While touring New Zealand this January with The American Horticultural Society’s Travel Study Program, we were privileged to visit both gardens with a high degree of human intervention and wild places where nature was the sole designer. But we also visited a garden where the owner had used her skill to meld subtle design with the natural environment in a way that complemented both.
Omaio is a Māori word that means “peace, tranquility and happiness”. For Liz Morrow, her 18-acre (7 hectare) property on the Takatu Peninsula an hour north of Auckland is all of those things. What started out in 1980 as a log cabin seaside holiday house (what the Kiwis call a “bach”) became, in 2005, a full-time home. Now it’s not just a ‘garden of national significance’ recognized by the New Zealand Gardens Trust, but also a Bed & Breakfast. And it’s been the subject of magazine articles and a garden show.
But back to 2006, when Liz and her son Johny….
….. whose eponymous deck (aka ‘the gin deck’) is a comfortable spot to have a drink while gazing out at the ocean….
…. worked together to sculpt a garden out of native bush that features a puriri tree (Vitex lucens) estimated to be 800-1000 years old, ancient kauri pines (Agathis australis), totaras (Podocarpus totara), silver ferns (Cyathea dealbata) and many other species. Crushed seashells from the beach, below, form the paths which circle through the bush……
….. while fallen tree fern trunks delineate the edges in many places.
Using borrowed garden hose to outline gently curving borders that echoed the curves and waves of Kawau Bay below, Liz cut into the former lawn, planting both exotics and natives that would complement, but not out-compete, the natural setting.
In the sunny garden surrounding the house…..
….and in the dappled shade near the tennis court are plants like hydrangea that do very well here.
We were all wowed by the luscious mophead Hydrangea macrophylla ‘Bloody Marvelous’.
Though Liz’s massed clivias and bergenias would have flowered in New Zealand’s spring (our autumn), their foliage and fruit still offered interest in midsummer. This is the fruit of a yellow-flowered clivia.
Liz was the perfect hostess, organizing an alfresco lunch…….
….. in the shade behind the house where terraced gardens stretching up the slope offer what Liz calls “a soft palette that’s easy on the eyes”: lots of green foliage with just a sprinkling of colour in a favourite yellow dahlia.
I loved this focal point crafted from a Scleranthus moss cushion…….
……… and the real cushions on these comfy chairs under ferns.
Main function of heart is get viagra australia to regulate oxygen supply using blood flow to various parts of the body. It also releases L-dopa to suppress the effects of prolactin cheapest sildenafil 100mg and ensures harder erection to satisfy your female in bed. With the arrival of many online drug selling companies, you can now even cialis online consultation . cialis: Important Safety Information This pill can cause your blood pressure to drop suddenly to an unsafe level if it is taken with a high fat meal, the rate of absorption is reduced, with an average delay in the effectiveness of the medicine. tadalafil from india Johari Saad is the most experienced tester of Tongkat Ali. After lunch I wandered Omaio’s paths, past the sunny Koru Garden where vegetables grow in profusion in raised beds shaped like the koru or symbolism-laden fern crozier that I wrote about in my last post. In the bright midday sunshine, it was difficult to do justice to this garden…..
…..that provides fresh produce throughout the year. Not visible in the background is a small fruit orchard.
In the mostly green bush landscape, the pohutakawa (Metrosideros excelsa) stood out like a glowing red bouquet.
This was my favourite photo from Omaio, a shimmering kauri trunk set against the turquoise ocean. (Kauris will figure prominently in my next blog on Maori culture.)
The artwork chosen for Omaio is subtle and rustic, like this corrugated iron boat shed…..
Grandchildren must love this swing under the trees.
In a nod to the North Island’s prehistoric past, a lifesize moa by Jack Marsden-Meyer made from driftwood and pururi boughs watches over the path from the bush. The sculpture recalls the flightless bird – this one, the North Island giant moa (Dinornis novaezealandiae) was estimated to stand at 3 metres (10 feet) – that was hunted to extinction by the Polynesians, the first humans to reach New Zealand in the 13th century.
Her “eggs” sit in a nest nearby.
As I came back around the house, some of Liz’s family were returning from a fishing expedition on Kawau Bay with a bucket of ‘snapper’ (Pagrus auratus), aka pink seabream, for dinner.
Rounding into the shade, a native New Zealand hens-and-chicks fern (Asplenium bulbiferum) caught my eye. Note the tiny ferns arising from bulbils on the mature fronds.
And I loved this little maidenhair fern in a pot……
…. and these nests from the birds that have called Omaio home over the years.
A quick glass of water……
……then it was time to climb the path to the bus and head further north to the seaside town of Paihia in the Bay of Islands.
“A fernery”…. Doesn’t that sound enchanting? For me it conjures up damp air, the cool fragrance of earth and decomposition on a forest floor, lacy texture, dancing shadows, and a thousand shades of green. But as a word defining an actual place, I hadn’t run into ‘fernery’ until arriving at our first of three actual ferneries in New Zealand during our American Horticultural Society garden tour this January. As a country with a warm subtropical climate at the top of the North Island and cool temperate rainforests in the extreme southwest of the South Island — and everything in between – and with 15,000 kilometres (9,300 miles) of humid coastline, it’s an ideal environment for ferns of all kinds, but especially the native tree ferns for which it is well known, like the one below growing with kauri trees at Bay of Islands.
Before I begin, here is a little chart I made to try to remember the differences among New Zealand’s relatively small number of native tree ferns from the genera Cyathea and Dicksonia. (Which is a little like someone from New Zealand trying to understand the differences among Canada’s goldenrods…..) The most important things to remember are: Cyathea* are scaly, Dicksonia are hairy. (PLEASE NOTE THAT SINCE I POSTED THIS BLOG, CYATHEA SPECIES TAXONOMY HAS CHANGED WITH SOME BEING PLACED IN THE GENUS ALSOPHILA AND OTHERS IN SPHAEROPTERIS). The three most common are mamaku or black tree fern (C. medullaris), ponga or silver fern (C. dealbata) and whekī or rough tree fern (D. squarrosa). I think I photographed all of them, apart from C. cunninghamii.
So, from the beginning of our tour, it was here at Domain Auckland, off to the left of the reflecting pool, below, in the Wintergardens complex…..
….. under the lichen-encrusted beams of the open-air Fernz Fernery, that I saw my very first king ferns (Ptisana salicina, formerly Marratia). In New Zealand, where all the plants still bear their traditional Māori names, king fern is ‘para’; its starchy rootstock was used by the Māori as food. It is the country’s largest herbaceous fern; in perfect conditions its fronds can reach 5 metres (16 feet).
Built in 1929 as an unemployment work project, the fernery occupies an old scoria quarry carved from the flank of the extinct cone volcano Pukekawa (the Auckland War Memorial Museum, which we also visited, sits directly atop the crater’s tuff ring). During the Second World War, the fernery began to be neglected; specimens were stolen, common local ferns and weeds invaded, and the place was vandalized and used for parties. By 1992, the 1930s collection of some 80 native species from all over New Zealand had diminished to just fourteen. Two years later, the fernery was restored and its specimens – including whekī-ponga (Dicksonia fibrosa) with its persistent skirt of old fronds, below – were restocked. My regret is that the sun was shining brightly on a record-heat Auckland afternoon, creating difficult light for photography. It would have been wonderful to return to this lovely spot in the cool of morning.
Over the next several days, we visited scores of private gardens, including Mincher, the Auckland area garden of Bruce and Angela Spooner, where we had our first delightful outdoor dinner. Here I caught Bruce showing the whitish back of a silver fern (Cyathea dealbata) – New Zealand’s national emblem – to one of our tour group. The root of the Latin epithet dealbata (whitened) is, of course, “alba” for white, referring to the silvery-white backs (abaxial surface) of the silver fern’s fronds.
On our bush walk behind their manicured gardens, I saw my first black tree fern or ‘mamaku’ (Cyathea medullaris) with its dark stipes.
In the Bay of Islands on the northeast coast of the north island, we visited the Puketi Kauri Rainforest near the seashore town of Paihia, Though I’ll expand on that in an upcoming blog on Māori culture, below is a taste of this spectacular ancient forest laced with tree ferns and towering kauri trees (Agathis australis) via the Manginangina Kauri Walk. (Also the scene of the first photo in this blog).
That evening, we visited the Waitangi Treaty Grounds for a cultural show and dinner and I was fascinated by the use of a tree fern frond in this enactment of a traditional Māori pōwhiri or welcome. Here, one of the performers becomes the warrior issuing the wero or challenge to the visitor. By placing the fern frond on the diagonal, he offers a provisional welcome.
We would see scores of tree ferns in the private gardens we visited over the next few weeks, but through luck and very fast walking, a few of us also managed to visit a second proper fernery during a shopping stop in the city of Whangārei (pronounced Fangaray as the Māori “wh” is pronounced “f”) on the drive from the Bay of Islands back to Auckland. What a treat to spend a few minutes wandering through the Marge Maddren Fernery at Botanica Whangārei, below.
Built in 1987, it honours local conservationist Marjorie Maddren, who was on hand to help with construction. She was the founder of the Whangarei Native Forest and Bird Protection society, which donated the funds and volunteer hours to build this enchanting place.
Within its three connected shade houses, there was even a little mossy pond or two.
I had never heard the term “filmy fern”, but there was a purpose-built adobe brick house containing these ferns, which are native to tropical or temperate rainforests and require constant moisture; many enjoy proximity to waterfalls.
Below is the filmy fern Hymenophyllum demissum, which reminded me a little of damp, weeping parsley.
After flying to Queenstown on the South Island and exploring the city and area for a few days (more on that in a later blog), we headed towards Fiordland National Park to explore Doubtful Sound. After a boat ride over Lake Manipouri, we got on a bus to take us through Wilmot Pass in Fiordland, where I photographed the prickly shield fern (Polystichum vestitum)….
….. and what I believe are crown ferns (Blechnum discolor), on our way to the boat dock in Doubtful Sound’s Deep Cove.
But it was in the spectacular reaches of Doubtful Sound itself (blog coming later), which we navigated on a memorable overnight voyage to the Tasman Sea and back, where tree ferns formed an essential component of the jutting peaks and hanging valleys of this beautiful fiord.
Below are what I believe to be soft tree ferns or kātote (Cyathea smithii) growing beneath southern rātā trees (Metrosideros umbellata) with reddish flowers.
And here they are beside one of Fiordland’s countless waterfalls. You can clearly see the persistent rachises or frond stalks of C. smithii, one of the identifying features of that species (along with their notation on Fiordland botanical lists.)
After leaving Fiordland, we spent a few days touring in Dunedin before heading towards Mount Cook. At a shopping stop in the little town of Oamaru, some of us hurried to the Oamaru Public Garden where we discovered lovely gardens with tree ferns……
…. and another charming native fernery, among many other fine gardens. However, I think this structure must be a replacement for the one celebrated in a 1917 issue of the Oamaru Mail newspaper, of which it was written: “The fernery at the Gardens is now nearing its full beauty, and those who visit its cool emerald recesses will acclaim the originators of its inception who succeeded in having set apart for its erection part of the proceeds of two Garden Fetes.”
Christchurch became our base for visits to three spectacular Akaroa gardens, which I’ll write about in time. But the first, Ohinetahi, belonging to esteemed architect Sir Miles Warren featured a small wild garden with beautiful tree ferns. Suspended over a creek was Heart of Oak, a stunning piece of sculpture from Virginia King, who also contributed to Connells Bay Sculpture Park in my last blog).
There were also ferns in this sphere by renowned New Zealand artist Neil Dawson.
We finished our tour in Wellington, where we visited what was my favourite New Zealand public garden, Otari-Wilton’s Bush & Native Botanic Garden. Here, within a vast expanse of native New Zealand plants, was the most ambitious native fernery, an outdoor collection planted in the 1970s.
I could easily have spent all day here….
…… finding new ferns like the lovely common maidenhair Adiantum cunninghamii.
The scene below took me a while to identify, but it’s a lovely example of a plant community in the New Zealand bush. The fern is a sub-canopy climber thread fern (Icarus filiformis, syn. Blechnum filiforme), and the photo shows both its string-like juvenile form and its adult form. The little orange flower is New Zealand gloxinia or taurepo (Rhabdothamnussolandri), a smallish shrub to 2 m (6 ft) and the country’s only gesneriad. Like several other native plants, it was named for Daniel Solander, the 18th century Swedish explorer who, along with Joseph Banks, sailed on Captain James Cook’s first voyage in 1769.
I loved this vignette of epiphytic thread fern (Icarus filiformis) and climbing scarlet rātā (Metrosideros fulgens) – colonizing a tree fern trunk (Cyathea dealbata).
Unfurling croziers like the one below on the wheki (Dicksonia squarrosa) at Otari-Wilton’s Bush are called ‘koru’ in Māori. The koru is a symbol of creation, according to Te Ara, the New Zealand encyclopedia, which “conveys the idea of perpetual movement, and its inward coil suggests a return to the point of origin. The koru therefore symbolises the way in which life both changes and stays the same.”
We saw the koru shape in the Kowhaiwhai motifs on the rafters of the Māori ‘marae’ or meeting house we visited in Bay of Islands…..
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…. and even in tattoos of some of the Māori performers at Waitangi.
Perhaps the most spectacular feature at Otari-Wilton’s Bush is the elevated boardwalk that lets visitors walk above the forest floor where silver ferns (Cyathea dealbata) spread their lacy fronds amidst native trees and understory shrubs.
It’s not surprising that this fern with its silvery reverse that saw it used by the Māori as a trail marker, even at night,……
….. this fern with perfect symmetry, large fronds held horizontally and soft feathery pinnae…..
….. should have become New Zealand’s national emblem. I saw it emblazoned on airplanes …..
……and glass dividers…..
…… and on the uniforms of employees of Air New Zealand. (I asked my cheerful flight attendant to model for me on the way back to Los Angeles).
There were needlepoint silver ferns on the ‘city chairs’ at Government House in Wellington….
…… where, inside, a stylized tree fern was part of the natural history display,
And, of course, the famous New Zealand All Blacks rugby team sports a dramatic silver fern on its black jerseys.
It wasn’t just architecture and design where I was seeing tree ferns, though. I started to see their shadows on the road……
……. and their reflections under paddling ducks. I had clearly fallen in love with tree ferns.
For me, it’s profound that a single plant so captivates a nation – its founding people and those who came hundreds of years later – that it becomes an iconic symbol of ‘place’. After all, I live in a country that discarded its colonial Red Ensign flag after a lengthy debate and adopted a stylized maple leaf for its flag in 1965. Now the maple leaf is featured not just on our flag but on corporate logos and sport uniforms, such as Air Canada and the Olympic men’s hockey team below.
There has also been debate in New Zealand of replacing its current flag, the Blue Ensign and Southern Cross, with a design incorporating the silver fern. But a 2016 referendum defeated that motion by 57% to 43%. A shame, I think. It would have made such a lovely ending to this blog…….
Our third New Zealand touring day began at the Auckland waterfront where we boarded a passenger ferry for the 40-minute ride through the Hauraki Gulf to Waiheke Island.
From the upper deck…..
…. the view of sailboats and little islands was a treat.
After docking in Waiheke’s small harbour, we drove to Cable Bay Vineyards (one of 30 boutique vineyards on the island) for a wine tasting and lunch.
Then we drove around the island, with its spectacular ocean views……
…. and pristine beaches (25 kilometres of them)….
….that seemed surprisingly empty in midsummer.
When we arrived at our garden destination, Connells Bay Sculpture Park, we were met by owners John and Jo Gow. For two decades, John was a principal investor in theatrical blockbusters such as Cats, The Phantom of the Opera, Miss Saigon and Les Miserables. The Gows are also ardent supporters of the arts in New Zealand. After buying the rolling, 60-acre property in 1993, they naturalized the former paddock by planting thousands of native trees and plants before turning it into a contemporary outdoor art gallery filled with site-specific works by some of New Zealand’s leading artists.
Pointing to Rotoroa Island a short distance across the water from their own property, below, John related how for almost a hundred years the 200-acre Island was the site of a men’s addiction treatment centre run by the Salvation Army. When the centre closed in 2005, he and a philanthropic friend negotiated a 99-year lease with the “Sallies”, as he affectionately calls them, to set up a trust to turn Rotaroa into a conservation park while preserving it from development and providing ongoing benefit to the Salvation Army. As well as opening a visitors’ centre, they have launched an ambitious native plant re-vegetation project.
But we were there to see the sculptures, and John and Jo and one of their employees loaded us into vehicles to take turns transporting us down the steep driveway. With New Zealand being such a hilly country, especially near its coastline, most of the seaside gardens we would visit over the next few weeks shared this steep entrance.
We began in the Gowshed, their small visitors’ centre, where Jo Gow toured us past maquettes of some of the works we would see on the property. This one is titled Tenantennae, a model of Phil Dadson’s massive sound sculpture.
Below is the maquette and audio-visual presentation for Vanish, Gregor Kregar’s ambitious work (which is shown on site in the video I’ve added, below). On screen, we see the artist making one of the 160 glazed stoneware figures, left, each a mirror image of himself. In 16 sets of ten, each set painted with a different colour, they range from 140 cm (4-7 inches) to 30 cm (1 foot) and their diminishing height on the site is a great illustration of forced perspective in sculpture. As well, the arrangement of the colours creates an almost Escher-like optical illusion, and depends on the visitor’s viewing point.
Before starting our walking tour, I excused myself to find the washroom. As I entered, I had a little shock — but it was merely Mangu (“black” in Māori), Michael Parekowhai’s artful security guard, keeping an eye on things. Patterned on the artist’s brother, the figure has been a familiar component in many of his works and is described by his gallery as a “stereotype of the Māori male (who) can be linked to after-dark bars, clubs and large events that need crowd control. In the gallery context this work suggests that Pakaka has the power to deny or offer protection… but against what and whom?”
Continuing outdoors, we listened to John speak about Keelstone, a magnificent ‘gateway’ crafted from Brazilian azul marble and white Carrera marble by Denis O’Connor.
Opening onto a path of native nīkau palms (Rhopalostylis sapida) and into the valley where the other artworks begin, the materials are a nod to the horizontal banding of sand and sea, while honouring the 19th-century marine history of Waiheke, when the island’s ancient kauri trees were being felled as masts for schooners. Inscribed onto the threshold is a poem titled The Ballad of Connells Bay:
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We passed Phil Price’s kinetic sculpture The Dancer, which celebrates John Gow’s connection with musical theatre. In springtime, daffodils grow here.
Cathryn Monro’s Rise in concrete and bronze gives both the illusion of cliffside waterfalls from Ancient Mayan ruins…..
….and drainage of the beautiful pond just beyond ‘the rise’.
John explained the meaning of the bronze sculpture Between Two Islands by Paul Dibble – the islands being European and Māori culture.
I loved Virginia King’s Oioi Bridge, meant to echo in its form and subtle stripes and sound the banded stems of native aquatic jointed wire rush (Apodasmia similis).
We stood for a while beside the monumental Vanish, comparing Gregor Esgar’s finished sculpture…..
….. to the presentation inside the Gowshed earlier.
Tomo, by Peter Nicholls, below, is a sinuous ribbon of red in a manuka grove that honours four farming families who owned the Gows’ property (and whose names are inscribed in the sculpture). Hugging the slope, it also references the meaning of the Māori word ‘tomo’: a shaft in limestone or volcanic rock formed by the action of flowing water.
Neil Dawson’s towering Other People’s Houses references the jumbled 19th-century cottages on Connells Bay, but also asks why we complain about ‘other people’ marring the landscape, yet neglect our own impact on it.
Crossed Wires (2016) is by artist Sharonagh Montrose & composer Helen Bowater. According to the composer’s website, it “features a set of wooden structures (resembling the tops of buried telephone poles, suggesting string instrument bridges) with white wires running across them, from which sound emanates.” You can hear a little of that – and the wind of Connells Bay – in my video below.
My favourite sculpture was the majestic Guardian of the Planting by Fatu Feu’u. Carved from a lightning-burned macrocarpa stump (Monterey cypress – Cupressus macrocarpa) and rooted, literally, on the property, it features two faces, one from Greek mythology, one from Māori culture. I loved that this hulking remnant of a California native – criticially endangered on the Monterey peninsula where it’s endemic, but an opportunistic invasive in New Zealand – will eventually biodegrade into the native tree ferns that surround it.
With a nod to Waiheke’s grape-growing and wine-making industry, Chris Booth’s Kinetic Fungi Tower (2016) is sculpted from 16 cubic metres of grapevine trimmings and took three weeks and six volunteers helping the artist to assemble. Long after the Gows are gone – some 70 years from now, according to the artist – it will have decomposed into the property that surrounds it so picturesquely today.
Back at the Gowshed, we gathered around to thank the Gows and say farewell, our words pierced by the sharp electronic beeps of a cellphone tower disguised as a Monterey pine (Pinus radiata) tree in Dane Mitchell’s temporary installation Stealth Transmission Tower (2017,aka Hiding in Plain Sight), which you can hear at the end of my video. The sound seemed appropriately discordant in this beautiful place, as is the nod to a highly invasive North American “tree”, which is a species that the Gows – and New Zealand itself – are attempting to eradicate, both here on the property and throughout the country. The layered meaning fits perfectly with our ecological focus on parts of this garden tour, and is a suitable finale to our visit to the outdoor gallery of these lovers of art…. and nature.
It was the first touring day of our 3-week garden tour of New Zealand with the American Horticultural Society and our Kiwi-born guide (and Pennsylvania-based landscape architect) Richard Lyon of Garden Adventures, Ltd. We headed away from Auckland on the north island, stop #1 on the itinerary map below…
… leaving its beautiful skyline behind us.
Before long, we arrived at Totara Waters, Peter and Jocelyn Coyle’s specialist bromeliad nursery and subtropical garden in Auckland’s Whenuapai suburb. If you can imagine a garden as the love-child of Roberto Burle Marx’s tropical tapestries and the spiky succulents of the American southwest, this one might be it. On a lush hillside overlooking a sound within Waitematā Harbour, we were met with beds of bromeliads under palm trees.
Peter and Jocelyn related the history of their garden, begun in 1999.
There were collections of cycads around the house, some adorned with the Coyles’ vintage planters and chimney pots.
I loved photographing the cones of cycads, including this male cone of the sago palm cycad (C. revoluta).
And as a honey bee photographer, I was fascinated to see them avidly harvesting pollen from that cycad’s cone.
Near the house was Dasylirion acrotrichum or green sotol.
On the hillside overlooking the water was an impressive collection of succulents.
It’s always lovely to see a well-grown spiral aloe (A. polyphylla)….
….and a perfect agave…..
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What a stunning Aloe bainesii.
At the bottom of the two-acre garden, there was an unusual water feature: the rusted hulk of a decommissioned navy ship, the Hawera. The Hoyles added their own rusty art to echo the wreck.
A small nursery onsite attracts bromeliad-lovers…..
…. and also provides an outlet for Totara’s named introductions, like Neoreglia ‘Totara War Paint’, below.
Bromeliads, of course, featured large at Totara Waters, including a stunning Alcantarea imperialis in flower near the garden’s parrot cage…..
….and a beautiful Vriesea splendens.
There was a good collection of bonsai plants…..
….carnivorous plants….
…and what is said to be the largest staghorn fern (Platycerium bifurcatum) in all New Zealand.
In the garage driveway was a restored Chevy truck, appropriate for Peter Coyle, who made his career as a ‘panel beater’, which is Kiwi slang for a collision repair specialist.
It was a delight to be there; then we were in the bus and heading inland to another beautiful garden and our first communal New Zealand dinner.
