Akaroa Accommodation - About Tree Crop Farm in Christchurch Star.

Gardening with Cynthia Kepple
20.04.2007

By CYNTHIA KEPPLE
"This is amazing! Are there any more gardens like this in New Zealand?" The question came from a middle aged British woman wandering Tree Crop farm in Akaroa. She was clicking off photos with a long lensed camera.

“I very much doubt it,” was my reply. Like the elegant dark haired tourist, I was wandering gobsmacked through the rampant yet ravishing wilderness that is the domain of the somewhat bohemian and extremely colourful Lynne Alexander.

I’d heard of this unusual garden-come-farm-come-romantic back-to-nature-luxury-retreat-for lovers through a couple who’d stayed in one of the secluded accommodation huts for an anniversary.




I rang Lynne – mine host, gardener and tree crop farmer, who I later discovered was also an author and former journalist and TV and radio producer – to ask if I could visit her garden for a story.
At the height of the tourist season she was in full “looking after house guest” mode and had little time to talk, but invited me to wander around by myself to take a look.

It was a walk on the wild side.

What I discovered was a garden that unashamedly captures all the senses. There was the background melody from the gurgling stream and the gentle castanet buzz of sleepy insects.

A tangle of sweetpeas, a toss of dahlias, artichoke forests, and expanses of wildflowers captured the eye.

The scent of honeysuckle and borage mingled with that of lavender, while mint and lemon balm brushed against you as you wandered the narrow pathways.

And if you didn’t pick a leaf from the abundant herbs that grew both in a proliferation of pots and wild and free, you’d be offered one as a garnish to the refreshing drink – coffee, hot chocolate or delicious fresh berry juice – that came with the $12 entrance fee.

The garden is labelled “wilderness country’’ by its owner and designer and with a little research I discovered it has its own philosophy – French impressionist meets Kiwi.

It was inspired by Renoir’s garden at Cagnes, which was organised to provide produce for the Renoir family as well as to be a place for personal growth.

There are many of the traditional elements of a great garden, too. It’s just that they are “deconstructed” with the haphazard flair of a gardener who dares to be different and let nature have a hand.

Doves flutter in dovecotes high on the hill and keep an eye on the comings and goings at the historic 1850s wattle and daub main house where Lynne and her helpers serve breakfasts and afternoon teas.

A somnolent pond boasts a large gilded fish monument – a tongue-in-cheek token to the golden fountains of famous French gardens – and the adventurous visitor is inevitably tempted to enter the rustic, semi-covered walkway, an artfully constructed avenue of manuka branches encrusted with vines and climbing roses.

Old roses, running free, are a special feature of the garden – as are sumptuous lilies, at full bloom in mid summer.

Closer to the homestead chooks and their chickens roam the paths and an abandoned yacht, Myth, adds a quirky touch.

The beguiling garden is just part of the Tree Crop Farm experience.

There are the hidden, private retreats (think sheepskins, chandeliers and outdoor baths), numerous walking tracks, and the farmhouse from whence Lynne, amidst an array of colonial bric-a-brac, magazines and an eclectic selection of CDs, manages her 50-acre domain.

And no story on Tree Crop Farm would be complete without mention of the ever-changing selection of quotes from Lynne and guests. Appearing on rafters, walls, and even throughout the garden, Lynne periodically publishes them as a book.

# Postscript: This Easter, with summer nearly over I took a twilight walk up the valley and stumbled unexpectedly onto Tree Crop Farm. Yellow light filtered softly from windows, music wafted through the country air, and here and there amongst the trees, woodsmoke from hidden chimneys drifted gently skyward. The garden, still green and lush, was at pleasantly at peace.