Flowers From My Grandmother's Garden.

There is an enduring memory from my childhood in which a letter would arrive in a fat airmail envelope; with an Australian stamp and my Grandmother's beautifully old fashioned handwriting on the front.

My mother would read it through a couple of times, and then I would be allowed to have a go at deciphering the beautiful handwriting.

It was like unlocking a secret code.

I remember they would go something like this...

"...I am watering the garden every day now... " and she would go on to describe what was flowering and what was looking its best, and there would be all the minutiae of a gardener's life there in the detail.

Evey now and then there would be something like ...

"...Stephen killed a brown snake today and hung it on the fence..." which would keep me interested when descriptions of the colour of the dahlias had become a bit tedious.

Forty years later I am composing letters in my head to my Australian Aunties.

As every new rose appears and every new hydrangea flowers, and the Granny asks me to dig the potato patch and she plants the tomatoes, and we plant some more sweet peas to climb the frames that the beans climbed last year.



And they go something like this...

...Dear Doreen and Kathy,
it rains at least a couple of times a week at the moment, and the equinoctial winds blow outside our shelter hedges.
The clothes dry quickly in the meadow and some days the grass lies almost horizontal.
But inside our shelter belt of hedges, it is relatively calm.







All the roses have begun to bloom.
I pruned them, fed them and mulched them a bit and it's worked wonders.
I really thought they were on their last legs when we came here at the end of last summer.

The climbing hydrangeas have burst into flower and will be perfect as shady umbrellas in the summer.
We plan to put the Jesus table out there under the biggest one under the walk way.
The Jesus table was a lucky find in the local antique shop in Eltham (The Bank).
Barb had all her religious icons displayed on it when we came in out of the rain one Sunday and bought it for the Granny annexe.
It is a rustic French looking affair, round, and the perfect size for breakfasting on or taking outside on summer evenings.
It shall be forever known as the Jesus table.









The Granny cuts the blooms as they become completely open, and fills our collection of little china jugs with beautiful velvety roses.
The kitchen is filled with the scent of them when you come in from outside.

I have never had such a collection of reds, russets and black-burgundy roses.

In my other garden I favoured old fashioned roses in pastel shades.

Here I have bushes and bushes of healthy iceburgs lining the walkways and the sweeping down the driveway alternated with lavender.

They have just burst into flower and have the prettiest hint of pink when the buds have just opened. They fade to white by the time they are ready to be picked.

And yellow. I have yellow roses!

I don't have any stories of snakes to tell. Only cats who plonk themselves in the middle of a patch of catmint and roll around in ecstasy.

What is it about catmint that makes them love it so much?

They follow me around with the wheelbarrow up and down to the compost heap.

This is where we'll put the Jesus table in the summer.

The Granny fancies sitting under the climbing hydrangea with a glass of wine.

And I have to confess I got a "man out from town" to cut the hedges.

Well, actually it was a man and a girl.

The Granny and I went round afterwards with the secateurs and the hedge cutters and evened everything off and neatened it all up.

And sweapt the paths of buxus cuttings and put them into the compost pile in the paddock.

It is early morning here now as I write this and the birds are all starting to wake up.

The sun has risen over the mountain and has left a red tinge on the snow line through the cloud.

The wind has already started. The branches in the tall trees shift outside my window.

Today I will be mowing and weeding and digging in compost for the Granny's potato patch.

And hoping for some sunshine.

In your gardens you can take that as a given; but not here.

Not even in late November.

But I think I would trade that for the possibility of finding a brown snake amongst the

snapdragons!!!

Life's a Box of Chocolates.

... "You never know what you're gonna get" - Forrest Gump.

This post is especially for my Auntie Doreen,

who has been waiting to see what pops up in my garden this spring.

These gorgeous blue irises are my favourite so far.

They are just the most amazing shade of purpley blue.

This week my nephews are visiting from Queensland.

We've had all the bikes and skateboards out,

lots of rugby tackles and chasey on the lawn, and making scones with Granny.

The cats have been conspicuous by their absence during the day.

Everything is coming into leaf and bloom.

Yes it is finally spring!

And hasn't it been a long time coming!

The winter seems to have gone on and on here, but at last things are starting to bud and flower and pop up!

This popped up like a mushroom in the paddock last week.

I've been very busy supervising and worrying about where the septic tank breather was going to end up and weather the cows would get in while the fence was down.

I've also had very minimal internet access (probably due to weather) so no blogging from me.

The Granny has been very busy making scones for the builders so that they will do an excellent job on the Granny Headquarters in a few months.

But first we must get the big shed built in the paddock so we can move all the racing car stuff down there, freeing up the garage to become Granny Annexe.

So here are the darling buds of September at the Magpie House.(No, not these blokes in high vis gear and boots - the green stuff!)

The Granny is overhauling the pottager and has made good use of the cow poos available.

The other projects going on around here are all baby related, as we prepare for a new nephew in Australia.

Cot quilt by me (vintage, just squares and stitch in the ditch),

Teddy and crochet edged bib by the Granny.

With assistance from the Tail Cat!

Spring Cleaning.

A bit of sunshine causes a metamorphosis around here.

I feel like an old lizard having sat round on his rock long enough to warm up a bit and get on with things.

Like some new Granny squares and a spot of spring cleaning.

Airing the bedding and actually getting the duvet cover dry outside on the washing line in the meadow, instead of in the dryer, which is a pretty joyless occupation.

Dusting and moving things around a bit.

And fixing the latest curtain crisis, because they did not survive washing!

Vintage tablecloths to the rescue again.

Necessitated a quick reccy of all the local op shops before they closed on Saturday morning.

They are supposed to be temporary, but they look so good I suspect they'll remain.

Meanwhile this lizard is off to make marmalade cookies for next week's lunches.

A country day out, at Cross Hills.

It was a lovely warm day, not too hot, a beautiful setting - Cross Hills rhododendron garden at Kimbolton near Palmerston North, and I swear there must not have been a Nana left at home in the Wanganui, Manawatu or even Taranaki. They were all here!!!

Except for a few who had gammy hips I suppose.

There were great migratory herds of Nanas. Even some with walkers with wheels.

I spotted a few Grandads too, the type wearing short shorts, long socks and sandals mostly - and sun hats. They are so cute. But why do Nanas let them out looking like that?

Our Nana is a Granny, which has slightly different connotations. They prefer smaller family groups without an alpha male, and do not opt for the migratory wilder beast MO.

They are more your tall tree browsers, like giraffes.



They admire corrugated iron chooks at a leisurely pace.

And guard their personal space when traversing the trail.

These little dresses were lovely, but there were few things that measured up to the Magpie Chic standard for handmade with love and skill. I think Katie and Sweet Mary in the Hawkes Bay have a much higher standard of hand crafted lovelies available at their fetes and markets.

The garden was the real star of the show.

This was my favourite stall. Gorgy shabby chic aprons and shoulder bags.

There's always time for a rest and a sit beneath a rhododendron.