Matariki marks the beginning of the gardening year. In Auckland it was 'wet and whiny' according to the Prime Minister, so anyone hoping to get up at dawn to see Matariki Stars rising has a slim chance...after all, we are the Land of the Long White Cloud and often that cloud blocks out the stars, and brings rain.
A far better indicator would be when the kowhai start blooming, as they are on my Dragons Gold specimens. Some of the are lopped and stunted thanks to Dad's pruning efforts. He doesn't like anything shading his weather station, or blocking the night sky. He's taken photos of the moon and the habour bridge lights, as if in compensation for the lack of garden decoration.
I haven't made a fuss over Matariki as it has come in the school holidays where it's pyjama day everyday. But it has marked a turning point for a new beginning though who knows what that may be this year.
I'm somehow supposed to apply all this matauranga (knowledge) to the garden but so far have been failing as my marama (moon calendar) keeps turning and so far no indication of any change or growth. It's been too wet to prune the buxus, I've only done one bed, my GardenPost lily bulbs I ordered have not arrived, the rain lilies have not appeared even after all that rain, the tangelo needs pruning and feeding, and we haven't been meeting for Garden Club in the evenings. However this Saturday is going to be our day trip to the Wintergardens, and I'm also going to a Rivercare meeting Thursday evening where an ecologist is going to talk about Matariki and Matauranga.
It was Miss Asher's birthday (memorial magnolia tree) on July 17 and she is looking stately and in bloom. I've surrounded her with irises this time though none have bloomed yet. Others who've passed on in the past year include Beth and Jane, both women of faith and my best teachers. Beth's geraniums are still growing and I have yet to figure out what to plant for Jane. Jane had her funeral on Thursday and it seems God keeps wanting me to continue her legacy by being Bible teacher in schools. Despite me being NOT one who naturally teaches. I remember when I first taught I was so nervous I was shaking and couldn't speak in front of anyone. They say 'fear of public speaking' is the number one thing and I sure had it (avoided speech contests in school, never acted in stage dramas, never signed up for talent quests, hated presentations, never spoke a word in class, never wanted any attention to myself, and never got up in assemblies) however that never stopped Jane for believing I had something to offer. I am quite lucky in that I now have a karaoke microphone that could amplify my voice if need be. Karaoke does give you the words to say anyway. Otherwise nobody would ever hear me. Thank you Lord for technology.
The thing with plants is they don't talk. Or maybe they are so quiet we can't hear them. I guess that's why I like them, they have a secret language all of their own. If a tree falls in the forest, and no one is around to hear it, is there a sound? The kumara does not speak of its own sweetness.
I am thinking of a Karaka tree to plant for Jane (although where exactly, I am not sure, perhaps at Edmonton School where she taught?) as she moved from Henderson to Karaka which was a world away (and in some aspects, another town) and that will be something to remember her by. Or maybe a beautiful tree fuchsia Kotutukutu that likes being beside rivers as she used to live near the Henderson Creek. I'm not always one for staying up and stargazing for Matariki but I'm always observing the native plants during the day. Belinda Jane Greenslade RIP
