“Like parenting, the job of gardening is never done. There are mistakes and rewards, heavy responsibilities and sometimes grief.” – Christine McCabe.
Living fairly close to the wild as I do, one has quite a few gardening frustrations. For instance, I am denied the pleasure of growing fruit and vegetables, for fear of attracting baboons.
Now, too, I have finally given up on parsley – it is a magnet for a porcupine that has lately resumed his nocturnal invasions. How shattering it was to discover, early one morning, a cherished, thriving pot of Italian parsley wilted and scattered all over one’s balcony, after this huge rodent (Africa’s largest) had devoured its roots! Nothing left but to sadly sweep up the soil and wash the leaves before storing them safely in the freezer.
Guinea fowl, too, cause grief by scratching up newly-planted seedlings or creating dust baths in one’s lawn.
But the creature that causes me to grind my teeth in rage is far smaller than all these. It is the tip-wilter bug, commonly known as the stink bug, for obvious reasons. This insect seems to use my bed of sweet-smelling rose geraniums as its nursery, then swoops up the terraces to suck the sap from my rosebuds. I wage constant war against it, checking geraniums and roses daily for the grey-brown creatures and their beige offspring. Hosing down plants is generally effective in luring them, bedraggled, from their hiding place, to be squashed underfoot by an enraged gardener.
In Britain, molluscs (snails and slugs) head the list of unpopular pests. In country areas, I should think rabbits would take their place, for they can cause widespread devastation on just one visit.
But enough of these woeful matters. Turning to sources of delight, I must mention a beautiful orange begonia with pointed petals I was given in December, and is still flowering three months later. It is called Million Kisses. Two other begonias that are seldom without flowers are Dragon Wings, which is available in red or salmon pink, and Big Boy, which has white or pink blooms and lighter green foliage. These easy-to-grow, colourful plants are rewarding additions to a sheltered patio.
Another joy has been a gardening book I was given - Mirabel Osler’s A Gentle Plea for Chaos. Published in 1989, it makes a strong statement against regimented, stiff styles in gardens and strikes a chord with me. I, too, tend to prefer gentle, flowing lines and as little constriction as possible.
I recently discovered fellow feeling in my five-year-old granddaughter, who, on a visit from Rustenburg, stepped on to our balcony and exclaimed: “This is the beautifullest garden in the whole world!”
No doubt the sparkling sea backdrop and the bees, butterflies and birds flitting joyously about added to her appreciation.
We decided to make a Fairy Garden in a lower secluded terrace, screened and sheltered by trees, frangipani and hibiscus. Together with her little sister, we carried down a stone rabbit weathered with age, a large green chameleon sculpted on a log, a frog on a pole and two lifelike tortoises. Now we just need butterflies, dragonflies, and fairies to complete the picture. Perhaps even an out-of-fashion gnome? - Cape Argus