When we moved in 1982 from Brisbane to our 40ha rural block in the Bega Valley I knew next to nothing about gardening. I grew up in a flat, and spent my twenties in various rented share houses where I did no more than dabble with a bit of vege gardening, so to create a garden from scratch was quite a challenge. But what I lacked in knowledge I made up for with enthusiasm.

I chose quite a lot of exotics to start with because I wanted a framework of deciduous trees to let in the winter sun and because I thought they would be less flammable in the event of a fire. Some of these just weren’t tough enough to cope with my minimal watering regime and have since died, but there are some surprising survivors such as a soulangeana magnolia which soldiers on with no supplementary watering and puts on a nice show in spring. However, a browse through the icecream container full of labels of things I have planted over the years is a chastening experience – so much money wasted on things which did not survive, or worse, which became invasive and had to be laboriously eradicated before they took over the entire garden, as a prelude to taking over the valley.

Over the years my interests have shifted from gardening to observing the various plants growing naturally on the property and my only gardening activities these days are weeding and as little watering as I can get away with and still keep things alive (this can mean quite a lot of watering in a dry year, given our sloping site, sandy soils and northerly aspect).

Because our block is partly bush there is a steady seed rain from the surroundings, which has made a gradual but substantial change to the composition of the garden. If we lived closer to town no doubt much of the seed rain would be privet and other exotics, but here it is virtually all native. The most prolific arrivals are ones spread by birds, chiefly tree violet (Hymenanthera dentata), a spiny shrub which would take over the yard if I let it. So although the scent of its flowers in spring is very pleasant I pull most of them out, but other colonisers are more welcome. Almost every exotic tree has a young kurrajong coming up under it, and a native cherry (Exocarpos cupressiformis) which popped up a few years ago is a good replacement for a planted casuarina which blew over. Native cherries are partial root parasites on other plants, but this one does not seem to be affecting the health of any of the trees around it – maybe it is spreading the burden over several nearby trees. Vines also pop up pretty often, including wonga vine, wombat berry, scrambling lily and pearl vine.

Apart from the volunteers scattered throughout I have one area of the garden which is solely local natives. This is a reconstructed grassland which I planted on the site of the old mudbrick making area next to the house. I had been undertaking a survey of remnant vegetation on roadsides for the local Council and observed how some of the grassy woodland species thrived in harsh situations like roadside cuttings where there is very little topsoil. The mudbrick making area was just subsoil, with a thin cover of weeds, which when killed off with herbicide made a tiny amount of humus. Into this I planted plugs of local grasses and herbs, grown from seed I collected myself on local road verges or on my own property. Some of these plants are now locally uncommon, although they must have been abundant prior to european settlement. Over this I scattered seed of kangaroo grass.

The grassland looks after itself pretty well, although a bit of weeding was needed in the early days. I do water it a bit in dry times (20 minutes once a week) to keep it green since it is very close to the house, and because the soil is so shallow. If it were growing on real soil instead of subsoil it might not need as much watering but would probably also be weedier. The infertility of the subsoil discourages most weeds. If the grasses get too tall a quick pass with the whipper-snipper solves the problem, and towards the end of winter I sometimes burn it to get rid of unwanted fuel and freshen up the kangaroo grass plants. A splash from the hose prevents some of the less fire-tolerant plants like the bulbine lilies from getting burnt and the fire opens up spaces between the grass tussocks for the herbs to seed into. Actually most of the seedlings seem to pop up in the gravel path, from which I have pricked out quite a few in wet seasons to transplant to other sites. Many of the grassland plants are now popping up in other parts of the garden as well, particularly grasses, and the yellow burr-daisies (Calotis lappulacea) whose seed clusters positively leap onto passing socks (perhaps with hindsight the path edge was not the best place to plant them!).

The kangaroo grass takes little water to keep green, and in spring the grassland is quite colourful with yellow daisies and bulbine lilies, pink trigger plants, blue Wahlenbergia and purple pea flowers. Later in summer the different seed heads of a dozen or so native grasses make an interesting display. The pendulous shrub in the photo is Jacksonia scoparia, a very hardy native pea which is rare except on roadsides because it is palatable to livestock. It puts on a magnificent display of yellow flowers in spring.

Those whose taste runs to regimented ranks of petunias and marigolds might write my grassland off as drab or messy, but I find the subtlety of its floral display and the ease of maintenance more than satisfying.