By Catherine Watson
A couple of years ago, when I learned that my new neighbour Miriam Ford was Victorian president of the Australian Plant Society, I was intrigued. The house was an unremarkable brick veneer but the block was treeless. The previous owner liked it that way. He used to practise his golf on the lawn – no trees, no shrubs, not even a flower bed, to interrupt his chip shots.
Clearly Miriam had plans. But she was recently separated, juggling the APS presidency and organising its national biennial conference, so the transformation began slowly. For the first year, the only sign was the pots of plants that began to appear along the fence line, then dozens more, down the driveway.
A couple of years ago, when I learned that my new neighbour Miriam Ford was Victorian president of the Australian Plant Society, I was intrigued. The house was an unremarkable brick veneer but the block was treeless. The previous owner liked it that way. He used to practise his golf on the lawn – no trees, no shrubs, not even a flower bed, to interrupt his chip shots.
Clearly Miriam had plans. But she was recently separated, juggling the APS presidency and organising its national biennial conference, so the transformation began slowly. For the first year, the only sign was the pots of plants that began to appear along the fence line, then dozens more, down the driveway.
Late last year a trellis went in down the side – a living fence – and a colourful vine went crazy. This year, the circular garden beds began to appear. The project is well and truly under way.
It’s still a work in progress, with piles of mulch and turf and patches of bare ground, but the architecture of the garden is now apparent. “I wanted something spilling down the slope,” Miriam says. “And so I’ve arrived at these beds like petals.”
It’s still a work in progress, with piles of mulch and turf and patches of bare ground, but the architecture of the garden is now apparent. “I wanted something spilling down the slope,” Miriam says. “And so I’ve arrived at these beds like petals.”
“When I’ve been through difficult times, growing plants and seeing them thrive really helps me. It’s a form of nurturing."
There’s not a petunia or zinnia in sight. Why bother, when the Australian palette offers such riches? Miniature corymbias promise shade and birdsong. Callistemons, correas, banksias and mint bushes form layers of colour and texture. Everlastings dazzle. A Swan River Pea blazes red along the side fence.
“I do like a bit of colour!” the creator says cheerfully.
Now national president of the APS, Miriam is walking the talk. Her humble quarter-acre is becoming a showcase for what’s possible.
It pleases her that people are stopping to look as they pass. “I wanted something that draws the eye but also provides habitat – a place for pollinators and critters. It’s so important to live in nature, to respect it, to remember how interconnected we all are. That’s why I didn’t want to put a fence at the front.
“I’ve probably over-planted,” she confides, “but that’s okay. I’m 69 this year, so I’d like to see it all come together in a year or two.”
Now national president of the APS, Miriam is walking the talk. Her humble quarter-acre is becoming a showcase for what’s possible.
It pleases her that people are stopping to look as they pass. “I wanted something that draws the eye but also provides habitat – a place for pollinators and critters. It’s so important to live in nature, to respect it, to remember how interconnected we all are. That’s why I didn’t want to put a fence at the front.
“I’ve probably over-planted,” she confides, “but that’s okay. I’m 69 this year, so I’d like to see it all come together in a year or two.”
The science of soil
Miriam’s move to South Wonthaggi meant downsizing from a large garden in Hurstbridge to something more compact. “I knew I wanted to live near the sea,” she says. “I loved Cape Paterson. I wanted enough land for a garden – not as big as before, but enough to display Australian plants, including some of the locally indigenous species.”
Her block is part of an ancient sand dune – not ideal, but manageable. The trick, she says, is to build up the micro-organisms that sustain everything else. No herbicides here. The dreaded kikuyu is dug out by hand, the soil enriched with compost, worm castings from her own worm farm, and an activated mulch named Who Flung Dung.
She learned much of her soil wisdom from the legendary Dr Mary Cole, a pioneer in soil regeneration. “The fungal mycelium connects into the root hairs and helps transfer minerals and water. Then you’ve got the protozoa and other single-celled creatures swimming around in there. It’s a whole community under our feet and it’s essential.”
Spoken like a scientist, which she is. Dr Miriam Ford completed a PhD in cellular biology, studied molecular biology in the UK, and spent 25 years in cancer and developmental biology research.
That scientific background shows in her gardening. She researches, tests, observes – and keeps learning. But intuition plays its part too.
“Plants have personalities,” she says. “I don’t consider myself a landscaper, but I enter into a bit of a dialogue with the landscape and the plants. I seem to intuit what might work.”
A touch of magic
At the back of the block, her nursery is filled with hundreds of trays of seedlings and pots in various stages. She loves propagating from seed. Gardening has been a constant through all of life’s ups and downs. “When I’ve been through difficult times, growing plants and seeing them thrive really helps me. It’s a form of nurturing.
Miriam’s move to South Wonthaggi meant downsizing from a large garden in Hurstbridge to something more compact. “I knew I wanted to live near the sea,” she says. “I loved Cape Paterson. I wanted enough land for a garden – not as big as before, but enough to display Australian plants, including some of the locally indigenous species.”
Her block is part of an ancient sand dune – not ideal, but manageable. The trick, she says, is to build up the micro-organisms that sustain everything else. No herbicides here. The dreaded kikuyu is dug out by hand, the soil enriched with compost, worm castings from her own worm farm, and an activated mulch named Who Flung Dung.
She learned much of her soil wisdom from the legendary Dr Mary Cole, a pioneer in soil regeneration. “The fungal mycelium connects into the root hairs and helps transfer minerals and water. Then you’ve got the protozoa and other single-celled creatures swimming around in there. It’s a whole community under our feet and it’s essential.”
Spoken like a scientist, which she is. Dr Miriam Ford completed a PhD in cellular biology, studied molecular biology in the UK, and spent 25 years in cancer and developmental biology research.
That scientific background shows in her gardening. She researches, tests, observes – and keeps learning. But intuition plays its part too.
“Plants have personalities,” she says. “I don’t consider myself a landscaper, but I enter into a bit of a dialogue with the landscape and the plants. I seem to intuit what might work.”
A touch of magic
At the back of the block, her nursery is filled with hundreds of trays of seedlings and pots in various stages. She loves propagating from seed. Gardening has been a constant through all of life’s ups and downs. “When I’ve been through difficult times, growing plants and seeing them thrive really helps me. It’s a form of nurturing.
“It’s magic. You think, ‘That came from that tiny thing – and now look at it!’”
She laughs. “I don’t have any of my own children, so this is what I do. And they don’t talk back!”
Selling plants at APS sales also helps fund the garden – those corten steel borders and bags of activated mulch don’t come cheap. Among native plant lovers, she’s best known for her Australian mint bushes (Prostantheras), sold at APS sales under the name Mim’s Mints. “They’re fabulous garden plants – fragrant and drop-dead gorgeous. They flower in total abundance, and some have the most exquisite markings.”
She now grows about 80 species of Prostanthera. “Keeping that many going can be tricky,” she admits. “When I first got to Wonthaggi, I had no idea about the wind! I had to rearrange things a few times. But now I know what to expect.”
Miriam has also been inspired by the spectacular Australian Garden at Cranbourne where she’s a member of the volunteer propagation team.
“I think it’s a beautiful place and I feel very connected to its history and creation. It’s a lot of work but immensely satisfying.
"There’s a rhythm to it. Everyone’s focused and present – it’s almost meditative. And you’re surrounded by like-minded people. It’s very therapeutic, very good for mental health.”
She laughs. “I don’t have any of my own children, so this is what I do. And they don’t talk back!”
Selling plants at APS sales also helps fund the garden – those corten steel borders and bags of activated mulch don’t come cheap. Among native plant lovers, she’s best known for her Australian mint bushes (Prostantheras), sold at APS sales under the name Mim’s Mints. “They’re fabulous garden plants – fragrant and drop-dead gorgeous. They flower in total abundance, and some have the most exquisite markings.”
She now grows about 80 species of Prostanthera. “Keeping that many going can be tricky,” she admits. “When I first got to Wonthaggi, I had no idea about the wind! I had to rearrange things a few times. But now I know what to expect.”
Miriam has also been inspired by the spectacular Australian Garden at Cranbourne where she’s a member of the volunteer propagation team.
“I think it’s a beautiful place and I feel very connected to its history and creation. It’s a lot of work but immensely satisfying.
"There’s a rhythm to it. Everyone’s focused and present – it’s almost meditative. And you’re surrounded by like-minded people. It’s very therapeutic, very good for mental health.”