On Friday night my husband hosted a poker night. 25 men from his work turned up at our house, carrying beer, whisky, red wine, bags of potato chips and bags of nuts. They took over the lounge, dining room and kitchen. I didn’t mind. My son hung out in his room gaming with his friends online. As for me, I hunkered down in my bedroom, minding the puppy, drinking white wine, eating a miserable excuse for a vegetable saag from the local Indian takeaways and binge watching Gardeners World on my iPad. I was having a very early night. My alarm was set for 6am.

I had to get up early in order to pick up my friend at ten-past-seven. We had to be at Queen’s Wharf by seven-thirty. Why were we doing this, you’re wondering. Well, we had to get in line and beat the crowds. It was the annual DCM Bookfair - reputedly the biggest book fair in New Zealand and definitely the biggest in Wellington.

By the time we arrived at Queen’s Wharf there was already a long queue of people, wrapped up in coats and hats and carrying bags. The warehouse doors were thrown open at eight o’clock. By nine o’clock I’d found 15 excellent gardening books and was dying for a cup of tea. My friend and I left, passing a long queue of people waiting to be let in. I sure hope they weren’t after gardening books because my friend and I had cleaned out that section.

Here’s what I bought.

The 15 books I bought at the DCM Bookfair.

Here are 7 of the books I bought and a small excerpt from each.

‘Survival of the fittest’ is no more accurately shown than by the changes within the succulent world. As the earth evolved, rivers and oceans receded, causing most plant life to weaken and finally succumb. But there were a few survivors. By some chance, they managed to exist in the drying wastelands, adapting and protecting themselves in remarkably ingenious ways.

Some succulents developed a more compact body, shortening leaves and stems to almost nothing. They became spherical or low growing, reducing their surface area and thus rate of moisture evaporation. Others, eager to arm themselves against herbivorous predators, adapted differently…

The cactus, agave, and aloe grew sharp bristles and hooked, ferocious spines. Gasterias and other flesh succulents developed thick skins too tough for hungry animals to penetrate. Some inventive species produced foul-tasting, often poisonous juices. Others simply moved away from the area altogether; they either became epiphytes (tree dwellers), clinging to moss or the bark of trees, or cleverly hid in the deep crevices of large, protective rocks.

One last group - unanimously chosen the most ingenious - disguised themselves by mimicking their surroundings. Instead of looking like plants, they resemble polished pebbles and old weathered rocks. Only their names - flowering stones and living rocks - hint of their secret, double life. (Sunset Book)

Graham Stuart-Thomas, in his classic three-volume work, The Old Shrub Roses (1955), Shrub Roses of Today (1962) and Climbing Roses Old and New (1965), identifies a great number of different rose scents. For example, in some varieties he detects the fragrance of honeysuckle, in others the scent of sweet pea, primrose, clove or fresh apple. He was, of course, considering the fragrances of the whole family of the rose, including Ramblers and Species; the English Roses on their own, however are capable of a wide repertoire of scents, due, no doubt, to the diverse roses in their breeding. Although it is true to say that no two rose bushes ever have exactly the same perfume, there are four principal categories of fragrance into which the English Roses can be classified: myrrh, old rose, tea rose and fruit scent.’ (David Austin)

The galloping river jammed between cliffs, under the lid of the world, all the forest of the Himalaya in one sweep from sub tropical jungle to the last struggling fir trees, and in the middle the Rhododendron forest tumbling over the cliffs in cascades of red hot lava from the eternal snow to the earth shaking river. (F. Kingdon Ward)

I can distinctly remember delighting in the fragrance of the Hybrid Perpetual ‘Mrs John Laing’ at the age of eight; in fact ‘Mrs Laing’ and ‘Alister Stella Grey’ have been my constant companions since those early days and never fail to give plentifully of their beauty, year by year. There was also in our Cambridge garden another very frangrant rose; it was a bit bush of the plant used frequently as an understock, ‘de la Grifferaie’, although I was not aware of this until many years later. This is often found in old gardens, having outlived the rose budded upon it, and few roses have a more delicious scent in the fully double, almost pompom-like, magenta-pink blooms, borne in clusters along the arching sprays. (Graham Stuart Thomas)

I have 2 de la Grifferaie roses growing under my two front bay windows. Unsurprisingly, for a rose often used as a rootstock on fussier roses, it’s growing on its own roots.

Broadly speaking, gardening is not a children’s hobby. We had ‘plots’ at primary school, where in conventional sex-role tradition, boys were regimented into planting vegetable; girls, flowers. Remember Mark Twain’s dictum, ‘Work is composed of whatever a body is obliged to do, and play is composed of whatever a body is not obliged to do.’ So gardening is seldom fun until one has sole rights over a piece of soil. Subconsciously my feeling for plants must have been growing: a favourite time-killer on journeys was comparing gardens along the route. I had a two-hour trip morning and evening between farm and Christchurch Girls’ High School, involving bicycling, bus, tram and walking…So when homework palled, or eyes grew tired, garden-watching took over. (Jean Lawrence).

The Hybrid Perpetuals are the real ‘old roses’s of New Zealand. The first roses, the Chinas and Sweet Briar, were not here particularly because they were roses, but because their functions served the time. Those that followed during the establishment period were the pioneers of garden roses in New Zealand, but were really traditional English roses that simply bridges a gap, as they were already slipping from their dominance in England by the time New Zealand was declared a colony…Hybrid Perpetuals and their modern French supporters, the Noisettes and the Bourbons, made New Zealand a rose place because of the support they aroused amongst ordinary gardeners, from Dunedin to the Bay of Islands. They were, however, a quickly passing fancy, for they began a trend towards capriciousness that has characterised the rose world. From their vast number very few have survived as classics, and only Ard’s Rover, Gloire de Ducher, Mme Victor Verdier, Victor Verdier, Triomphe de Exposition, and the archetypal Hybrid Perpetual, Reine des Violettes, can now be readily found in this country. These, and the glorious white rose, Frau Karl Druschki, which was produced at the end of the Hybrid Perpetual age in 1901, can still be found in a few specialist rose nurseries that have kept traces of our colonial rose heritage alive. (Keith Stewart)

My central philosophy is that one should encourage the tendencies inherent in nature and oversee a garden which, once planted, will largely happen by itself. While much thought should go into the garden design and the selection of trees, shrubs and plants, the thought should be directed towards ‘letting the garden go’ or encouraging nature rather than imposing the narrow will and sense of order of the gardener. Things should be allowed to happen rather than being thoroughly controlled. I feel very strongly that one should observe the garden and its changes, and gain a sense of the spirit of the place before intervening…

My notion of an established natural garden is one which has a profusion of ground covers, annual and herbaceous perennials and in which there is no bare earth in sight. Perennials and annuals will self-seed happily and charming bulbous plants will appear yearly. Annuals and perennials are not planted in straight lines but drifts through the garden to create an informal look. Such a garden is always full of little surprises. plants appear by themselves in unexpected places - patches of self-sown columbines and foxgloves, or a wandering ground cover that sets off in an unexpected directions. Climbers are allowed to wander up trees and shrubs and lend a romantic feeling to the garden, as the long stems twine through and hang out of the tree to create a softening effect. (Cheryl Maddocks)

Rose Hedges

In a gracious, small and ancient town near where I live, someone has had the imagination to plant a hedge of rambler roses. It occupies the whole of his road frontage, about 150 yards I believe, and in the summer months people come from all over the country to see it. I must admit that it is an impressive sights; a blaze of colour; a long, angry, startling streak, as though someone had taken a red pencil and had scrawled dense red bunches all over a thicket-fence of green. A splendid idea; very effective; but, oh, how crude! I blinked seeing it; and having blinked, I weep. It is not only the virulence of the colour that bring tears to my eyes, but the regret that so fine an idea should not have been more fastidiously carried out.

The hedge is made of American Pillar, rose which, together with Dorothy Perkins, should be forever abolished from our gardens. I know this attack on two popular roses will infuriate many people; but if one writes gardening articles one must have the courage of one’s opinion. I hate, hate, hate American Pillar and her sweetly pink companion Perkins. What would I have planted instead? Well, there is Goldfinch, an old rambler, very vigorous, very sweet-scented and when I say sweet-scented I mean it, for I do try to tell the exact truth in all these articles, not to mislead anybody. Goldfinch is a darling; she is my pet, my treasure; a mass of scrambled eggs. Then there is Félicité et Perpétue, white, flushed pink; and Madame Plantier, white, with larger flowers. Or Albertine, very strong and free flowing, a beautiful soft pink that appears to have been dipped in tea; of François Juranville who has also fallen into a teacup. (V. Sackville-West)

A Heuchera and blood grass from Mitre 10.

Here’s what’s been happening in my garden this week. It’ll only take a few sentences. I planted out my sweet pea seedlings into their dustbin gardens and bought long bamboo canes for them to grow up. I bought 2 brilliant plants from the ‘sick and dilapidated plant section’ at Mitre-10: a blood grass (which looked tatty, only because it’s dormant in winter, but was otherwise a healthy plant) and a careworn red Heuchera. I’d bought a similar Heuchera last year from the same plant section and it’s flourishing in my courtyard garden.

Both of these plants are destined for the courtyard garden.

Sweet Pea seedlings planted out in dustbins in the brick garden.

I’d planned to paint the shed this weekend (only the door and doorframe), but it’s been raining so I couldn’t. You’ll have to wait another week to see which colours I picked.

Our friend Paul, who’s building the shed, built the steps last week. He also built a potting bench and a shelf inside. The inside is finished. Now I need to find a few hours to move all my gardening stuff in and sort it out.

The plant directly to the left of the shed is a climbing rose called Casino, ‘Gerbe d’Or’. It’s a scented yellow rose introduced in 1963. There are rose buds forming on it. I planted this rose in autumn. I can’t wait to see its flowers.

There’s been a lot happening in the dustbin and bucket garden. The tulip leaves are poking through the soil. My purple hyacinth is blooming and the maroon ones called ‘Woodstock’ are just starting to flower, along with Mascari ‘Blue Magic’.

It’s been a wet week and a wet weekend. Here are a few pictures from other parts of the garden.

Here’s my latest wallflower, Pat’s Purple, in the red and purple flower garden. Also looking good in this garden are 2 of my many euphorbias and one of the many self-seeded honeywort plants, Cerinthe major.

I ordered lots of blue pulmanaria from Grassroots Roses 2 weeks ago. Some of them have started to flower.

Here’s another plant from the same nursery. I planted it in autumn. It’s a climbing Hybrid Tea rose with the delightful name Mrs Herbert Stevens…and it’s flowering for the first time. It’s an old rose from Ireland, introduced in 1922. A very hardy, scented, repeat flowering, white rose. I planted it in my bay tree garden.