The easiest way to plant a tree is to hack out a shallow hole, pull the tree from its pot, shake off excess dirt and any roots that won't fit, drop in your tree, then remember it next spring when it puts out three hopeful leaves then dies or, just possibly, grows to 30 metres, falls over and crushes the bedroom, or drops branches on the car or the cat and invades your drains and costs several days of a plumber's time as well as your time while you hunt for said plumber.
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Then there is the way to turn your $20 outlay into $3000 over the next half century or so, either as harvested fruit or from your profitable investment in the established grandeur of your garden that adds value to your house. And that is by planting it properly.
First, the spot. THE spot.
Read the label, Mabel. If it says sun, find somewhere that receives sun for a minimum of six hours a day, or buy another tree. If it says dappled shade hunt for it. Avoid dry shade, i.e. under the eaves, unless you are going to put a drip irrigation system in and, even then, the leaves will stay dry and harbour pests – rain does a surprising amount of pest control.
Avoid planting your new tree near other trees with vast root systems like large eucalypts. Do not plant a potentially large tree near your drains. Do not plant any tree in the middle of the lawn as, when you feed and water the lawn to keep it green, you encourage your new tree to develop shallow roots and it is more inclined to keel over once it is big and leafy and weighted down with water in a windy storm.
Step two. The tree.
Don't fall in love with any potential tree before you read that label, unless you also plan to buy a hobby farm where it may be happier than your back garden. Look at its likely eventual height because that will give you an idea of spread, too. If you value your foundations, don't choose a too-tall tree or one that may drop branches like a gum tree or a short-lived tree like a wattle especially if you can't easily chop it down when it dies in 15 years' time.
Step three. The hole.
Dig it twice as deep and wide as the pot the tree is in. If you find big roots, plant elsewhere as those roots will compete with the new tree's root development. If you find large rocks, remove them, then dig the hole even deeper so that it has room to become established before its roots find more rocks and needs strength to wriggle around them.
Step four. Plant.
Gently tease the plant from the pot, even more gently tease out the congested roots, trim off any damaged ones with nice sharp secateurs and plant with the surface of the potted plant at the same level as the surface of the soil surrounding the hole. Stamp in well, then pour at least four buckets of water around the new sapling to make sure that soil washes into each tiny hole near the roots.
Water at least once a week, even in winter. Don't feed it until it is growing well in spring, otherwise the fertiliser may burn the new roots. And don't feed if the soil is dry either.
Step five. Plant again.
Plant something small, shallow rooted, pretty and innocuous around your new tree, like low-growing salvias or a circle of daffodils. This will, hopefully, stop over-eager gardeners mowing too close, damaging the bark and letting in rots and fungi. If you live with black-tailed wallabies (Sigh … I love our wallabies … But … ) put in a secure circle of netting to keep out eager paws and teeth. Stake the netting well to stop it blowing away or to prevent the wombats knocking it over. Don't bother to stake the tree: it needs a bit of whooshing back and forth by the wind to help it develop a good root system.
Mulch well in spring when the soil has warmed, but don't let the mulch sit next to the trunk or it may encourage rot.
And there you are. A perfectly planted tree.
The next step is waiting and watching. Seeing the magic as it grows from a dead-looking stick to a small, neat being to true leafy magnificence.
And in five years, 10 years, 20, you will gaze at it and think dazedly, "I did that. Me and my little shovel."
This week I am:
- Restaking the guards around the young olive trees – there is a limit to my gifts to wallabies;
- Discovering the deliciousness of home-dried sliced persimmon (thank you, Michael) – incredibly wonderful;
- Thanking the chooks for continuing to lay even though it is cold and dawn comes later each morning;
- Watching the camellia buds fatten and the next crop of flowers bloom after the rain;
- Wondering who ate the bananas – the one year we began to get fat, good-looking bananas they vanish when we head off for a family wedding – a fat banana is a bit big even for a bowerbird and I suspect flying foxes, cunningly waiting until we had gone, and probably snickering from the bushes now we're home again and bananaless; and
- Ordering pea seed – yes, it is true, I have never had a successful crop of peas but these are a new variety with no leaves to tempt wallabies just masses of self-supporting tendrils and, after all, hope springs eternal. And if we don't get to enjoy them, the wallabies and bowerbirds will.
