Once upon a time we had a rockery filled with perennial flowers, or rather, two rockeries on either side of the front gate, planted out with dwarf dahlias and daffodils, low-growing salvias and lacy alyssum, penstemons, silver-grey santolina and drifts of cat thyme that lured the neighbour's cat into ecstasies every late afternoon when it's volatile oils drifted towards her garden.
One of the rockeries met its doom when I planted what was supposed to be a prostrate banksia, but which grew upwards with such slowness that I didn't realise it was taking over the bed until I'd fallen in love with it. Instead of getting rid of it, I surrounded it with taller red, gold and purple salvias to balance it a bit.
The other rockery, i.e. a garden bed with relatively neatly arranged rocks with low-growing flowers in between them, is still there. Well, the rocks are there, at any rate - they're quite large chunks of granite and probably won't move for the next hundred years at least.
The dahlias set seed then promptly died in the last drought, which was sensible. Their progeny have returned. Sadly our miniature dahlias, growing no more than 30-60cm tall, promiscuously bred with taller varieties. A few of the seedlings have turned into low-growing varieties but most are knee high. The grass and weeds are knee-high, too, shading out the lavender, some stubborn saffron crocus, and the surviving pink and orange-flowered low-growing salvias.
One day - possibly soon - our perennial flower bed will be weeded, and then thoroughly mulched, as sadly the bushfire winds brought not just heat but a massive seed burden that will linger for decades in the soil unless they are choked out by other plants or have a thick mulch firmly plonked on top of them.
That one flower garden is my indulgence. If I had a small courtyard garden it would be filled with beds of perennials, as well as espaliered fruit trees, with a single full-size apple tree to picnic under and wandering paths of weathered brick. As it is, I have several acres and somewhere just under a thousand fruit trees, and more bulbs and rhizomes popping up throughout the year than you can poke a stick at, especially as you'd need to part the weeds to point the stick.
Sadly, I don't have time for more than one garden bed of perennials. I don't have quite enough time for the one we have. But if you have time, and space, and a longing for more beauty around you, more bees, more birds, and flowering plants that bloom year after year, this is THE time to plant perennials.
A hundred years ago a perennial garden needed someone pottering about it every weekend, trimming and weeding. Stately gardens needed at least six under gardeners.
Thankfully modern life not only has vacuum cleaners and fridges, but new hardy varieties of perennials that flower and flower for many months, and need nothing but a haircut once they've finished blooming for the year. If you forget about them for a year or six they will still look excellent, though not in an "I have six gardeners who cosset my plants when I'm at work/sipping cocktails" kind of way. If our perennial garden can survive with so much neglect - including no watering at all during drought and surrounding bushfires - with just a small amount of tending now and then, yours will flourish.
There are some stunning new varieties about, too, like the penstemon called "Purple Beardtongue" which gives you an idea of the shape of the flowers. They are magnificent, in several shades of dark purple to vivid mauve, and flower endlessly from spring till late autumn. Bees love it. I would love it too, and might just buy some if the weeding gets done.
I'd also love more cat thyme, Teucrium marum. Cat thyme looks likes thyme, but isn't. It has more flowers, and for far long - all spring, summer and autumn. We no longer have a neighbour's cat, nor one of our own, but if by chance you wish to give yours a treat in return for it staying firmly at ground level in your garden, this is it. Cats adore the scent, and will run themselves in a bed of it, purring ecstatically.
I'd also adore a drift of sedums. I have only ever grown sedums in pots on the windowsill, and they look lovely from late summer through much of winter, with tall purple flower heads above fleshy, waxen blue leaves. A friend lavishly planted a whole round garden in sedums, and they are truly spectacular, especially at a time when not much else is blooming.
The most reliable plants for rockeries or any sunny garden bed are the several hundred kinds of salvia now available, from 30cm to 2 metres tall and in between. Choose wisely and you'll have salvias to delight you, the bees and the nectar-loving birds all year round. They ignore drought; multiply madly in wet years, and grow easily from cuttings - all too easily sometimes, as I found out when I used the salvia prunings as mulch under the fruit trees.
We now have such thick beds of salvias under the quinces, apples and avocadoes which makes it difficult to get at the fruit. The snakes seem happy in the thickets, though they face imminent eviction as soon as it's dry enough to get the whipper snipper out.
That is one of the other joys of salvias - once established you can use a whippersnipper to prune them back. Cut off the tops for a haircut, or cut them right back after flowering for vigorous new growth.
And then there are all the gorgeous prostrate shrubs that love rockeries too, the prostrate grevilleas, prostrate rosemary, or silver-leafed curry bush that scents summer with the perfume of a good vindaloo. Do not plant it if you are considering a diet, as just a whiff will make you salivate.
The real joy in perennials is "just plant them, water them in really severe droughts, and they will grow for ever". The other great pleasure is finding them. Mooch through catalogues and garden centres till you find the flowers you want to bloom with your for ever. And as they are perennials, they truly will.
This week I am:
- Probably not mowing, as the grass is now so thick that it needs at least 48 hours of dry weather or the mower will pull clumps out by the roots. This year, 48-hour stretches of dry weather have been scarce.
- Planting rocket, miniature kale and more winter lettuces, and hoping there is enough sunlight for them to germinate.
- Picking even more yellow zucchini, and discovering from Troy Harrison down the road that the reason my green zucchini have given us possibly six fruit all season is because they are bred for a hot summer, which we have not had.
- Eating Troy's incredibly fragrant mini water melons, which if you are very lucky you may buy at the farmer's market, and which I won't try to grow unless we look like having a sunny year. We live in a narrow part of the valley with about six hours' direct sunlight, which in most years is plenty. This year it's more like "six hours of mist and the rest is rain or drizzle".
- Trying to remember to dig up the rest of the spuds planted in spring before they become an autumn winter crop, possibly infected with an aphid-spread disease - stick to healthy seed potatoes for each crop.
- Standing and grinning at several hundred enormous ginger lily flowers. Ginger lilies love the rain and mist, and this year is the most spectacular ever.
