Almost three years ago, on a hot summer's day, I had an appointment to meet Fay Gerber in her Emerald garden at 10.00am. I'd been helping Fay for a couple of hours here and there for some months. I could see vehicles near the house when I arrived, a team of plumbers was finishing a new roof job and putting up new spouting. Fay lives in Melbourne and it wasn't unusual for there to be some work or other happening when she came to stay at Emerald for a few days, the house being perhaps seventy years old, maybe more. It had been recently painted and was well kept.
Fay was no where to be seen as I pulled up. The plumbers were making plenty of noise banging, drilling and cutting. I spoke to the boss who said the last time he saw Fay, not long ago, she was on the ride on mower so I walked slowly from the house looking for her, hearing no mower engine. A short time later I saw her bright blue shirt and wide straw hat as she sat on the grass in the shade of a large tree rhododendron, the mower beside her. She was facing away from me and motionless as if in deep meditation.
Fay, a delightful lady about 80, had retained her wit and charm, and was still attractive despite her advancing years. I had known her for over 20 years, and whilst it might be an unusual place for an 80 yo lady to sit on a hot day, she is slightly eccentric, so I was not surprised or alarmed. As well as gardening, her hobbies are wood sculpture and jewellery making, and she is well read and articulate.
"Are you alright Fay", I called out as I approached her from behind, not wanting to give her a fright by being too close when she became aware of me.
"Hello Carey, yes, I'm fine, I'm having a little rest. I fell off the mower, it almost tipped over and my leg is painful. Could you lift me a little so I can move it?"
She told me how to lift her by putting my arms under her armpits from behind. She winced as she moved then asked me to let her sit again, saying she was sure the pain would ease shortly.
We sat on the grass and she told me her girls musn't hear how this happenned or they'd stop her mowing. She described how the mower tipped up and explained she was lucky it didn't end up on top of her. She loved that old mower. It'd been playing up, a few times she'd asked me to start it for her when I was there, and once to get it into the back of her Camry wagon to take to a repair man.
After a while Fay decided we should get her into the house, the back door of which was some forty metres away. I lifted her again, and with her leaning against me, we inched our way to the house, not an easy thing side by side as we had to manage a narrow path with stone edges and some steps. She didn't want to get assistance from the plumbers, thinking there was not really a way for them to help and wanting as little fuss as possible.
Once inside we had a cup of tea and talked about my impending holiday to Peru. She rang her daughter and explained she'd had a fall. Before I left she insisted that she pay me for my time, although I'd done no gardening. I rang her a few days later to see how she was. She was in hospital with a fractured femur, a hairline fracture, but serious nonetheless.
I haven't seen Fay since. She is fit and well. We spoke on the phone recently, mainly about me doing a restorative prune on her precious 'Captain Rawes' reticulata camellia. One of her daughters and her husband comes to Emerald to mow the grass and do gardening, but I often think of her, especially in the spring when I pick dogwood blossom there, or anywhere for that matter. We have two rows of flowering white dogwood at the farm, and there are three nice trees at home, which came originally from Fay's garden. Her father's old trees had low branches that touched the ground some distance from their trunk, and here, kept moist by the their own autumn leaves, these branches had 'layered', that is, developed roots and thus starting a new young tree as it sprouted vigourous new shoots above where it rooted. Fay called these 'suckers'. She wanted these 'suckers' removed, and we potted them into big pots and planted out two rows at the farm twelve months later, nearly twenty years ago.
I first met Fay back in the 1980's, when our livelihood came mainly from growing herbs and supplying restaurants. I was always short of rosemary, one of the more popular restaurant lines, and one of our pickers told me about a row in a propery in Mary St. One Sunday, I saw a lady in the garden as I drove past and stopped and introduced myself, asking if it might be possible for me to pick some rosemary. I picked rosemary there regularly and we became friends. She asked me did I know anyone who would do some gardening for her. From then on, Rick, Max, and Dirk, who all worked at our farm at some time, did gardening work for Fay when they were seeking odd jobs. When Dirk left us after 10 years, aged 25, to study environmental science as a mature age student, Fay leant him the money to buy his books. He's now a supervisor for Melbourne Water.
Fay's property in Emerald is an acre or two on the edge of the main commercial precinct. Surrounded by mature trees, it's tucked away. People driving past on the main road wouldn't realise there's a piece of Emerald history sitting there untouched by the rampant progress of recent decades. Sometimes when I'm there picking in the solitude I feel I've walked back in time. Twisted and gnarled magnolias line the drive, and mature conifers, oaks, dogwoods and rhodies provide the feeling of seclusion and contrasting rich greenery. The only give away is the the traffic noise from the road.
Fays father planted most of the trees. His name was Carter, a passionate gardener well known for his propogation of yew trees. This of course sixty or more years ago, some wonderful old yew trees still thrive. Self sown baby yews come up all about where no mowing is done, and several of these thrive at our house, given to us by Fay in a winter some years ago.
My friend Doug Twaits, who died some years ago aged 86, knew Mr. Carter, and Fay when she was a girl. He told me once that the old pine tree on the lower corner of the property was there in the 1920's, large enough even then for his family to picnic under on hot summer days when they came up from Melbourne. When I go to the garden in late October to pick dogwood, that variety flowering two weeks after the other cornus florida trees purchased from nurseries, I always look at the old pine and have a mental picture of Doug as a boy with his family picnicking there. That's how Fay's garden affects me.
It took me a while getting to it, but my tree of the week is the flowering dogwood. Why choose February to talk about flowering dogwoods? The other day I was scratching around on hands and knees cutting and painting blackberry plants with roundup in the wild scrubby area behind the beehives and I came across two young self sown dogwoods. It made me happy. I've collected fruit from the dogwoods many times and tried to grow them from seed, never having success. I layer a few every other year by pinning the branch down and tossing some dirt on it. As well as the beautiful blossom we also use our dogwood trees for autumn foliage, the colour ranging from yellow to orange through to deep red.
Cornus florida-- American Boxwood, a native of USA, it's adaptable to most soils and positions, and is frost resistant but drought tender. a deciduous tree it grows to a height of 10 metres witha spread of 3m. The leaves are opposite, ovate-acuminate, short petioled, 10cm long, dark green above and pale green on the undersurface; the flowers are small and white or greenish yellow, occurring in terminal clusters and surrounde by large white or pink bracts; the fruitare brilliant, glossy red berries.
Propogation is by seed, cuttings, layering or grafting. The Delaware Indians boiled the inner bark of the tree, using the tea to reduce fevers. (Encyclopaedia Botanica).
If I was doing a list of my favourite people, Fay Gerber would be high on it.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Monday, February 25, 2008
Squish
It's great to be alive, when you can walk in the cool morning air, then spend ten minutes doing the rounds of the broccolli plants, destroying green cabbage moth caterpillars with thumb and finger. I don't like killing anything, I even avoid stepping on snails or ants these days, but I feel no sympathy whatsoever for cabbage moth caterpillars. Rescueing young brassicas from their voracious evil is most satisfying.
I sowed the broccolli seed on New year's Day, along with some spring onions and lupins, whose seed packets were of the supermarket variety and past their useby date, by eight years in the case of the lupins. The spring onions didn't come up at all, but there are 7 Russell lupin plants that survived the heat and rabbit attack and there was a good strike with the broccolli. I gave some seedlings to Huite and Harry and there's about 20 plants in our small vegie garden protected from the rabbits by sheets of corrugated iron forming a fence.
Some of these plants are nearly a foot high and without control of cabbage moth caterpillars they'd be decimated. As the cool weather comes the problem eases, and into winter when the broccolli is still cropping, hopefully, it's too cold for the moths. I try to get parsley, broccolli, and silver beet growing in late summer/ autumn so that there's fresh vegies to pick in the winter.
Thinking that my first broccolli might be the hybrid type that produces big heads and then nothing much to follow, I sowed a tray of non hybrid seed a few weeks later. This is the old fashioned type that gives small multiple heads but goes on producing for several weeks. These plants are smaller yet of course, and not having room inside the rabbit fence I've planted them here and there around the garden. Some have been lost to rabbits, others I put little guards around, and others still are doing well without protection in places the rabbits don't frequent. The dogs don't stop the rabbits, they catch so few, and then at night when they're in their kennels the rabbits have free reign.
I put in another tray of seed last week, which is just coming up, again a non hybrid variety, but a different type. We should have plenty of broccolli for the winter. The tomato plants are massive and loaded with fruit but none are ripe yet as I got them in late. There should be plenty for March and April. There's zucchini and button squash ready to pick and the butternut pumpkin vines have taken off and there's a few small pumpkins formed. And there'll be beans soon.
The pumpkin seed planted on New years day, which I saved from the vegie scraps bucket, came up, and the young plants are growing well, but I think it was too late to hope that they will produce pumpkins, especially as the weather has turned cool and has a real autumn feel to it. There's some shrubs showing autumn colour and there's a lovely lot of pink autumn crocus flowering.
On the weekend I cut up a tree that fell some time ago, and split the rounds for firewood. There wasn't a lot of urgency this summer as there's still dry wood left over from last winter. I'm looking forward to winter, and in the meantime we have the autumn, a time to admire nature and straighten up. And I'm having fun squishing caterpillars.
I sowed the broccolli seed on New year's Day, along with some spring onions and lupins, whose seed packets were of the supermarket variety and past their useby date, by eight years in the case of the lupins. The spring onions didn't come up at all, but there are 7 Russell lupin plants that survived the heat and rabbit attack and there was a good strike with the broccolli. I gave some seedlings to Huite and Harry and there's about 20 plants in our small vegie garden protected from the rabbits by sheets of corrugated iron forming a fence.
Some of these plants are nearly a foot high and without control of cabbage moth caterpillars they'd be decimated. As the cool weather comes the problem eases, and into winter when the broccolli is still cropping, hopefully, it's too cold for the moths. I try to get parsley, broccolli, and silver beet growing in late summer/ autumn so that there's fresh vegies to pick in the winter.
Thinking that my first broccolli might be the hybrid type that produces big heads and then nothing much to follow, I sowed a tray of non hybrid seed a few weeks later. This is the old fashioned type that gives small multiple heads but goes on producing for several weeks. These plants are smaller yet of course, and not having room inside the rabbit fence I've planted them here and there around the garden. Some have been lost to rabbits, others I put little guards around, and others still are doing well without protection in places the rabbits don't frequent. The dogs don't stop the rabbits, they catch so few, and then at night when they're in their kennels the rabbits have free reign.
I put in another tray of seed last week, which is just coming up, again a non hybrid variety, but a different type. We should have plenty of broccolli for the winter. The tomato plants are massive and loaded with fruit but none are ripe yet as I got them in late. There should be plenty for March and April. There's zucchini and button squash ready to pick and the butternut pumpkin vines have taken off and there's a few small pumpkins formed. And there'll be beans soon.
The pumpkin seed planted on New years day, which I saved from the vegie scraps bucket, came up, and the young plants are growing well, but I think it was too late to hope that they will produce pumpkins, especially as the weather has turned cool and has a real autumn feel to it. There's some shrubs showing autumn colour and there's a lovely lot of pink autumn crocus flowering.
On the weekend I cut up a tree that fell some time ago, and split the rounds for firewood. There wasn't a lot of urgency this summer as there's still dry wood left over from last winter. I'm looking forward to winter, and in the meantime we have the autumn, a time to admire nature and straighten up. And I'm having fun squishing caterpillars.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
More Heat, and Honey
After some days last week of cool, drizzly weather, (it was wonderful!) the heat is back, 34C today and yesterday after a weekend of low 30's.
I had a look at the bees on Sunday. Having extracted 5 supers of honey two weeks previously I thought it was time to put the stickies back so the wax moths grubs didn't damage them. I'd suspected there had been honey coming in since I extracted as the bees had been busy when the weather was good and there'd been no bees sniffing around the shed. When I took some jars of honey to my friends Mark and Jane at 'Sunset', where I have a beehive, Jane said she'd been smelling honey on hot days when she walked in the mornings.
Each hive had a full box of honey on it, including the swarm I caught in early December in the cemetery. The hive at 'Sunset' had two full boxes of honey. I under supered with the stickies and left the honey on the bees for another day soon when I have the time and energy to get it off and go another round in the extracting shed. There goes another weekend of spare time.
It shouldn't be happening. Last year's record crop which took it's toll on me from a work load point of view should have meant an 'off' year this time round, but this next extract will be the third of the summer and the boxes are more 'filled' this time than the previous two extracts. And the honey is still flowing in, the source a mystery to me. There's been a few messmates flowering, the few odd trees that didn't flower last year, but there must be something else within bee range. I'd love to know what else the bees are working.
Not that it will approach anything like the tally of last year, but for a stationary apiary, one that isn't moved from flow to flow, it'll end up being a good season, perhaps in excess of 'three tins per hive',** a fair season even for a commercial migratory apiary. But it's not in the tank yet and maybe I'm counting chickens before they hatch.
** Commercial apiarists talk in terms of 'tins per hive', or they did when I was in the industry, meaning the old 4 gallon tins, which held 60lb of honey, or 27kg. They still talked 'of tins per hive', even though they were using 44gallon drums by then. Generally speaking a year would produce 2-6 tins, average 4, of course some years could go higher and the odd year there may be little if any. A good flow on a particular floral source would be upward of one tin, with 4 tins being a big flow.
I had a look at the bees on Sunday. Having extracted 5 supers of honey two weeks previously I thought it was time to put the stickies back so the wax moths grubs didn't damage them. I'd suspected there had been honey coming in since I extracted as the bees had been busy when the weather was good and there'd been no bees sniffing around the shed. When I took some jars of honey to my friends Mark and Jane at 'Sunset', where I have a beehive, Jane said she'd been smelling honey on hot days when she walked in the mornings.
Each hive had a full box of honey on it, including the swarm I caught in early December in the cemetery. The hive at 'Sunset' had two full boxes of honey. I under supered with the stickies and left the honey on the bees for another day soon when I have the time and energy to get it off and go another round in the extracting shed. There goes another weekend of spare time.
It shouldn't be happening. Last year's record crop which took it's toll on me from a work load point of view should have meant an 'off' year this time round, but this next extract will be the third of the summer and the boxes are more 'filled' this time than the previous two extracts. And the honey is still flowing in, the source a mystery to me. There's been a few messmates flowering, the few odd trees that didn't flower last year, but there must be something else within bee range. I'd love to know what else the bees are working.
Not that it will approach anything like the tally of last year, but for a stationary apiary, one that isn't moved from flow to flow, it'll end up being a good season, perhaps in excess of 'three tins per hive',** a fair season even for a commercial migratory apiary. But it's not in the tank yet and maybe I'm counting chickens before they hatch.
** Commercial apiarists talk in terms of 'tins per hive', or they did when I was in the industry, meaning the old 4 gallon tins, which held 60lb of honey, or 27kg. They still talked 'of tins per hive', even though they were using 44gallon drums by then. Generally speaking a year would produce 2-6 tins, average 4, of course some years could go higher and the odd year there may be little if any. A good flow on a particular floral source would be upward of one tin, with 4 tins being a big flow.
Friday, February 15, 2008
The Fever
My young friend Ruby walked up the hill as I was going back down this morning, on her way to catch the school bus. Her school bag was slung over her shoulder and her strong legs worked under her summer school dress. She leaned forward into the hill, her gait identifying her to me at a distance. She raised her head and smiled as she neared, offering her girlish "Hello." I could see she was carrying something in her right hand, rolled up, looked like flag on a stick.
"Nice morning Ruby. "What's that your carrying, a flag, do you have school sports or something today?"
By this time we'd passed and both looked back to each other. "No, I'm going to the footy after school."
"Good on you. Who do you follow?"
"Richmond." Excitement beamed from her face.
"I'm a Demon fan myself but I'll be watching tonight. Your playing the Saints, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Footy's back. The Tiges have been down a long time and I'll be barracking for them tonight. For Ruby. And for Clappo's daughter, who has recovered from leukemia and is a passionate Richmond fan. Clappo, never into football previously, tells me about Kate who goes to all the Richmond games night or day, and her analysis of what the coach says and game plans etc.
I'll put a few dollars on it, there's a small credit in my Lasseters account, thanks to Maxine McKew. I'll put a few on the Demons to knock off Geelong tomorrow too. They'll be cocky, having won the the big one last year, after a forty four year premiership drought. My friend Nicky, otherwise a sane person, had a 'Weg' Premiers tattoo put on her back recently to mark her 60th birthday. That's worse than my mate Rick, who had 'CATS' shaved into the back of his head in the week before the grand final last year. Footy fever!
"Nice morning Ruby. "What's that your carrying, a flag, do you have school sports or something today?"
By this time we'd passed and both looked back to each other. "No, I'm going to the footy after school."
"Good on you. Who do you follow?"
"Richmond." Excitement beamed from her face.
"I'm a Demon fan myself but I'll be watching tonight. Your playing the Saints, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Footy's back. The Tiges have been down a long time and I'll be barracking for them tonight. For Ruby. And for Clappo's daughter, who has recovered from leukemia and is a passionate Richmond fan. Clappo, never into football previously, tells me about Kate who goes to all the Richmond games night or day, and her analysis of what the coach says and game plans etc.
I'll put a few dollars on it, there's a small credit in my Lasseters account, thanks to Maxine McKew. I'll put a few on the Demons to knock off Geelong tomorrow too. They'll be cocky, having won the the big one last year, after a forty four year premiership drought. My friend Nicky, otherwise a sane person, had a 'Weg' Premiers tattoo put on her back recently to mark her 60th birthday. That's worse than my mate Rick, who had 'CATS' shaved into the back of his head in the week before the grand final last year. Footy fever!
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Sorry Day
Without getting too involved, I think this is a significant day in Australian history.
We should look after our indigenous people and their communities before or instead of committing huge expenditure on warfare in places like Iraq and Afghanistan.
Let's hope it's the beginning of the end of racism, inherent in Australia for so long. Racism borne of a colonial culture of conquest of new lands and the exploitation of resources and the dispossessed.
Perhaps finally there's realization we need to find a new way of life and a new way to do things.
We should look after our indigenous people and their communities before or instead of committing huge expenditure on warfare in places like Iraq and Afghanistan.
Let's hope it's the beginning of the end of racism, inherent in Australia for so long. Racism borne of a colonial culture of conquest of new lands and the exploitation of resources and the dispossessed.
Perhaps finally there's realization we need to find a new way of life and a new way to do things.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Gout
The big toe on my right foot was sore all Friday. By yesterday morning, after a disturbed sleep, it was excruciating. I limped about all day, slower in even the most menial of tasks, even bookeeping on the computer. The pain is there with the slightest movement.
Make no mistake, gout is a formidable adversary. I was disappointed that my precious Saturday was ruined by pain, resultant incompetance, and fear that the condition may linger for days. I can see how severe pain can lead to depression. I had to miss my morning walk, the first time for the year. I took anti-inflammatory pain killers and read up on gout in my food remedy book.
Quote- "Gout is a form of arthritis in which glass like shards of uric acid jab into joints causing searing pain. For some, the mere weight of a blanket on an inflamed toe can be too much to bear."
This is my second attack within a year, after 55 years thinking it was something for others to worry about. Coincidentally (or not?), the first attack came a week after I began taking blood pressure tablets mid last year. I told the doctor the tablets gave me gout after googling the drug (Avapro-irbesartan) and learning that gout was a side effect in some people. She told me the particular Avapro I was taking did not cause gout, it was another type. What can you do but believe your medical practioner who knows more than you do and is entrusted to reduce your risk of stroke and heart disease?
The food remedy book says purines in food can contribute and advises cutting back on purine rich foods such as liver, kidney, sweetbreads, sardines, anchovies, mackerel, asparagus, mushrooms, and beans. And to drink alcohol only in moderation. Beer, wine, and other alcoholic beverages increase the risk of gout attack by increasing the body's production of uric acid and impairing the kidneys' ability to get rid of it. Heavy red wines have the most purines. Drinking more water (10-12 glasses a day) dilutes the uric acid in the bloodstream and helps prevent the formation of crystals.
The food recommended to alleviate symptoms is CHERRIES. I bought a big bag yesterday and have been drinking more water. Today I'm much better, only sightly inconvenienced. Mind you I've kept up the anti-inflammatories. Late yesterday I hobbled about picking bay and laurel foliage, which may seem silly when I had a gout attack but the pain had eased a bit, and I had no way of knowing how I'd be today. I planned to work today, to do half of Monday's huge load on Sunday, as it's a big week due to Valentine's Day.
My thinking was, I was so slow with the gout that I should start Saturday. It probably helped me mentally as well as physically, to get moving and make a start. It could be seen as a disadvantage in being self employed, particularly in fields not highly remunerated, that you can't take 'a sickie', but perhaps it's a blessing. Sheer necessity is a great motivator.
Make no mistake, gout is a formidable adversary. I was disappointed that my precious Saturday was ruined by pain, resultant incompetance, and fear that the condition may linger for days. I can see how severe pain can lead to depression. I had to miss my morning walk, the first time for the year. I took anti-inflammatory pain killers and read up on gout in my food remedy book.
Quote- "Gout is a form of arthritis in which glass like shards of uric acid jab into joints causing searing pain. For some, the mere weight of a blanket on an inflamed toe can be too much to bear."
This is my second attack within a year, after 55 years thinking it was something for others to worry about. Coincidentally (or not?), the first attack came a week after I began taking blood pressure tablets mid last year. I told the doctor the tablets gave me gout after googling the drug (Avapro-irbesartan) and learning that gout was a side effect in some people. She told me the particular Avapro I was taking did not cause gout, it was another type. What can you do but believe your medical practioner who knows more than you do and is entrusted to reduce your risk of stroke and heart disease?
The food remedy book says purines in food can contribute and advises cutting back on purine rich foods such as liver, kidney, sweetbreads, sardines, anchovies, mackerel, asparagus, mushrooms, and beans. And to drink alcohol only in moderation. Beer, wine, and other alcoholic beverages increase the risk of gout attack by increasing the body's production of uric acid and impairing the kidneys' ability to get rid of it. Heavy red wines have the most purines. Drinking more water (10-12 glasses a day) dilutes the uric acid in the bloodstream and helps prevent the formation of crystals.
The food recommended to alleviate symptoms is CHERRIES. I bought a big bag yesterday and have been drinking more water. Today I'm much better, only sightly inconvenienced. Mind you I've kept up the anti-inflammatories. Late yesterday I hobbled about picking bay and laurel foliage, which may seem silly when I had a gout attack but the pain had eased a bit, and I had no way of knowing how I'd be today. I planned to work today, to do half of Monday's huge load on Sunday, as it's a big week due to Valentine's Day.
My thinking was, I was so slow with the gout that I should start Saturday. It probably helped me mentally as well as physically, to get moving and make a start. It could be seen as a disadvantage in being self employed, particularly in fields not highly remunerated, that you can't take 'a sickie', but perhaps it's a blessing. Sheer necessity is a great motivator.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Agonis flexuosa
Our friend Bill would be in Perth now, or close to it. Lib and I, and mutual friends Maria and Louise, local literary magnates, had dinner with Bill and Paula at their Emerald house last Saturday evening. Superb Indian cuisine, fine wine, music,(Tchaichovsky, Joan Baez, Cat Stevens) and cultured conversation (ranging from the collection of semen from men and drone bees to American politics) made the evening memorable. Bill, a poet, writer, artist, musician and philosopher with a quick wit is always great company as is his beautiful wife Paula, who is equally talented.
It wasn't planned as a farewell dinner, as the Perth job came up after the dinner was marked on the calender, but Bill broke the news he was leaving the next day to travel by car to Perth to take up a temporary job for three months, managing a chain of 30 supermarkets in West Australia.
It made me recall my one and only visit to West Australia some four years ago. After landing at Perth airport at about 8.00am., we hired a car and drove out into the treelined streets. We stopped to consult the map in the hire car, having no idea which direction to take. I was struck by the clear blue sky and the brightness of the daylight, but the first trees I noticed were Agonis, which were familiar because there are several in our garden and some at the farm which I planted at the same time. I use the foliage in the few mixed bunches we do, but other than that there's no demand for it. I do like the tree, my tree of the week.
That first night of our holiday we decided to stay at Busselton. We were fortunate to find accomodation in a small caravan park as, unknown to us, it was the Friday night of a long weekend and everything had been booked out by Perth residents escaping the city for the weekend. Just as we approached, apparently, there'd been a cancellation, so we grabbed it for three nights and settled in our cabin, which had a large Agonis growing over it providing welcome shade.
If you've been to Busselton you know that it's located right on the shore of Geographe Bay, a wondrous calm natural haven about 40km long where clear blue skies meet the blue green water where dolphins play, and the white sand dazzles the eyes.
Walking the 100 metres from the cabin right onto the beach was a walk through the camping ground and Agonis trees. These had been pruned and lopped roughly to provided campers easy access to their sites, and to remove limbs that might split off I presumed. It was obvious the Agonis would take hard pruning and actually thrive on it.
The next day we drove a little north and picnicked for lunch in a Tuart forest, and here again the Agonis was plentiful as a second tier understory. I talked to a local who referred to the tree as 'peppermints', a name I'd not heard it called before but logical for the strong scent of the leaves.
It seemed that almost everywhere we went near the coast the Agonis was a predominant tree. At one place, out of Albany, on the way to a magic little bay the name of which escapes me just now, a sign read something like "Fire Hazard Slashing Zone- vegetation is slashed to reduce fire risk", and huge areas of foreshore park had been tractor slashed recently. Most of the regrowth was Agonis about a foot high.
The Agonis is hardy tree of considerable charm, suitable for Victorian gardens, and can be left to achieve its graceful natural weeping form if there's enough room, or pruned hard to keep small if necessary. One of my favourites.
The 'Encyclopaedia Botanica' says,
'Agonis flexuosa' Myrtacae. Peppermint Tree; Willow Myrtle. A native of WA, it is adaptable to most soils and conditions, and is drought and frost resistant.
An evergreen tree it can grow to a height of 14m with a spread of 6m. The stem is long and slender, with graceful pendant branches; the leaves are green, willow-like, with a strong smell of peppermint, and 10cm long; the flowers are white, small, and numerous, occurring in globose heads and appearing in spring. Propogation is by seed sown in spring or by cuttings. Prune back annually after flowering.
There are ten Agonis varieties listed. All are native to WA. I noticed the bees working the Agonis flowers this season. Of course there would not be enough around to provide a honey crop and I wonder if such a honey is produced in WA. I didn't meet a beekeeper over there to ask.
If you read this Bill, while you are in WA, if you run into a beekeeper, can you ask him? Maybe someone in the supermarket business would know.
It wasn't planned as a farewell dinner, as the Perth job came up after the dinner was marked on the calender, but Bill broke the news he was leaving the next day to travel by car to Perth to take up a temporary job for three months, managing a chain of 30 supermarkets in West Australia.
It made me recall my one and only visit to West Australia some four years ago. After landing at Perth airport at about 8.00am., we hired a car and drove out into the treelined streets. We stopped to consult the map in the hire car, having no idea which direction to take. I was struck by the clear blue sky and the brightness of the daylight, but the first trees I noticed were Agonis, which were familiar because there are several in our garden and some at the farm which I planted at the same time. I use the foliage in the few mixed bunches we do, but other than that there's no demand for it. I do like the tree, my tree of the week.
That first night of our holiday we decided to stay at Busselton. We were fortunate to find accomodation in a small caravan park as, unknown to us, it was the Friday night of a long weekend and everything had been booked out by Perth residents escaping the city for the weekend. Just as we approached, apparently, there'd been a cancellation, so we grabbed it for three nights and settled in our cabin, which had a large Agonis growing over it providing welcome shade.
If you've been to Busselton you know that it's located right on the shore of Geographe Bay, a wondrous calm natural haven about 40km long where clear blue skies meet the blue green water where dolphins play, and the white sand dazzles the eyes.
Walking the 100 metres from the cabin right onto the beach was a walk through the camping ground and Agonis trees. These had been pruned and lopped roughly to provided campers easy access to their sites, and to remove limbs that might split off I presumed. It was obvious the Agonis would take hard pruning and actually thrive on it.
The next day we drove a little north and picnicked for lunch in a Tuart forest, and here again the Agonis was plentiful as a second tier understory. I talked to a local who referred to the tree as 'peppermints', a name I'd not heard it called before but logical for the strong scent of the leaves.
It seemed that almost everywhere we went near the coast the Agonis was a predominant tree. At one place, out of Albany, on the way to a magic little bay the name of which escapes me just now, a sign read something like "Fire Hazard Slashing Zone- vegetation is slashed to reduce fire risk", and huge areas of foreshore park had been tractor slashed recently. Most of the regrowth was Agonis about a foot high.
The Agonis is hardy tree of considerable charm, suitable for Victorian gardens, and can be left to achieve its graceful natural weeping form if there's enough room, or pruned hard to keep small if necessary. One of my favourites.
The 'Encyclopaedia Botanica' says,
'Agonis flexuosa' Myrtacae. Peppermint Tree; Willow Myrtle. A native of WA, it is adaptable to most soils and conditions, and is drought and frost resistant.
An evergreen tree it can grow to a height of 14m with a spread of 6m. The stem is long and slender, with graceful pendant branches; the leaves are green, willow-like, with a strong smell of peppermint, and 10cm long; the flowers are white, small, and numerous, occurring in globose heads and appearing in spring. Propogation is by seed sown in spring or by cuttings. Prune back annually after flowering.
There are ten Agonis varieties listed. All are native to WA. I noticed the bees working the Agonis flowers this season. Of course there would not be enough around to provide a honey crop and I wonder if such a honey is produced in WA. I didn't meet a beekeeper over there to ask.
If you read this Bill, while you are in WA, if you run into a beekeeper, can you ask him? Maybe someone in the supermarket business would know.
Sunday, February 03, 2008
Remorse
The plumber turned up 5.00pm the next day. I wasn't home, Lib was. He gave her back the whole $260. Lib tried to make him him keep $160 but he wouldn't. She said I'd post it to him, he said he'd send it back. He also brought back the jar of honey. He told Lib I should be careful of my temper, and that I could get myself into serious trouble threatening people.
I've felt sick with remorse ever since. I was justified querying the charge and requesting a refund, but I should have remained calm, even when he became surly and argumentative. I would never try to avoid payment for any goods and services I'd received from anyone. After considerable anguish I decided to the best course of action was to send him a cheque for $160 which I had established would be the fair price for the work. I'd learned this from my plumber friend in Wangaratta, and from another plumber who recently installed our new kitchen sink and mixer, but who was not a gas fitter. He suggested I send a cheque and ask for a receipt so I have proof of payment.
Despite telling the plumber I knew where he lived during our heated argument, I didn't know his address to post him the cheque. So I rang the mobile phone number I had, just after I'd written para 2. There was no one of his name in the phone book in Silvan. He was unreceptive, saying he didn't want my money, he didn't like being a called a liar and a thief, and if he ever heard from me or saw me again I'd be in serious trouble. "Alright, have it your way," I said hanging up.
I didn't use the words liar and thief. I didn't even threaten him directly. I was bluffing, in a brazen and, in retrospect, impulsive and foolish manner, to retrieve $100 I felt I'd been overcharged. With a few words not carefully chosen, but too effective in their intimidation, he concluded there was a possibility I was unhinged and ready to explode like Maria's emu egg. I don't repeat them here, this being a public forum. It's best to forget about it and donate the $160 to a charity.
I've learned a lesson from it. $100 isn't worth upsetting another human being for. Before I engage any plumber or tradesman in a situation where I can shop around I'll first establish all rates and charges before any work happens. I hope my plumber antagonist has learned the same lessons.
On a happier note the electrician came on Thursday to fit the new oven. He charged $70 as he said he would if it was straightforward. This component was priced at $140 in the original Clive Peeters fee. He stayed a little longer to look at my faulty electric uncapping knife and still only asked for $70. I gave him $120 cash and thanked him, saying I was still saving on the original installation quote.
The range hood is my one last hurdle in this kitchen project. I need a cabinet maker as the cupboards need some altering. I've rung one who came recently to cut a new sinkhole in our jarra benchtop. Nearly there.
I've felt sick with remorse ever since. I was justified querying the charge and requesting a refund, but I should have remained calm, even when he became surly and argumentative. I would never try to avoid payment for any goods and services I'd received from anyone. After considerable anguish I decided to the best course of action was to send him a cheque for $160 which I had established would be the fair price for the work. I'd learned this from my plumber friend in Wangaratta, and from another plumber who recently installed our new kitchen sink and mixer, but who was not a gas fitter. He suggested I send a cheque and ask for a receipt so I have proof of payment.
Despite telling the plumber I knew where he lived during our heated argument, I didn't know his address to post him the cheque. So I rang the mobile phone number I had, just after I'd written para 2. There was no one of his name in the phone book in Silvan. He was unreceptive, saying he didn't want my money, he didn't like being a called a liar and a thief, and if he ever heard from me or saw me again I'd be in serious trouble. "Alright, have it your way," I said hanging up.
I didn't use the words liar and thief. I didn't even threaten him directly. I was bluffing, in a brazen and, in retrospect, impulsive and foolish manner, to retrieve $100 I felt I'd been overcharged. With a few words not carefully chosen, but too effective in their intimidation, he concluded there was a possibility I was unhinged and ready to explode like Maria's emu egg. I don't repeat them here, this being a public forum. It's best to forget about it and donate the $160 to a charity.
I've learned a lesson from it. $100 isn't worth upsetting another human being for. Before I engage any plumber or tradesman in a situation where I can shop around I'll first establish all rates and charges before any work happens. I hope my plumber antagonist has learned the same lessons.
On a happier note the electrician came on Thursday to fit the new oven. He charged $70 as he said he would if it was straightforward. This component was priced at $140 in the original Clive Peeters fee. He stayed a little longer to look at my faulty electric uncapping knife and still only asked for $70. I gave him $120 cash and thanked him, saying I was still saving on the original installation quote.
The range hood is my one last hurdle in this kitchen project. I need a cabinet maker as the cupboards need some altering. I've rung one who came recently to cut a new sinkhole in our jarra benchtop. Nearly there.
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