20 September 2013



September 2013, and it's still raining!

The garden is ecstatic, except for the veggie patch, which is sodden.  The broccoli hasn't turned a hair, but the root vegetables are not so thrilled.

The garden is a mass of Spring blooms, especially the bulbs.  I have managed to reduce the yellows by culling many of the yellow daffodils and replacing with some gorgeous white ones.  Dotted around are pink and purple anenomes, snow drops and jonquils (especially Paper White and Erlicheer).  What is left of the  ranunculi after a pesky rabbit savaged them, are in bud.

The 'piece de resistance' is the white Magnolia Soulangiana, a mass of blooms this year because there were few frosts- another advantage of the rain.



One's attitude to rain is certainly modified following a prolonged drought!  After eight years of minimal rainfall and the very dry winter and spring of 2012, this rain is so beautiful!

The dam is nearly full and the garden is brimming with blossoms and flowering bulbs that have beaten the gun on Spring.

The river is flowing at near-capacity and our water hole is full.

The mist on the river in the early morning is magical.

Beside the river we wend our way along the 'Kangaroo Highway', our feet crunching on the icy grass in the early morning light.

Pockets of sadness: Growing more dogs

There is another little of pocket of sadness in our garden, where Joplin, "Joppie", resides.

Jop was walking with us one day, down to the dam beside the bee hives.  We had visitors and we were showing them around.  Joppie rushed down in front of us with a visiting dog.  They disappeared into the bushes.

On our way back, Joppie was very slow, but as she was thirteen, we weren't particularly concerned.

However, when we returned to the house, Jop went to the shed and started screaming, then collapsed.

We rushed her to the vet, where she was given antivenene for snake bite, as this was the most likely cause of her symptoms.  She died soon after.  My heart was broken and the boys dug a large hole in the rock-hard clay to bury her.  There was practically no garden then.  My sister planted a small garden around her, an extension of a tiny patch that had been planted by the previous owner.

A tatty old wallflower resided in this garden and over the months it grew into a wonderful thriving bush.  My daughter Leah, who has a delicious black sense of humour, commented "Mum!  You've got to plant more dogs!"

Well, sadly, now we have.

Joplin's wallflower - thriving above a planted dog.

19 September 2013

Pockets of sadness

Our garden is full of happiness- birds singing, bees buzzing and humans at peace with the world.

However, within the garden are pockets of sadness.  Our 'grand dog' Lily has died, aged only seven.  She developed a tumour on her spine and with a negative reaction to drugs which made her very ill and the pain of the tumour, it was decided that she should go to doggie heaven.

Lily was loved by the whole family.  She was so gentle and loving, but also such fun, doing her 'spazz dogs', rushing around in circles with delight.

She spent a great deal of her life at 'Greenlion', racing around or sleeping beside us while we gardened.

She loved walking with us to the river, eating the odd bit of kangaroo poo and fossicking through the grasses.

When we sat outside with a cuppa, she crossed her front paws in the most endearing way and placed her head on our feet.

Now, Lily resides at the edge of the front garden, looking down into the river valley.  We took some time to choose the best spot- the place with the best view.

We buried her with rosemary for remembrance, daffodils for brightness, daphne for sweetness and blood and bone to fill her doggy heart with joy.
It's hard in the morning, when we are not greeted by a happy dog, tail wagging in anticipation of the morning walk.

Vale, Lil.