The affair of the stone

My lasting affair with stones started out of necessity. As soon as I rolled my sleeves and plunged into gardening, I found out about benefits of composting. Naturally wanting only the best for my garden (providing the best was not expensive), I composted the flower beds liberally.

Alas, then it rained. Now, it almost never merely rains in Johannesburg. It usually pours. Our whole complex is on a steep slope, and my portion of it is no exception. Consequently, my garden gets not only the rainfall due to it, but also the rainfall intended for my neighbours up the hill from me. To make matters worse, our first up-the-hill neighbour used to have his whole backyard paved with bricks. Since bricks do not absorb water, the full force of the rolling current would descend right into my backyard, rushing over the steps in a magnificent waterfall.

I watched the downpour from my window, horrified. Buckets and buckets of the newly laid compost and soil were stripped from my flower beds. When the rain stopped I went out to survey the damage. The roots of several plants stood sadly exposed. I collected handfuls of soil and compost that had collected at the bottom of the garden and did my best to cover them. Then I heard someone next door and down the slope from me sweeping in what I imagined was an irritated manner. I peeked through the gate and, sure enough, my neighbour’s patio was black with the soil and compost that came from my flower beds.

That’s how I started collecting stones. They were introduced into the garden for purely practical reasons, to prevent the soil from the flower beds from being washed away. But the necessity soon grew into a passion for stones.

I bought sacks and sacks of stones and pebbles. I brought pebbles from overseas holidays, the way other people bring souvenirs. I hauled boulders for kilometres back to the car when on outings in the bush. Once I stopped in the middle of the road to pick up a nice round stone that lay nearby, looking abandoned.

My first stone works were rather crude. The grey rocks in image number two were donated by a friend who dug them out of her garden. The tree trunk was acquired on the side of the highway. I happened to see workers cutting up a tree trunk and thought – that would look nice in my garden! And it did, until it rotted away. The stone in the centre of picture number three is the one I salvaged.

The second time around the result was more pleasing. I found those beautiful bluish pebbles in a garden shop – once, and then they had them no more.

The same area looks even better with the peace-in-the-house filling in the available space, with the smaller circle of white pebbles removed and the bigger one being hidden by the growing azalea. The white pebbles – the most common kind in the garden shops – are my least favourite.

Peace-in-the house tends to spread and has to be trimmed regularly. If not, it would cover the stones. This plant doesn’t mind that there is not soil. Somehow it manages to bring its own soil with it.