Spring: The Cottage Garden Diaries, #1

By Zenobia Southcombe

This isn't a straightforward memoir, nor a how-to gardening book, nor a photo book, but a combination of the lot, written in a personal diary style. 

 

If you don't have a garden you'll enjoy gardening vicariously through my experiences, and if you do then perhaps you'll appreciate reading about the ups and downs of a fellow gardener.

 

I love taking photos of my garden, my progress, and the little things that bring me joy, so the book is generously illustrated with photographs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dwindle River Books
• Release date: Dec 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223061724

Zenobia Southcombe

Zenobia Southcombe is a nature writer, artist, and photographer with a passion for wildlife. She lives with her husband and their very large garden in the beautiful South Island of Aotearoa New Zealand. I love exploring my own backyard and discovering the fascinating flora & fauna that call it home, or finding interesting patterns, textures, and intimate scenes that might easily be overlooked. Sometimes I venture further afield, seeking landscapes and scenic views in my local area. Aotearoa/New Zealand is home to unique wildlife, and I am passionate about sharing their stories - and their value - through my work. Find me online @dwindleriver, or sign up to my free wildlife newsletter at dwindlriver.substack.com.

Book preview

Throwback

23rd October 2021

I've been looking forward to seeing the new growth of spring all winter, but now that it's here I kind of wish it would slow down! The cherry blossom has come and gone, our other fruit trees are in bloom, and the tulips stand out in pops of hot colour at their feet. My husband has just mown the lawns (which had grown, at their worst, well past waist high).  There's a blackbird singing in the conifer behind me, and a little redpoll has just flown by, stopping to rest for a minute on a branch just in front of me.

The sunlight is warm but hazy behind dappled clouds, and there's a breeze singing through the leafy canopy in tune with the humming of bees, which I am comfortably sheltered from in my little spot sown the back of the garden. It sounds idyllic, doesn't it? But for the korimako and the pittosporum trees around me, I could be in a grand old English country garden.

I'm not, of course, though the rural township I live in has a lingering aroma of colonial New Zealand. It's spring of 2021 and outside this acre of garden is the global Covid-19 pandemic, with consequent controversies of closed borders and vaccine passports, not to mention the ongoing crises of housing and climate, and a myriad of other issues that will lead me to an anxious mess if I begin to list them all.

But within the boundaries of this garden there is a healthy population of birds and insects. I can see a growing diversity of trees and flowering fruits, vegetables and herbs and, if I sit here long enough, I can almost believe that everything is going to be okay.

The Birds

The last day of winter...

As I left the house this morning I saw a tūī perched on our plastic orange bird feeder, the whole thing swaying easily from side to side, indicating that it was almost empty. While I am trying to reduce our reliance on plastic, I’d read that tūīs are drawn to the feeders in orange-red colours. During winter we provide sugar-water for the manu which native species like tūī, tauhou, and korimako seem to appreciate. In the wild they love feeding on nectar and fruit, so sugar water is a suitable (and cheap) alternative when the pickings are slim.

A bird drinking from a bird feeder Description automatically generated

While some people frown on supplemental feeding, arguing there should be enough available for birds in the wild, I’m inclined to help them out on account of all the native trees and forest that humans have cut down in Aotearoa New Zealand over the years, especially as we don’t seem to be slowing down much with this trend.

There are other native birds that visit us as well: riroriro, pīwakawaka, and kererū are all reliable visitors, though their numbers change with the seasons. We are fairly close to both ocean and river, so I have spotted water-loving birds like cormorants, herons, plovers, gulls, geese, and terns flying overhead. Also soaring in the skies above our little patch of land are kāhu (and on really special days a karearea) particularly in the leaner winter months.

Riroriro and pīwakawaka are two of my favourite manu. The riroriro has the typical warbler trill, and the pīwakawaka chatter away madly with their distinctive, short chirps. They are both small birds, flitting about the trees and swooping through the air to catch insects. Neither are very shy of humans so I often get to watch them while I work outside. Again, typical of warblers, the riroriro can be hard to spot high up in the canopy, but they are gorgeous birds once you get the chance – an elegant grey-brown chest, bright red eyes, and striking black and white tailfeathers when you get the chance to see them in flight.

We do occasionally put seeds out for the (non-native) seed eaters – finches, sparrows, redpolls, dunnocks – but there really is plenty for them in the garden and surrounding fields, farms, and paddocks in the form of weeds and other flowers gone to seed.

The only reason we feed them, really, is because I like watching them flock to our garden. Living down south (i.e. that’s closer to the South Pole) the winter garden is almost dormant, and it’s a joy to see our feathered friends bringing a bit of life and colour to our dreary garden.

The Meadow

I finally took the plunge and bought a new scythe. It’s an Austrian orchard scythe, apparently lightweight and good for beginners. Last year I got my hands on a beautiful, but hefty, vintage specimen from a local secondhand shop’s closing down sale. It could probably be refurbished to usefulness with enough care and skill but I don’t have the expertise just yet (nor can I be bothered, if I’m completely honest). For now, it will be another bit of cool-looking