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I believe I have shown already in a picture the lemon grass round the temple flower tree. Karu had brought this as well as a karavila creeper to set on the tree. And as mentioned I had planted a few more flowers there, including the yellow ones I mentioned last week. Those died but were reincarnated in a flourishing tree on the western edge of the garden as I also showed last week.
I had also planted in that basin what I believe was a camphor plant, with lovely little purple flowers. This flourished there around the same time as the red rose plant I have already mentioned as having been received for Valentine’s Day. I showed Kavi planting it, and then soon thereafter I planted one with I think white flowers, though of that placement I have no record.
I show first here what was I think the first bud to emerge on the red rose tree after the blossom that came with it had died, and then I show the white possibly pinkish rose tree next to it, with the original red rose next to it. Beyond are the purple camphor flowers, with also the trunk of the temple flower tree swathed in lemon grass.
On the other side of that tree is an orange blossom, whose provenance defeats me. I cannot recollect planting anything on that side of the temple flower tree, and the orange chrysanthemums in the further bed could not have come thus far. On balance I think it must be from the rose bush I mentioned some time ago as having been planted next to the first rose bush on the roof garden, that white one that turned red and white. That view is given credence by the next picture, which was taken from the balcony below, showing that first bush with a Valentine Day red rose beyond, shown in its early stages in the first picture, and an orange blossom below on the left.
This picture also makes clear how lusciously the lemon grass had grown. That began to worry me, and so earlier this month I decided to have only roses in that basin, apart from the temple flower tree, which thrust forth another host of blossoms earlier this month. The karavila creeper had died, and with the lemon grass threatening to take over the tree and more and more space, I removed it, to transfer to an area downstairs where it would have more room for itself.
But before I go on to the plethora of rose plants that I received on my birthday, which prompted the dedication of this basin to roses, I thought I should show yet another perspective on the trees I had before that, including yet another I planted next to the original one. That was of yellow roses, and in the fourth picture you see a few of its blossoms beyond the variegated tree and the orange one I showed Kithsiri planting a couple of weeks back. And finally I show these yellow roses beneath the new cluster of temple flowers, on the second branch of the tree.
Back to Lakmahal today, and the pond which I have not spoken of much so far in this series, the biggest in the garden, and the first actual pond. Before it there had been the yellow bath tub, the lotuses in which I described a couple of weeks back.
It had been essentially for lotuses that I had got that, though I put in a few fish to begin with, and then grey gouramis. Seeing them dashing about in there I decided to give them more space, and so had the area just opposite the door into the garden dug up and lined with irregular stones. I also wanted to have there a waterfall, which Kithsiri managed to create with a motor that drew water up to a cement tank we affixed on the wall. I got the water to spill over it in sheafs by placing ornamental animals on top, while on the front of the tank I affixed a little ceramic face that I had had on the wall in my bedroom when I first moved downstairs.
Into that pond I moved the gourami and the carp I had bought for the first pond, and the mozambique Kavi had given me initially, while Kithsiri’s son Lohan gifted me the catfish that remained to him of a pair he had got and kept at the cottage. By now it had grown very large, and I loved to see it glide around the pond.
Soon after they were moved there, the gourami spawned. Though at first I did not understand what the foam was, Kavi soon enlightened me, and also said I should take this away in case other gourami ate it up. So I did, and in a little blue case they grew up, and in time I was able to return nearly twenty of them into that big pond.
The first picture is of the whole pond, with the animal statuettes ranged round its edge, including a deer and a bird from Cambodia and three stone elephants from my aunt Ena’s workshop. They are at the back, below the wall which I decorated with left over tiles from the yellow bathroom. In front you can see lots of frogs, stone and metal, though this picture does not show the serried rank of tortoises on the other side of the fish in the centre. Beyond on the left edge you see a number of sphinxes.
The second picture shows the tank above the pond from which the water flows with the striking face in front. Then there is the pond in its early days, with a host of carp and gourami, the Mozambique at the bottom and the catfish looming above on the left. This picture intrigued me for a long time because I could not work out what the buildings are that are reflected in the water, but then I realized it was very simply the tank on top, with the face also discernible.
Then there is a later picture, with lots of gourami, but also the multicoloured carp I got later. After that I have two pictures of the gourami together with the white carp I also put in there, and in both of them you see the mozambique, and the catfish, gliding along at the bottom in the last picture, a wonderful contrast to the rest.
There was initially a problem about my getting up on the roof with others for Toby got most upset when we abandoned him below. The first time I started to climb he rushed at the tank but, sensible dog that he is, he now knows he should not approach it. To mark his boundary I have built a little square there, filled with earth, and covered with nondescript greenery.
When Kithsiri and I were up there he accepted this, though he was obviously very upset, and sulked just beyond the green square. But when Janaki came up too he got almost hysterical, so that she had to wait on the balcony until he took himself off in high dudgeon.
Once access to the roof garden was possible, decided it was time to put more plants there. I made sure I got some impatience, as I have finally found out these flowers were called, flowers I had got initially when I started to have plants on the balcony. Sunil kept cultivating them so that they seemed to drown the roses, so I moved them down, to a bed that did not get enough sunshine, and they died.
So to make amends to those trees that had looked so well earlier, this time too I bought impatience plants, pink and red, for the roof garden. The place I had patronized four years ago, getting turf too from there for the garden, had closed, doubtless afflicted by corona, but as we passed on, thinking there would not be flowers now till much later in the year, we passed a little shop over which a gentle old lady presided, and there I got two patience plants.
Unfortunately neither she nor anyone else had roses last December, the rains having done for the suppliers, but I did find barbaton daisies, two plants then and two a couple of weeks later. These were not very good, but I was determined to try them out for when I was a child the front garden at Lakmahal had had plenty of them.
Then I also got two other plants with fluffy flowers, orange and yellow, which I thought I would try in the basin by the temple flower pond. But when we were upstairs putting the plants in, Janaki and Kavi and Kithsiri and myself, the others all wanted one of them up there, so we placed it in the large basin where the small temple flower tree had been moved by Kavi from his own flourishing plantation at the back.
The first picture shows the patience flowers on the roof, after I had also planted some blossoms in between, with the yellow I think chrysanthemums in the bed beyond. The next picture, taken recently, shows them flourishing, with lots of other flowers interspersed. But then I go back in time, to show their earlier incarnation on the balcony, leaning forward from the bed that also has roses in it.
The fourth picture shows me planting the yellow chrysanthemum on the roof garden, while the fifth has Janaki planting the orange one down below. Both those alas died but she saved seeds from the former and miraculously they sprouted and the flowers looked magnificent, in another bed up above, just a week or two back. That is shown in the last picture, while before that are first a barbaton bud and then a flower.
I move today to a very different sort of water feature, moved to this by a wonderful night I had at Getamanna this week, following the launch at Sabaragamuwa University of a multilingual journal. The first volume was in my honour, and I was overwhelmed by the kind thoughts expressed by all the speakers. Delightful too was the fact that, obviously having followed my posts, they gave me a lovely little tree as a token of appreciation.
I sat with my coffee early the next morning on the verandah of the little cottage I built on what remained to me of land at Getamanna after I sold the estate, and also the reconstructed old estate bungalow in which I had stayed joyfully over five or six years.
There too there was a verandah which looked over the valley below the house and the hills opposite, but before the land sloped there was a little pond which had been built when my former students moved in there to run the English project I had started there, following the Vocational Training Centre my father had set up.
We had to close the project and gifted the school that had been built to the students who had run it, and in time they were able to convert it to a lovely house on the crest of the hill where my current cottage is, and the little house I built for them. The old house did not have such a great view, but it was beautiful in its own way, mornings and evenings.
Upali and Jothini supplied meals in the house they had, as well as the wherewithal for the coffee that Kithsiri would make in the mornings. And as we sat out on the verandah, their two adventurous dogs, Lassie and her son Bloomer, would come gambolling down the hill to greet us enthusiastically, and then leap into the little pool on the edge of the hill. The few cows left on the estate would come there to drink, and birds too, and once I saw a snake, a harmless one I think, slithering over the edge.
The house was altogether a joy, but this is not the place to talk about it, except for a special feature, a Jacuzzi I put in, the first I would proudly claim in the Hambantota District, not as impressive a record though as my father’s fond remark, whether accurate I cannot say, that I was the first person from the District to be an undergraduate at Oxford. The Jacuzzi was however an accident, which developed only because, when I enlarged the tiny bathroom that had been built soon after my project commenced, I found the space on the other side was at a much lower level. So it made sense to me to have a sunken bath there, and then propel water into it, which was enormous fun for Kithsiri and me.
The first picture here shows the dogs in the morning, and then we have a cow drinking from the pond, also early in the morning, as are I think the birds. And then we have a picture of the jacuzzi, though I cannot resist also adding a couple of the house, my bedroom and the colourful veranda with the dogs in possession.
I have mentioned in earlier posts in this series how initially I could not get to the roof garden and had to suggest placings for plants from the balcony or from the roof. But as pictures have made clear, for the last six months and more I had access.
This was through a narrow iron stairway built on top of the large tank which I had had put up on the balcony, part of it under the roof, the other jutting out, just deep enough to fix on the eastern edge a stairway.
In the companion series on this blog of what I have termed water features, I began with that tank, for both its lotus blossoms and the angel fish that proliferated there are amongst my greatest joys. But that tank also gives me access to the roof, with stairs brilliantly fitted in by Karu, formerly of my security squad when I headed the Peace Secretariat, when he took on the steel gates for my new building. It was his eagle eyes which, when he was constructing the stairway, glimpsed little dots and swiftly identified them as angels, which seemed a miracle for such exotic creatures rarely breed in captivity.
To return to the stairs, he and his mate Tharanga did a fantastic job, in a very short space of time. It was a simple operation, or perhaps they made it seem simple, though I had initially thought it would be very complicated.
I flatter myself though that I had designed the tank so that the staircase would not be too great a problem. The east edge was broad, and there was a step up to it for easy access, or rather just half a step for I had to leave room to go between the tank and the flower bed against the east wall. This was vital for Toby sometimes goes along those beds to sleep under the overhanging roof.
To start the stairs then, Karu placed two box bars leading from the edge of the tank going up to the roof, and placed steps between them at not too steep a gradient. There was also a handrail on the open side, fixed to a column going up from the top of the box bar.
The tank was covered up while all this was being done, until the steel framework was given a protective covering and then painted over, with the whole structure looking extremely elegant when it was finished.
My support team has made me promise not to go up when I am on my own, and though the climb is short and easy I have decided to take their advice. But generally someone is around of an evening, and occasionally early morning too, Kithsiri or Janaki or Kavi, who has been given responsibility for watering the plants every evening. But the first time I went up was with Tharanga who can be seen in the third picture, before which I show the construction of the tank. There follows sunset on that memorable evening, with the temple flower tree on top of the high building to the west silhouetted against the fading light, and then I show lotus buds againt the railings below plus myself sitting on the little step looking in at them.
I concentrated when I started this series four weeks ago on the lotus ponds on my balcony. This was because of my excitement at them both producing a couple of blossoms each last month. But I realized then that I should also pay attention to my first lotus pond, in the garden down below.
That was the yellow tub from the bathroom which had to go to clear the block left to my brother. I put in lots of fish though the bigger ones were later transferred to the waterfall pond. And I got a pink lotus which flourished, with lots of flowers rising above the water over the years, the leaves growing higher and higher to catch the sun.
But then there was disaster last year, with incessant rain and strong winds, and the leaves were crushed and buds ceased to emerge. I thought then that we would have to restock the pond, but fortunately Janaki had preserved some seeds, though she said we should not plant them until the weather cleared up.
When she did, in the layer of mud at the bottom, they soon produced new leaves to join the few which remained. But there were no flowers and I was despairing when suddenly I saw a bud which had risen high beneath a leaf without my having noticed it. And then it burst into flower, a heartening sight when I went down with my coffee, and I sat for ages on the swing revelling in it.
It continued to put forth flowers for several months, and I show here a series, for May and June and July last year. That last one I show first as a bud and then a blossom while in August I show another twice, but on the same day. Those, taken on August 10th, appear first of all, wide open early morning and then closing up again that same evening.
After that thought, perhaps again because of the rain, there have been no blossoms, though leaves sprout up again and again, and recently several have shot up above the pond, which I gather is a precursor of buds. I show some of those leaves in the last picture, though this was taken more for the fish there, one white gourami who has survived, and is now less traumatized than a couple of months ago, when its partner vanished, I suspect lifted by the kingfisher. And just beyond her you can see one of the grey gourami, perhaps one of those born in Lakmahal five years ago. There were several and then they came down to three, and in the last week or so there have only been two despite the tape that Janaki spread across the pond.
So there is sorrow too, though also hope now that more lotuses will emerge, for they also provide additional protection for the fish. For weeks the white gourami lurked beneath a leaf, only popping out swiftly to feed, vanishing again in seconds.
I wrote last week of other flowers, but what were of greatest concern to me on the roof garden were the roses. The first I placed there, in the bed nearest the balcony, was a rose bush which had done well on that balcony. It had had a white blossom when I bought it, but after that it produced blossoms of varied hues, pink as well as pink and white together. It had been in a pot, and I wondered about transferring it, and higher up where the wind would be stronger, but since I was keen to have roses up there I thought I should experiment.
The first picture here shows that rose bush in place, with behind it at the edge of the balcony the pink and yellow bougainvillea plants. That was taken when I still had no access to the slab, but then, late in October, I finally got there. How that happened will be described later.
But today I will concentrate on the roses, that bush, and then other roses added up there. To my joy that first bush did well, in its new elevated situation, with a great host of blossoms in December as can be seen in the second picture. Then there was another resurgence while I was away, at the end of January, and Janaki kindly sent me a splendid picture, which is shown next, the once pure white roses now turning red, as well as pink. And then, though not quite so ebullient by the time I got back, in the first week of February, there were still a few fading blossoms, as seen in the picture that follows, along with the rest of that line of beds and pots on the east end of the roof garden. To their right are the two big basins, the nearer one behind the roses with the temple flower tree and lemongrass at its best, the further one with the two different lime trees.
But I had also wanted to have more roses up there, and sought new plants, but it transpired that after the heavy rains there were no roses available. I tried the nurseries I had used over the years, and new ones, but it seemed whoever produced these had had problems. Finally I managed to source some pink roses, but before entrusting them to sun and rain on the roof I placed them in a pot on the balcony.
There were no new blossoms for a long time, and I was beginning to worry as to whether I had provided for enough sun. But then, when I got back home at the beginning of February, I found several buds emerging, and so I moved the pot up, between the bougainvillea at the end, and a bed with patience flowers, filling in a gap in the round of protective pots and beds at the edge of the garden.
But like Keats’ Autumn, I wanted to ‘set budding more, And still more, later flowers’, not for the bees but for myself, and this had been facilitated when on Valentine’s Day I was sent two rose plants. The red one was planted by Kavi, in the big bed where the temple flower tree is, towering above the roses in the bed at the corner when you look from the balcony.
The other was placed in the balcony, but then my favourite rose lady said she had got several plants and they had all sold out save one. But that was just the colour I wanted for the roof garden, a deep orange, and Kithsiri placed that the bed with the first tree, now producing not white roses but red and white ones.
I referred briefly last week to a little granite seat, made from a large block left over from building. That was set up by the pond around the dead temple flower tree, and against the wall of the enclosure that has another little pond, though that wall proved useless to restrain Hilary. This was the tortoise that had walked in during coronavirus, when the streets were empty, obviously a Colombo denizen, restored in the end to the forests of Ratnapura.
That little pond has to be protected from marauding storks with a not very seemly iron grille above. The elegant green plastic that protects the edges of the other ponds is not enough to allow space for a tortoise, or rather a turtle, which we found was what Hilary was, to slip in and out.
I had set up a seat there so I could see the fish at closer quarters when I fed them in the morning. But that thought was put aside when the workmen went back, not to return for over a year, given the intensity and frequency of lockdowns. But after they came back to work on the new building at Lakmahal, I asked them when they had a moment to build a seat.
They suggested, when a larger than usual block of granite appeared in a load we got, that they use that, and that then was set up at the corner of the round pond and the little wall next to it, beyond which I planted the ambarella and narang trees I was given a couple of years ago.
For ages I had just the two ponds to gaze into of a morning, but then a month ago I placed within the enclosure, beyond the now flourishing ambarella tree, the pink bath tub which had been originally in my grandmother’s bathroom, next to the room that I now use. But when that bathroom had to be demolished, as part of it was on my brother’s block, the tub was taken down and given to Kavi for the fish he kept. When I started on my ponds in the enclosed garden, he gave me some of his, including a delightfully elegant Mozambique, and in the end he had for himself just a large gourami which grew larger and larger over the years.
But then the gourami fell ill, perhaps affected by the cement of the new construction, though we had kept moving the bath tub to get it out of the way. He took it to a friend of his, who cured fish, and after a month or so he was pronounced well. But by then the tub had in it a gourami we thought was pregnant.
That proved a false alarm, and then I thought to move the tub to the garden, to join the yellow one from the bathroom under my grandmother’s, for that too had been demolished. That tub had been the first water feature in the garden, and I was delighted that its counterpart too could join it, and more so that the massive gourami could come home.
But today I show not the fish but that seat and the perspectives from there. I start with a view of the seat, dimly seen at the edge of the pond beyond the anthuriums, and then you see it again, taken across the new mango tree. Then there is a view of the anthuriums from the seat, with the porch beyond, followed by an upper view the porch and the ehala tree. Finally there is a direct look at that area with one of the designer seats beside the windows of the guest room.
I return after two weeks to the development of my roof garden. When the structures were in place on the slab, and the intensity of fresh cement had faded, helped I should note by the incessant rain we have had in the latter part of this year, I got the basins and the beds filled with earth. There was much fertile earth at the back of Lakmahal, piled up when that area was not made use of, and I wanted it levelled anyway so that something could be grown there behind the new building.
Having filled up the basins, even though I could not get up to the roof garden myself, I thought we should fill them up. From the balcony I took up two pots of bougainvillea, the yellow and pink which I had bought when I first started cultivating my garden, way back in 2018; and then the yellow and purple, the latter developed by Sunil from a beautifully flowering tree down the road. The first picture here shows the first pot on the south edge of the roof garden, with Sena, the most enthusiastic of the workmen about the place, watering a lime tree in one of the big basins. The second on the west follows, and then the two pots on the balcony where they first were.
There are in fact two lime trees on the roof garden, one of them brought from Getamanna and planted in the garden below a few years back. There had been two of them, but neither had done well, largely I think because they did not get enough sun. But though the other had died, this one stuck tenaciously to life, and a few months back I moved it up to the balcony where it seemed to take on a new lease of life. And after showing it in its new home, with behind it on the left the bougainvillea at the south, I show it next to the orange rose on the balcony where it had revived, in excellent company.
The other was not quite lime, but rather had developed from the narang seeds I deposited in the earth by the rose bushes when I had drunk up on the balcony the drinks Janaki would prepare for me whenever she had a supply of citrus fruit. The seeds germinated rapidly and grew swiftly into little trees, and the biggest of them I felt could be taken to the roof garden.
I planted the two lime trees in the further back from the balcony of the big basins I had had constructed. In the nearer one I thought of having a small temple flower tree, and it turned out that Kavi had been preparing one. He and his uncle, Janaki’s brother, brought It up to the roof and placed it in the basin while I watched from the roof. Unfortunately they were framed against the sunset and are not very clear, in the picture, nor can you discern the flower that was on the tree when it was planted.
That flower faded away soon and for many months after that there were no flowers on it. But then a month or so back buds appeared, and earlier this week there was the most fantastic bouquet of flowers at the top of the tree. These are shown on the last picture here, before which I show the tree in earlier days with the two lime plants seen clearly behind it.
Rajiva Wijesinha 