The transition from winter to summer in Zimbabwe is complicated, and unkind. We only have two seasons, Autumn is a non event and Spring cannot make too much of a theatrical appearance because it's so hot and dusty. No half measures in Africa!!
Its my own fault, with the family spreadings its wings ever further, grand parenting abroad takes up a lot of our time, and this year, for the first time in decades, I was unable to plant much of a spring garden. Thankfully Mother Nature did not let me down, remnants of plants from past years shot up in defiance, relishing my tardiness.
Iceland Poppies scrounged from Jane McDermott twenty years ago, Holyhocks sneakily lying low until there was space, Calendulas from 2008, Primulas giggling their way into the light, Namaqualand Daisies purloined from Bev Fawcett's magnificent Park Road display, shot up guiltily.
We had an abundance of rain last season which may or may not have initiated some sort of blight on all plants bearing leaves succulent and squishy. The Amaryllis, the Philodendron, the Clivia have been behaving erratically and adding to my malaise.
The Wisteria creeper however always makes a dramatic entrance, one minute it is a mass of brilliant green leaves, the next minute there are exquisite cascades of fragrant purple flowers that dangle like grape clusters from woody vines.
The crotons also developed some sort of pathogen after the rains and many had to be sprayed and put in the 'Naughty Corner' for rehabilitation. The rest of the Little Darlings were put to bed, literally at 4 p.m. daily in winter. They are bunched together unkindly under green shade cloth blankets, hidden from the frosty nights we sometimes have. Jack Frost is not coming near my crotons!!
When my dear friend Ali left for greener climes, we took over from her, as 'Garden of the Year' (That was until I saw Lyn Rawlins' garden), then we were crushed back into second place once more.