“What are those phallic looking ones there?” my friend Kathryn asks.
“They’re Echiums, the bees love them. Echium cobalt towers I’d say. I’ve got some in my garden. If you stand near them on a sunny day, it’s so loudy-buzzy.”
“Loudy-buzzy? Is that a word?”
I make a sound a bit like a closed mouth sneeze.
“And what are those?”
“Ajuga reptans. Oh, and that’s a beautiful Acer.”
“A what-er?”
“Acer, Japanese Maple.”
This is part of the regular repartee when we come to one of the lovely public gardens in the hills. I can’t help naming my favourite plants, and Katherine is always encouraging me. I wonder if this time she’s gone too far and is humouring me to cheer me up. Life has been tough and my heart heavy these last few weeks. What I need is a good dose of distraction and humour.
Today we are at one of our absolute favourite places, the Dandenong Ranges Botanical Gardens in Olinda. The displays of rhododendrons and azaleas are nothing short of spectacular at this time of year. Something we make sure to visit at least once, when they are in bloom.
We’ve been to these gardens many times before. Occasionally to picnic with the kids, once working the sausage sizzle at a school fundraiser, but mostly to walk the winding paths, talk about life and appreciate the beauty. What a godsend these world class gardens were, within our five kilometre exercise zone, during those months of pandemic lockdown.
“Look, camellias,” Kathryn says matter of factly.
“Mmm, yep.”
“I only know that ‘cause I read the sign.” I turn and see the large sign announcing the Camellia section, and we laugh.
“One day I’ll learn all these plant names,” she says.
“Well I wouldn’t worry. You know a whole lot of other stuff!” It’s true. Anyone highly medically trained and who can speak a couple of foreign languages has bucket loads of lexicon on me, with my handful of botanical names.
“I need to reinvent myself,” I say, feeling like a walking cliché. “Find a passion project, a new hobby, something else.”
“Yes same,” says Kathryn.
“I’ve always wanted to do pottery,” I say.
“Yes, me too!” Kathryn enthusiastically responds.
So, a seed is planted to go to pottery classes.
As we walk, the morning is warming up. Sun on my face, the immense blue sky and so many beautiful flowers is doing me good.
What’s the opposite of a perfect storm, I wonder? Like a reverse perfect storm where all things enjoyable come together to make something extra fabulous. I tick off some of the top items in my go-to blues-buster bucket list.
Seeing a friend, tick.
Exercise, tick.
Sunshine, blue sky, gardening or looking at gardens or visiting a garden centre, tick tick, tick.
Laughter, big tick.
“Oh look at this one! It looks like there should be fairies living there.” I can’t remember ever seeing this plant before. It’s so perfectly sweet, we stop as I take some photos of the darling little pink, campanula shaped flowers.
“I wonder if it’s a type of rhododendron,” says Kathryn.
“No, I shouldn’t think so.” I reply, dismissively. It doesn’t look at all like a Rhodo. The flowers are like single bells on the end of thin branches, not the big showy mop of flowers of the Rhodos.
“I wonder if it could be Rhododendron Williamsianum?” she says hopefully.
I snort! “Oh. Is there a sign?”
We laugh again, when I discover the tiny little name plaque in the ground amongst the leaf litter.
What is it about friends that get you, and play to your strengths? We’ve all got the party people friends, the really nice to see you friends, the you used to be my friend but we don’t have much in common anymore friends, that you can’t seem to let go. And then there’s the ones who know you, know when to stop asking questions, don’t try to fix things, don’t tell you that things could be worse. They are the friends that you might not see on a regular basis but when you do, you just pick up where you left off. And they are the friends who when you leave, you feel better than when you arrived.
Continuing on our walk, we talk about schools, kids, house renovations, holiday plans, or lack thereof, and of course, plant identification and appreciation.
We’ve taken a different route today than our usual one, but return, as always, by the same path to get the best view of my favourite section of the gardens – The Kurume Bowl. As the name suggests, it’s a bowl shaped hillside, with tier upon tier of brightly coloured azaleas leading down to an ornamental lake. I take more photos, bemoaning what a frightful photographer I am. The photos really don’t do it justice.
As per the tradition of an unspoken rule, Kathryn comments on our luck at living in such a beautiful part of the world, as we soak in the sight.
Leaving via the gift shop I pick up a potted azalea. My plan is to create my own Kurume Bowl in my Kalorama garden. Maybe this can be a new passion project?
“Well that’ll be impressive,” says Kathryn, nodding toward my lone pot.
“What? It’s a start! Shut up!”
We plan our next walk and say our goodbyes.
“I’ll send you a link to the pottery classes!” I call over my shoulder, as I put my one lone azalea carefully into the car.
Plan your visit to the mountain’s most spectacular Botanical Gardens, here; https://www.parks.vic.gov.au/places-to-see/parks/dandenong-ranges-botanic-garden
Or read about what else to do in the Dandenong Ranges when you visit, here https://www.racv.com.au/royalauto/travel/victoria/dandenong-ranges-botanic-garden-victoria-guide.html?edm_id=&cmpid=edm:racvathome:Update:20250130&mid=3008868&sf_id=0036F00002TS80NQAT
Amanda Gambas Author 