, but I wonder if Tiny Tots, Maverick, Nicole and Spiced Coffee, Silver Cloud – will return from the dead.

The other/foliage half of my Persian garden story
The Dark Side,  glaucous blue-grey
gold and velvety silver

Prunus nigra

Trying to learn from mistakes, perhaps we won’t replace the unhappy roses. But will instead develop the other part of the Paradise garden idea. The four different colours of foliage, four rivers of Paradise in a Persian garden. The velvety silver, the gold, the Dark Side, the glaucous blue-grey. 

Guava, giant/Spanish reeds
pecan, Pride of India (from China) 

Australian brush cherry, guava
pecan

Most of our edibles, fruit trees and herbs, are aliens. Australian brush cherry. American pecan. Tropical American guava.

Aeonium, Echeveria
lemon verbena, Salvia greggei

My sole South American – lemon verbena. Echeveria – the Mexican rose, named for a Mexican botanical artist.  Echeveria and Aeonium, both crassulas, but the Aeonium is from Morocco. Flaming pink Salvia greggei, keeping the pecan company in North America.

Abelia

Abelia, another Mexican – I have loved, with its delicate shell pink bells and glossy pointed leaves – since I first explored the garden, secateurs in hand, looking for something to enjoy in a vase.

Where does that plant come from? My source is usually – Kristo Pienaar’s The South African What Flower is that?

If using Google Reader or email, and once were, are or will be a Blotanist, sometime in April, please click thru to the blog. On the sidebar are four questions. If you agree with the consensus, add your weight. If you disagree, make your opposition visible.

13 to 3

-         in favour of Blotanical Awards being reinstated this year,

-         agree we should be active on Blotanical to qualify for an award,

-         want 2 or 3 nominations up front.

12 to 3 agree that it is more fun if each blog can only win one award.

Yes? No?

Pictures and words 

by Diana of Elephant's Eye

- wildlife gardening in Porterville,  

near Cape Town in South Africa   

   

(If you mouse over brown text, it turns shriek pink. 

Those are my links)