Gardening with Margaret Matthews
A tribute to a tree
by Margaret Matthews
When I made the decision to move into an apartment, the choice became easy when I looked out from the open door and saw a magnificent tree.
My soon-to-be next door neighbour, Mary, asked, "What do you think of our tree?". Her expression told me nothing. I said, "I love it," and we both laughed. Anyone who cares about trees is sure to be a good neighbour.
The tree, a Silver Wattle (Acacia dealbata) is very tall and spreading. It towers over our apartments and I am told that it is at least 12 metres high and seven metres wide.
This old (in terms of its life span) tree has fought many battles. Wild winds and storms have bent its trunk, which is gnarled and scarred by attacks from borer and other predators.
The Silver Wattle is indigenous to Victoria and this particular plant may have grown from a seed. (Mary tells me that when she first came here it was a young sapling.) Wattles are notoriously fast growing and short-lived.
The area where I live was formerly an orchard, and in the distant past, home to an Aboriginal tribe. They use the seeds and other parts of the plant as food and medicine. The flowers of this particular wattle are used to make perfume in France.
Its foliage is feathery and grey-green, or glauvus, which I suppose accounts for its common name of Silver Wattle. The blossom, which appears in sprays along the branches, certainly could not be called ‘silver’. There is a myriad of tiny, fragrant, golden balls which will appear for several weeks from the end of this month – July – and will soon reach the peak of perfection. The whole tree will appear like a golden cloud.
There is a small cloud, grey rather than golden, on my horizon as I look at this lovely tree. Wattles (as I mentioned before) are notoriously short-lived, and this one has obviously reached the ‘third age’. Often native plants will make one supreme effort before they die, and this tree may be doing just that! It is trying to make sure that its progeny will continue and that at least a few of its many seeds will not fall on the proverbial stony ground.
This tree is not our oldest ‘resident’, but it has lived here longer than most of us. It faces, as we do, an uncertain future, but for the present it continues to provide blossom in spring, shade in summer, a barrier to the cold winds of autumn and winter and a refuge for native birds in all seasons.
Have you noticed that there are not as many wattle trees in our suburban streets as there used to be? In the surrounding hills and in the country wattles native to their locality still survive, but in far fewer numbers than before the land was indiscriminately cleared.
Wattles have been unfairly held responsible for hayfever and related allergies that beset the population in spring. Many exotics as well as grasses and pastoral crops are some of the main culprits.
It would be great if some wattles of various kinds could be planted in vacant spots along highways, tollways and freeways. But most of all they could brighten our suburban streets and parks. We could ask our city fathers to plant or replace trees with wattles of suitable size and habit.
If you have a beautiful wattle in your garden, you could collect some seedpods when they are mature (it might be wise to tie a paper bag over some of the pods to avoid them being blown away). Before planting the seeds pour on some boiling water and leave for 24 hours. Sow the seeds in a pot of seed raising mix. Barely cover the tiny seeds and keep moist until the young plants appear. When they are a few centimetres tall, pot them up into individual pots. Remember that the juvenile foliage of young wattles is different from the mature leaves. We could offer plants to our local municipality and request that they include them in future plantings.
Let’s put some extra sunshine into our winters! There is nothing like wattle in full bloom to lift the spirits.
Margaret Matthews gardening archive page
