Michael developed a fascination with all things Japanese in his mid twenties and so began his interest in the art of bonsai. When we met, fifteen years later, he came as a package deal and his beloved bonsai found a home in a sunny spot under the pergola of our suburban backyard.
Five years on, we moved to a property in the Adelaide Hills and one of the first items we added to the garden was a shade house to protect the bonsai from unpredictable weather. (It did become airborne in one particular storm but, fortunately, no bonsai were harmed. We then concreted the corner posts into the ground.)
Fast forward another seven years and we made the bold decision to relocate to Tasmania. By this stage, there were over forty bonsai to consider in varying stages of evolution. There were strict biosecurity rules for entry into Tasmania, any potted plants had to be fumigated by a registered authority and sealed until arrival across the creek. Sadly, all but four were sold or given away and the remaining plants travelled with us on the Spirit of Tasmania to their new abode. More specimens have been procured and nurtured since our arrival but they have been somewhat “out of sight” in various spots around the garden.
After years of planning and procrastinating, the new bonsai stand was finally created last winter.
The little trees received some long overdue attention with pruning, root trimming and re-potting.
Let me introduce you to the collection. The radiata pine was given to Michael by someone who no longer wanted to continue with bonsai, and the three sticks on the right are English oaks that had self-seeded on a friends property at Table Cape.
Spring brought verdancy to the oaks but, regrettably, the radiata failed to thrive.
The origin of this liquidambar is uncertain (meaning forgotten) but, despite resembling a twig in winter, it perked up once the warmer weather arrived.
We have a huge holly tree in the garden from which we occasionally find young saplings, the perfect source to experiment with bonsai. So far, this one is a success.
I bought Michael this olive as a gift nearly thirty years ago. He re-trained it and it is one of the chosen few who came from South Australia with us.
The ash tree is quite spectacular. Liberated from between two pavers on a suburban footpath in the mid 80s, Michael trained the roots around a rock before planting in a deep pot. The roots were then gradually exposed and this is the result.
The oldest exhibit in the collection is a copse of English elms. One of the original seven died in transport to Tasmania but there are two new saplings growing in the grove and one will be nurtured to reinstate the preferred uneven number.
The dwarf camellia has done well and produced a beautiful pink flower last year.
Perhaps the hardiest of them all is the Japanese maple. Firstly created as a bonsai, it was then planted in the garden to enable it to reach its full potential. That wasn’t to be when the neighbours horses reached over the fence and ate most of it. Reclaiming it into a pot seemed the kindest thing to do, now we just need to find a way to stop the nocturnal wildlife having a nibble.
The Australian blackwood was gifted at the same time as the radiata but has fared considerably better. Several root suckers have emerged and will hopefully result in a miniature blackwood forest.
Dogwood trees are prolific in our forest and Michael took these three from the path to see if they could become bonsai. I’d say it was a successful experiment.
With the Japanese Buddhas enjoying themselves at the watering hole,
the new display is complete….for now.
cannonhillchronicles 