When I was asked to write about my life with plants for the 20 year old SALIFE Collector's Edition I never expected it would bring back such wonderful memories. In our busy lives we rarely have time to stop and reflect, but I am so grateful for the opportunity to pause and share snippets of my “green” journey.
Kim's life has been built around her love of plants.
Growing up in the then working-class suburb of Kingswood in the 1960s, life revolved around work, family and the garden – a time when your gardening prowess was determined by the amount of smoke rising from your backyard incinerator on a Sunday afternoon.
My earliest memory of plants is watching my mother, Pat, plant and care for her beloved gerbera daisies that lined the emu wire fence in front of our house. Cutting back and repotting as needed, she created a stunning display of bright red daisy flowers that she was so proud of.
From an early age, I learned that some plants brought me joy and others pain. The sumac tree in our neighbor Mrs. Young's yard bloomed with beautiful bright red leaves in the fall, but it also contained a toxin that reacted with the skin. Unaware of this, while pregnant with my brother Robert, my mother broke out in blisters and suffered such severe pain that she was bedridden for weeks.
Young Kim, her mother Pat, and father Faustus are pictured next to an overhanging sumac tree that may make for a spectacular fall sight, but it's also a poisonous invader.
My dad's solution was to talk to the neighbors, get out a saw, put on overalls and gloves, and carefully cut down the little trees, one by one. My mom recovered, they found replacement plants, and everyone was happy.
In the 1970s, state opening hours allowed garden centres to open on weekends, but other retailers closed after midday on Saturdays. This exception led to a large number of small and medium-sized plant-related businesses dotting most of Adelaide's suburbs. I remember visiting Kemp Nurseries on the corner of Cross Road and Bellaire Road and watching as vegetable and flower seedlings were dug from the nurseries, wrapped in newspapers and carried home. At one point, my father, Faustus and I were tasked with choosing a pittosporum and a mandarin tree. With the help of the staff, we pulled the plants out to assess their suitability and after much deliberation, a precious tree was selected. We brought these beautiful trees home and planted them, and they thrived in our backyard for many years, with the mandarin providing an abundance of delicious fruit for the five Silas sons.
When Kim Cyrus was a child, there was always work to do in the garden. Pictured here is Kim Cyrus, back right, with her three siblings in their Kingswood backyard.
I got into gardening at a time when I just needed some pocket money. Saturday and Sunday gardening was the financial and horticultural highlight of my week. Gardeners are always happy to impart their knowledge and Mrs. Snow (Saturday) and Mrs. Mellish (Sunday) were no exception. Pointing out the difference between weeds and precious plants was my first lesson. Once that was done, instruction in watering, fertilizing and pruning followed. I was so proud to see the bulbs I planted in the winter rear their heads and bloom in the spring. It wasn't appreciated at the time, but I can now see how much joy a weed-free and well-tended garden brought to my two employers.
My free time from school and yard work was often spent building a bicycle from spare parts I found at the base of the Fullerton Dump (now McElligots Quarry Reserve, a beautiful park at the south end of Fullerton Road). Riding this rickety bike (few wheels had tyres on it) around Brownhill Creek was a casual way of exploring this wooded, hilly wonderland. I can vividly recall the normally meandering Brownhill Creek rising from its banks in the winter rains into a roaring torrent. The crashing and splashing of the water echoed through the gorge as I took shelter beneath a majestic River Red Gum tree from the passing rain.
Kim's life has been built around her love of plants.
Whether it was meeting up with family after church or running with my siblings on the lawn or around the magnificent oak tree near the entrance, Brownhill Creek was, and remains, a place filled with beloved plants and filled with so many fond memories.
As is typical of teenage and early adulthood, gardening took a back seat to sports, cars and other things, but when my wife Jude and I bought a house in 1982, my passion for gardening was reignited. Garden design and planting was followed by a flurry of redesigns and replantings. Native Australian plants arrived with the promise of “no maintenance” – a big mistake. Then English-style gardens with hollyhocks, columbines and other perennials became fashionable. But gardens followed fashion, and we followed them faithfully.
The large walnut tree in the Cyrus backyard was a regular backdrop for family photos (Kim and her three siblings are pictured at the far right).
Encouraged by my late father-in-law, Dean Ross, I decided to switch from teaching to horticulture, and the world of roses opened up to me. I am still grateful to him. Bourbon, Noisette and Rugosa rose varieties joined the ranks, along with other modern varieties. I fell in love with roses, bought land in Myponga and founded Corporate Roses in the late 1990s. As anyone who has ever started a business knows, it is hard work and sometimes heartbreaking. I will confess that there were times of doubt and frustration. Standing in a newly budded rose patch on Christmas Eve with a bored person who had quit work before a heatwave still brings back the sense of despair. Thankfully, a local electrician answered my call, and the soothing sound of impact sprinklers was welcomed by plants and business owners alike.
I hate to sound cliché, but the future looks rosy. As a recent recipient of a Churchill Fellowship, I will be embarking on a journey in 2024 to investigate how commercial rose growers can transition from traditional grafting to cutting-based cultivation.
The walnut tree is still standing today.
I'm sure we all have lots of great, nostalgic plant stories to reminisce about if we have the chance to look back. Take a minute, or even ten, to reminisce. I'm sure it will bring a smile to your face and a tear to your eye. That's what it did for me.
This article first appeared in the December 2023 issue of SALIFE Magazine.
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