There is one striking plant around these plants that I never tire of looking at and was keen to plant in our garden. The distinctive Xanthorrhoea preissii or Australian Grass Trees are called Balga in the local indigenous Nyungar language (sometimes also spelt Noongar, Nyoongar, Nyoongah, Nyungah, or Noonga) and are common in bushland here as well as in gardens and public plantings.
The one above is in a front garden in Dawesville, the ones flowering below are in bushland near Dunsborough,
and here are some spotted alonside the Bibbulmun Track near Dwellingup.
I've seen Balga trees set alight as part of Nyungar "Welcome to Country" ceremonies and I know of gardeners who either trim or set their tall Balga trees alight every few years to keep the accumulation of thatch down. They can survive all but the fiercest of bushfires like this trouper near the town of Harvey.
We know a local artist who collects the resin from the trunks of burnt trees, crushes it then mixes it with solvent to create an amber lacquer (complete with impurities) which she then pours and paints onto canvases.
Balga trees are very slow-growing and very long-lived (up to 600 years) so when land is cleared for housing developments they are often salvaged and sold. The success rate for transplanted trees is apparently quite low unless a huge chunk of soil is taken with them, which of course makes the whole process very expensive. Even the ones that do eventually thrive can go through a startling Ugly Duckling phase while settling in.
I had already decided that much as I wanted one of these trees in our garden, I couldn't be bothered with the expense and hassle of a transplanted one. Then I was given some Balga seeds. I sowed them recently and now I no longer need to covet the beautiful Balga in other people's gardens as I am the proud owner of 36 trees of my own.
After reading one of our plant books I did some calculations. I discovered that a) when I am 85 I'll have to make a decision about trimming, burning or just leaving the build-up of thatch, and b) when I am 135 those trees and I will be about the same height.
As I am sure you have gathered by now, one of my favourite things to do is explore new places. But lately lining up opportunities to go exploring for more than a day-trip has been impossible; four people's various work, school and other commitments meant we didn't even have a clear weekend for months. Finally these last school holidays we all managed to get away together for five days.
We made our first visit to Albany which is a city of approx 33,000 people down on the south coast of WA. Whenever I asked people about Albany the first thing they would do was correct my pronunciation of the city's name (I was saying All-bany and the only way I could make the local pronunciation stick in my brain was to think of Albi the racist dragon). The second thing they would say was "Oh it is cold there. Pack your warm clothes."
Well, I have lived in Christchurch, Wellington and London and I'm not scared of cold weather. But I began to get an inkling that there was far more to Albany than just cold temperatures as friends here are forever "popping down to Albany for a few days". We needed to see for ourselves so we booked four nights in an inner city apartment, packed our (mothballed) warm clothes, and got on the road.
Not much to say about the trip there. Takes about 5 hours by the most direct route which is deadly-dull. But the second we clapped eyes on Albany I could see the attraction. It reminded me of a cross between Lyttelton, Wellington and Dunedin, which are all places I love. The mix of hills, history and harbour were wonderfully familiar and welcoming. It made me realise just how alien the architecture, landscape and general style of Mandurah still feels to me.
We couldn't wait to get out exploring so quickly unpacked, put on walking shoes and raincoats and walked out the door. I was so busy enjoying the place that I didn't bother taking many photos, but imagine dozens of secondhand shops (and I am severely deprived of these living in Mandurah), a wonderfully walkable downtown area framed by craggy peaks on either size, packed with dishy designer boutiques and surrounded by quaint historic homes with front verandahs almost on the footpath. We jammed a huge amount into our visit and even decided to save our planned excursions to neighbouring towns for another time so we could spend more time in Albany.
Albany's newish (Dec 2010) entertainment centre is pretty stunning. My partner spent time there meeting the management then we all went to a show there one evening. It is statement architecture and quite controversial but we loved it. It is right on the waterfornt and is part of an extensive planned waterfront redevelopment. It is a tricky building to photograph as you can see from my best effort below. For better photos of the centre head here.
Markets. Ahhhhhh. On the Saturday we walked 3 minutes down the road to the weekly Albany Farmers Market which was celebrating its 10th birthday. What a fantastic market. Within minutes by purse was empty and our shopping bags were full so we walked three minutes back through the rain to our apartment for a feast. My favourite purchase were the yabby pies. Yum!
Then on the Sunday we walked along the waterfront to the Albany Boatshed market. Some of the same stall-holders were there - and some of us found the yabby pies irresistible again - and some different ones. With live music, wine tastings, artisan craft stalls and cooking demonstrations, this market has quite a different atmosphere from the farmers market - just don't ask my to choose a favourite. If I lived in Albany I'd be a regular at both markets. Purchase of the day were masses of luscious, affordable feijoas which we scoffed in record time. (If feijoas ever turn up in the shops in Mandurah they cost $2 each and are small, woody disappointments).
Other highlights included exploring various historic sites including the convict gaol,
which included an extensive and very entertaining collection of miniature scenes,
and other random curiosities including a boat made out of matchsticks.
We took a tour of a replica of The Brig Amity and found Batman's berth - no not the Batman, just a marine batman or manservant.
And yes, although I often bang on about how recreational shopping is for people who need a bit more happening in their lives, I shopped. How could I resist when the original Ricarda boutique is there? (Amongst other labels they stock Camper, Trippen, Kartell, Margiela, Comme de Garcons, Junya Watanabe, Marc Jacobs, Lee Mathews and Zambesi. Sigh. We certainly don't have any of that carry-on in dear old Mandurah!) I took the newly fashion-aware teenager with me. She has lovely taste in clothes. My purse got hammered again.
We went to Whale World (but whales will get their own post at some stage), on nature walks,
and to beautiful beaches.
I would and will do it all again as Albany is far more than just cold. Albany is cool.
Today was one of those days when I wished I had a better camera, or was a good photographer, or could do the Instagram thingy, or could paint. Or all of the above.
Who knew lawn bowls were so beautiful?
I couldn't really concentrate on the games as I was too busy hoping that the boy with the speckly duck egg blue bowls would have to play the boy with the blood red bowls, and the boy with the solid mustard yellow bowls would get to play the boy with the flecky dark grey marle bowls and...
I know it doesn't work like that but wouldn't it be lovely if it did.
Anyway, grand day out. I'm pretty sure my boy (dark forest green bowls) didn't win.
One thing that punches well above its weight in terms of the pleasure it brings us is our garden. The irony of this is that gardening at our rental house was as far from pleasurable as you could imagine, in fact it was the absolute bane of my life.
But there is gardening (daft) and there is gardening (not so daft). We chose the latter.
We never intended to buy a house when we moved to Mandurah. We intended to rent long-term. But I hadn't counted on our and all other rental agreements containing something that I had great difficulty doing. I can do many things and I love learning to do new things, but I am absolutely rubbish at having to do things that I consider wasteful, ridiculous or environmentally unsound. So what was the thing that my rental agreement said I had to do and that convinced me to buy a house? Water lawn.
Here is a bit more information to put that in perspective. The Southwest corner of Western Australia has major water issues. It is often described at one of the fastest drying if not the fastest drying region on the planet. Speedy, ongoing population growth is putting existing water supply sources under extreme pressure. It barely rains here for about 6 months of the year so water is stored in dams, sourced from natural underground water reservoirs or produced from desalination plants. The Water Corporation spends a lot of time, money and effort explaining the latest water shortage dramas and imploring people to use water wisely.
But it looks to me like the poor old Water Corp is pushing manure uphill. Walk down any suburban street at almost any time of the day and night here and you will see shockingly wasteful use of water. The custom of growing and watering gardens that are completely unsuited to this climate is widespread and ingrained. People here habitually pour copious amounts of water onto even the most unkempt of gardens and the skankiest of lawns. According to Water Corp information, 44% of residential water use here is used outdoors. And given that 71% of water use is residential, my casual observations of what is happening in my neighbourhood tell me that the potential savings are enormous.
And the lawn here isn't even nice or usable. I won't go into detail but push all thoughts of lush green stuff from your mind. Push away too any thoughts of me mowing lawn with a well-maintained antique push-mower while dressed in a floral sun frock and a wide-brimmed hat. Nothing could be further from the harsh reality of lawn (and gardening in general) in this part of the world. The unfamiliar local combo of searing heat/relentless merciless sunshine/flies/mosquitoes/soils of pure sand meant that we had to relearn how to garden.
But advice on how to garden for these conditions was easy to find. My partner and I attended excellent free gardening seminars put on by the Great Gardens team and I went to various council seminars on creating wildlife-friendly gardens.
So here is what we did. Despite being mostly lawn, our large (980sq m) new property was well framed by existing shrubs and trees. Some of these are inside the perimeter of our property and some hang over the fences from the neighbours. Below are a few of them.
And a few more.
Ahhh. I've said it before and I'll say it again, Australian plants and Western Australian ones in particular are gorgeous.
Not all the existing plantings are exactly to my taste but they do provide some lovely, long, uninterrupted views to far distant mature trees. My photos don't do the view below justice but that particular one always reminds me of a gloriously blousy Karl Maughan painting. It has pink Oleander in front, then blue Plumbago, back to a yellow wattle at the back of our property, peeps of the neighbour's orange and crimson Frangipani, right back to borrowed views of huge distant flowering Jarrah, Karri and Marri trees.
The very first thing we did was create a summer herb patch. Here in the land of scorchio summers plants go bitter when they get heat-stroke, regardless of how much water is poured onto them. We needed the coolest possible position so used the narrow strip down the side of the house. A mere fortnight later that patch was producing. We have had so much Basil for the past 6 months that I am reminded of another Fast Show character: "This week I 'ave been mostly eating ... Basil".
But the biggest job to tackle was the enormous lawned front garden. The process was pretty ugly - yes that is the old wool carpet used as weed matting under the paths.
But then one day three gigantic and gloriously fragrant truckloads of eucalyptus mulch arrived on our front lawn - for free. When I expressed my surprise and delight that such wonderful stuff could be mine for free, the tree-surgeon-dude said "If it's any help to you, we drink Corona." I was more than happy to oblige.
Here is what our front garden looks like now.
Despite planting our garden at the wrong time of the year, everything is doing brilliantly. We haven't used our reticulated watering system once; we carefully hand watered our plants and our water bills are tiny and below half the average for our area. Given that our plants will be well established by next summer, our use will be even lower then. And our garden certainly wasn't expensive. All up we spent less than $300 on landscaping supplies and plants.
The paths and funny little birdbaths were cobbled together from bits and pieces strewn around the property. One of my favourite places to sit with a cup of coffee is on our bed as it overlooks the birdbaths. In the time it takes me to down my long black, up to eight different species of native birds will swing by. (I have tried and tried to photograph them but photographing birds is definitely on my "Stuff I'm rubbish at" list.)
Now it is autumn (woohoo) and a great time for tackling the enormous back garden, which we simply weed-matted with all the stinky curtains then topped with mulch. We won't plant anything permanent there as we plan to eventually build over that area. Tempted as I am to put in some high maintenance topiary dolphins, (obviously not my photo. It arrived in my inbox with a bunch of other nutso topiary creations) the heat/sun/flies/mosquitoes combo means I'll take a different approach. And it won't be plastic lawn despite that being a very popular option here - don't get me started...
If two years ago someone had suggested that I would choose to treat myself after a particularly stressful week by heading off alone at the crack of dawn to kayak for several kilometres, I would have said "Er, I think you have mistaken me for another Deidre." (And if someone had told me I would one day own a pair of jandals, I would have guffawed...)
And yet that is exactly what I did this weekend. Monday was a public holiday. I awoke at 6am to a bright blue and perfectly still day: yet another that promised to become a scorcher. My daughter was finally on the mend after two weeks of illness including 4 days in hospital, my partner was finally back home after a week away, and I was shattered after minding another off-colour child and keeping up with work from home throughout it all. I needed a treat.
Had I still been living in London, Auckland, Wellington or Christchurch, then the form of my treat would have been quite different. It probably would have involved gallery-hopping and vintage shopping, but to do those things here I have to travel for hours - and that always feels somewhat desperate. So here, in a place that is surrounded by water and where it is hot for much of the year, I now treat myself to other sorts of fun.
So I loaded up a car and drove literally 2 minutes down the road to Novara Beach on the Peel Inlet. Within minutes I had parked in the deserted car park, had unloaded my gear and was gliding northwards across glassy water with not another person in sight.
I saw the usual line-up of wildlife. As I rounded a point I saw kangaroos watching me from the edge of a reserve. A group of pelicans flew over me, which I love; when I see pelicans fly I always think how the seemingly impossible can sometimes turn out to be not so difficult after all. I saw crabs and blowies,
and magnificent darters, one of which elegantly chased fish directly under my boat. I saw dozens of cormorants.
After a while I turned back and rather than hugging the coastline I cut straight across the bay, taking a route that is further from shore but only marginally deeper. In the distance I saw dolphins, but for once resisted the urge to take dreadful photos and just watched them. I saw several groups of early morning crabbers far from shore but barely thigh-deep in water.
By the time I reached Novara again, the car park was already half-full of vehicles and trailers. The wonderful early-morning stillness was gone, replaced by the sounds of motors, the excited chatter of people setting off for the day and the shove of boats' wakes.
By the time I came ashore the sun's rays were already harsh and by the time I got home they were fast approaching vicious. I unpacked, rinsed down my boat and retreated to the cool sanctuary inside our house - to find the rest of my household still sleeping. As I put the coffee on I wondered whether I should try to convince someone to come on a vintage shopping expedition with me.
To offset the previous rant I feel I should now cover a few positives. It is a lovely quiet still night and I can hear waves crashing, which I love. Coming up over the next few posts are a few more things I delight in.
First up is our house. Apparently the summer that finished yesterday was the second hottest on record for this part of the world, and the hottest summer for 34 years. But the thing is, compared to our first summer here - which was a complete nightmare and drove me quite mad - this one didn't feel so bad. That is probably partly due to us taking the advice of locals and "lowering our expectations" of what is achieveable here in summer; I have given up all hope of doing normal things like gardening or trying to use walking or cycling as forms of transportation during the height of summer.
But a larger part of it has to do with the fact that the house we bought and now live in is a squillion times more comfortable than the design-crime we were renting last summer. Plus our utility bills at this house are tiny. The irony is that this house is much older than the one we were renting and cost us significantly less to buy than that would have cost us.
This is no fluke. After the heat of last summer drove me mad I decided to take action. We chose this particular house after doing a lot of research and reading. Our house choice and renovations have achieved what we'd hoped thanks to the amazing resource that is The Sustainable Mandurah Home, the excellent sustainable housing collection held by Mandurah Libraries and the inspiring and informative content of Green magazine and Sanctuary magazine. While reading for pleasure is undoubtedly a wonderful thing, reading to learn is still my all-time favourite.
We still have plenty more improvements planned for our house (the kitchen still needs a major overhaul and the outside is no oil painting - and for me, buying an ugly house was a very hard decision to make), but I am happy to report that despite another stinking hot summer, this year none of us went mad.
And while the angles are different, here is an idea of what the place looked like when we bought it.
I can't quite believe I bought that! No wonder my daughter thought I really had gone mad.
WARNING: Rant follows
Some years ago I lived in another country and there I had a home telephone line. I never thought much about it. I just paid the bill every month and whenever I wanted to phone someone I just got on the blower and phoned them. Simple. I had my home internet service with the same provider. The only time I ever heard from them was one snowy day when my children had been stuck indoors for an entire school holidays and had used up our internet allocation for the month. Then someone from my internet service provider phoned me to suggest we move to a different plan as that would be better value. Nice.
Then I moved to Australia and somehow fell through a telecommunications crack in time that now sees me with the sort of home phone service that my mother wouldn't have stood for back when I was a girl. These days I spend a considerable amount of my time and energy just trying to keep phone and internet services connected to our house. Those of you who have done away with a home phone line may think that just going mobile might be a better option. But alas, I live in Falcon WA, which despite being in one of the fastest growing cities in Australia, has extremely poor mobile coverage. Neither my home mobile (Telstra) or my work mobile (Telstra) work at my house.
So yet again today I did not have the day I had planned to have because of Telstra. Today for the third time this year, I went to use the phone only to find it completely dead. On the past two occasions (this year, this rant would be far too long if I catalogued all the various problems we have had with Telstra since moving to Australia) it took several days to get the problem fixed. The last time was only two weeks ago. For two days our phone was dead. Then Telstra cheerfully phoned me at work to say that the problem was fixed. Next thing we discover that all our calls were being transferred through to the home phone of a woman who lives in Mittagong, NSW. I chatted to her several times while we were trying to get Telstra to fix the problem. In the end she told me that I was probably being too nice and needed to get grumpier with Telstra. So I faked another case of early onset grumpy old woman syndrome and suddenly it got fixed.
Today I spent the day at home with a seriously ill child, no home phone and no mobile reception. When I finally ran down the road to report the fault Telstra's response was that hopefully someone would get back to me within 3 working days. I said "Er, not good enough" before my mobile lost reception and cut out. Later when I rang to follow-up I was told "They needed to get a part in" as if I was calling from Antarctica! So to all of you desperately trying to phone through with birthday wishes for my son or with exciting party invitations for me (mwah ha ha), I have absolutely no idea when we will next be able to chat. Sigh.
The thing is, Telstra and their gob-smackingly poor service have worn me down. I despair that because of the numerous times I have had to deal with them over the past 18 months, with problem after problem after problem, that now I really do have early onset grumpy old woman syndrome. (I think it has even altered my looks. That's me above, what do you think? ) Their inability to deliver such a seemingly simple service as a home telephone line beggars belief and has left me desperately seeking an alternative. The problem is that everyone I've mentioned this to reckons that the alternatives are just as hopeless. Double sigh.
A big project in Australia at the moment is the National Broadband Network. Politicians bang on about it constantly as if somehow building a fatter pipe is going to change the world. Well good luck to them, but given my experience of Australian telecommunications, that seems like attempting to make a souffle when you haven't even mastered boiling eggs.
To all those people who write to me about whether they should move here (and who I always have great difficulty replying to), you have been warned.
