Wednesday, May 27, 2026

The Dry Season Settles In ... My Dry Tropics Journal ... End-of-Autumn, May 2026

Garden Journal Entry  -  May

Weather Log for the month:

Seasons:  End-of-Autumn / Dry Season 
Maximum Temps:  25°C - 31°C            
Minimum Temps:  11°C - 22°C
Humidity Levels:  40 - 70%   
Hours of daylight:  11 hrs 10 mins
Rainfall:  0 mm (0 ins.) 



May: a true threshold month in the garden

By the end of May, the garden no longer feels newly released from the wet season. That was April’s story — the relief of being able to garden again, the first proper clean-up, and the great return to jobs that had felt almost impossible during the long, hot, humid months.

May feels different.

The rain has stopped. The air is drier. The ground is now very firm underfoot, and the sky has taken on that enormous dry-season blue that seems to stretch forever above the garden.

The days are still warm — this is North Queensland after all — but there is less weight in the air now. The afternoons are softer and the evenings are cooler. Not a southern winter chill, of course, but that lovely dry-tropics coolness that arrives almost as a surprise after months of heat and humidity.

Our tropical winter is approaching.


Garden Conditions

This is the month when the garden asks for small, sensible attention rather than big dramatic effort.

A little mulch here. A shifted pot there. Some trimming. Some watering decisions. Some slow wandering and close looking.

The garden is still green, but 0 mm of rain for the month tells its own story. May is the time to start thinking ahead and looking at the garden with dry-season eyes. Which plants will need more shelter as the dry continues? Which pots are too exposed? Which ones are too far from the hose? Which garden beds need topping up before the soil begins to dry out properly?

The same pots that were too wet in February will dry out quickly in the clearer, breezier weather. May is a good month for rethinking positions, rescuing tired specimens, and deciding which containers deserve the prime spots close to water.


The skies have been stunning — wide, bright, brilliant blue — and they have changed the whole feeling of the garden. After the greyness and heaviness of the wet season months, that clear blue sky makes everything feel lighter and more open.

These are the mornings when I find myself noticing the smaller things. A plant that has quietly improved. A flower hanging on longer than expected. A fern looking particularly pleased with itself in the shade house. A patch of weeds that is not going to pull itself out, no matter how patiently I ignore it.


Gardening Tasks

May has been a month of pottering in the best sense of the word — noticing, adjusting, rescuing, shifting, trimming, and slowly setting the garden up for what comes next.


Mulching is vital for the outdoor garden beds particularly for the
- spaces with poor soil that are exposed to mostly direct sunlight during the hottest part of the day (on the left)
- and the spaces that have only recently been established and need care (on the right).

Mulching has become one of the important dry-season jobs. It may not be the glamorous side of gardening, but it is one of the most useful. A good layer of mulch helps keep moisture in the soil, protects roots, and gives the garden a better chance of moving through the dry months without too much stress.

Potted plants have also needed attention. I have been moving some into better light, giving others a little more shelter, and generally trying to make sensible decisions before the dry season properly settles in.


There has also been weeding, of course.

Weeds creep through in between pavers, colonise garden edges, and pop up between treasured plants in garden beds and pots. Some are still easy to pull while the soil holds a little moisture. Others have already made themselves far too comfortable.

This is also a good time to notice what has self-seeded. I rarely find welcome little volunteers. They are usually future thugs in disguise. The trick is learning which is which before the garden makes the decision for you.

There is something satisfying about May weeding though. It feels less like the desperate catch-up work of early autumn and more like preparation — reclaiming the garden section by section before the dry season hardens the soil and makes everything more difficult.

Nothing too grand or ambitious. Just sensible dry-season gardening.


Garden Highlights

May brought some lovely little garden rewards.



The potted Plectranthus saccatus have been putting on a fabulous display out in the courtyard. They have that generous way of filling a pot and softening a space, and at the moment they are doing it beautifully.





The potted Impatiens walleriana have also been a quiet triumph. After looking thoroughly unimpressed with life during the wet season, they have recovered. All of them. 





It is a small thing, perhaps, but after watching them struggle through the heavy rain and humidity, seeing them freshen up again feels like a proper little garden victory.





Near the car shed, the Iris domestica, commonly known as the Blackberry Lily or Leopard Lily, was showing off its last bloom. Just one — but it caught my eye. These last flowers of a season always feel worth noticing. They are like a final word before the plant slips back into the background.




Under the pergola, the pink Begonia semperflorens has been producing the tiniest blooms. They are not showy in a loud way, but they are beautiful. Little details like that are easy to miss if I am rushing, but May encourages slower looking.





And in the shade house, the beautiful Davallia fejeensis, the Rabbit’s Foot Fern, is showing exactly why it is such a great plant for that protected space. Its soft, divided fronds and those wonderfully strange furry rhizomes seem perfectly at home there.




Seasonal Markers

Autumn colours are not a usual occurrence here in the dry tropics, certainly not in the way they are in cooler climates. But there are still some trees that mark the seasonal change in quieter ways. 


One of these is Lagerstroemia speciosa. It is winter deciduous, and as the dry season transition begins, the older leaves turn red or rusty-coloured before falling during our mid to late autumn.


Another marker at this time of year is the native Eucalyptus platyphylla, commonly known as the Poplar Gum. It is notably dry-season deciduous, and as the season shifts, the outer layer of bark begins to fall away, revealing the smooth white trunk beneath. Looking around my garden and the surrounding bush land, I noticed the Poplar Gums are all at different stages of this process. Some have already shed most of their rough outer bark, while others are still in the middle of letting go.


As autumn ends, one of my favourite sights in the garden is the burst of colour from my Calliandra haematocephala, or red Powderpuff, and Calliandra surinamensis, or pink Powderpuff. The flower buds look like little raspberries before they bloom — first green, then red. Once they open, the individual flowers are small, but they cluster together to form those wonderful soft, spherical powderpuff blooms. It is a delightful sight, and another little signal that the season is shifting.


Smoke on the Horizon

May also brought one of the unmistakable signs that the dry season has begun.


Planned burning has started near where we live, in the Mt Elliott section of Bowling Green Bay National Park. Yesterday, as we were driving into our rural suburb, we could see plumes of smoke rising in the distance. This morning, there was still a faint hint of smoke hanging around the foothills.

It is another seasonal marker.

In the dry tropics, the approach of winter is not only about cooler mornings, crisp evenings, and pleasant gardening weather. It is also about drier grasses, clearer skies, smoke on the horizon, and the start of bushfire season.

The garden might be my daily focus, but it sits within a much larger landscape. The foothills, the bush paddock, the national park, the grasses drying out beyond the garden fence — they are all part of the same seasonal story.

May makes that very clear.


What Flowered During May?


The Justicia brandegeeana, or Shrimp Plant, has been covered in blooms. It is one of those plants that always seems to bring cheer to a garden corner, with its curious, layered flowers and easy-going character.

The last of the Mussaenda philippica x flava ‘Calcutta Sunset’ flower sprays are still hanging on too. They are past their peak now, but still beautiful in that lingering, end-of-season way. I always admire plants that hold onto their colour just a little longer than expected.

The Gerberas have been blooming once more, which feels like another small reward. Their flowers have such simple brightness to them — bold, cheerful, and impossible to ignore.

The rather leggy Salvia madrensis, or Golden Fountain Salvia, continues to show off its flower spikes. It may not be the neatest plant in the garden, but when those yellow flowers appear, all is forgiven. Some plants earn their space by being tidy. Others earn it by having a moment.


Closing Reflection

May in a Townsville dry tropics garden is a quieter kind of beauty.

It is found in the big blue sky, the clearer air, the crisp evening coolness, and the pleasure of wandering without hurry. It is found in small jobs, sensible decisions, fresh foliage, late flowers, and the gentle satisfaction of seeing a few tired plants spring back to life.

The garden is no longer simply recovering from the wet. It is settling into the drier part of the year with plants slowing, shedding, and conserving themselves.

Wintertime is drawing close, and we are beginning to feel its first cool touch.


Until next time,
🌸 Happy gardening from the dry tropics!


Saturday, May 9, 2026

April In My Townsville Garden ... My Dry Tropics Garden Journal ... Mid-Autumn, April 2026

Garden Journal Entry  - April

Weather Report for the month:

Seasons:  Mid-Autumn / Start of the Dry Season 
Maximum Temps:  26°C - 32°C            
Minimum Temps:  16°C - 24°C
Humidity Levels:  60 - 70%   
Hours of daylight:  12 hrs 30 mins
Rainfall:  15 mm (around half an inch) 



Yes, it's been a while since my last post dear gardeners and my excuse - our 2025–2026 summer conditions and wet season lingered for quite some time and the combination was not much fun for either a dry tropics gardener or the garden! 


The challenges experienced from December through to March continued - heat, relentless humidity, scorching sun that rose early and set late, annoying and abundant insects, sodden ground, rampant weed growth, overgrown beds.  Some plants loved it, but many others struggled with the sheer persistence of the heat and the endless heavy rain.  


My gardening efforts dwindled to almost nothing. By the end of March, everything felt tired, overgrown, or in need of attention. The arrival of April felt so good. 


💛 Mid-autumn in the coastal dry tropics

April, our mid-autumn month, is always the time when the garden catches its breath. When the wet season is no longer in command, there is a subtle easing in the weather conditions that feels so welcome. The horrid, hot, humid days end, as do the endless heavy downpours of rain. The lovely milder days and cooler nights set in, and constant breezes move through the garden drying things out considerably. It becomes safer and easier to move around the garden once more, and after months of slippery paths, soggy ground and oppressive humidity, that felt like a real pleasure.


🌿 The feel of April



April is one of the gentler gardening months in Townsville and the start of my favourite time of year. It is not that the garden suddenly changes overnight, but the whole place begins to feel different. The air is lighter, the mornings are cooler and the light seems clearer. After the greyness and saturation of the wet season, those big, bright, clear blue skies are a welcome sight.



We also begin to see some stunning sunrises at this time of year, and they always seem to mark the turning of the season for me. There is still warmth in the days, of course, but the edge has gone out of things. The garden is still full and green after the wet, but it no longer feels burdened by it.


🧤 Catching up on garden jobs after the wet

I was very busy over the last couple of weeks of April, making the most of the cooler mornings and the much kinder conditions. There was lots of weeding and cutting back, which is hardly surprising after such a long wet season. Everything had grown with great enthusiasm, including all the things I did not want.


I also had to re-pot and fertilise a number of the potted plants and hanging baskets, and top up the mulch out in the rock garden beds. These are not especially exciting jobs, perhaps, but they are the sort of essential post-wet season tasks that make such a difference. 


With the cooler morning temperatures, it was actually quite lovely to get back out in the garden and start ticking off these tasks. That is one of the pleasures of April in the dry tropics. The work feels possible again.


Post-wet season fun

The weeds that exploded along the fence line on our property — the one that divides our house yard from our bush paddock — were at the top of the task list and became the target of a planned attack.


During hubby's slash and burn attack.

Hubby deployed the “slash and burn” principle to create a break between the weed-infested mess in the rest of the bush paddock and our side yard. I did not think to take before and after shots, but I can attest to the fact that the weed growth along that fence line was shoulder-high. It was one of those jobs that absolutely had to be done, and has made a huge difference.


There is still plenty more to do, of course, but at least that section no longer looks as though it is about to swallow the yard whole.


🦘 The weed-eaters

There were quite a number of critters out and about, enjoying the post-wet season abundance.


A flock of Sulphur-crested Cockatoos were also doing its bit. They spent a number of days enthusiastically feasting on the seeds of the weedy growth along another fence line. There was (and still is) a massive patch of weeds growing on the other side of our fence — not on our property unfortunately, so we couldn't attack that as well.



The Agile Wallabies however helped us out a little.  They spent every morning and evening feasting on the multitude of weeds that sprang up in our front and side yards during the wet season.


🌼 Autumn wanderings

Wanderings are wonderful at this time of the year. With lovely blooms here and there, it is simply a fabulous time to be out in the garden, enjoying the colour and foliage rather than just trying to cope with the conditions.


Out in the bush land, the native Acacias were blooming throughout April. 




Both Acacia mangium, with its creamy lemon flowers, 







and Acacia auriculiformis, with its golden yellow flowers, brightened the landscape. 


They are both a lovely reminder that autumn in the dry tropics has its own beauty.




The Kookaburras kept an eye on my progress in cleaning up the place, quietly supervising proceedings from above. 



I also noticed lots of lovely moths, dragonflies and butterflies fluttering around. After the long wet, it was nice to see this lighter, livelier side of the garden returning.


💛 What flowered during April?


Top left:  Jasmine officinale (Poet's Jasmine)
Top right:  Adenium obesum (Desert Rose)
Middle left:  Combretum constrictum (Thailand Powderpuff)  
Bottom left:  Ixora
Bottom right:  Coleus flowers

Top left:  Streptocarpus caulescens (Nodding Violet)
Top middle:  Ixora
Top right:  Pennisetum rubrum (Purple Fountain Grass)
Bottom left:  Pseudomussaenda flava (Dwarf Yellow Mussaenda)
Bottom right:  Begonia semperflorens (Wax Begonia)

🌱 What April asks of the garden

April asks for recovery rather than urgency. After a long wet season, it is the month for restoring order, reclaiming space, and helping the garden settle into a steadier rhythm. There is weeding to be done, plants to cut back, pots to refresh, mulch to top up, and all the small maintenance jobs that are so easy to put off during the worst of summer.


It is also the time of year when I am able to spend much longer out in the garden again. The cooler mornings, milder days and constant breezes make such a difference. After months of working around heat, humidity and rain, April brings back that sense of ease. Jobs that felt rushed or unpleasant in summer can now be done slowly and properly, with time to stop, notice things, and enjoy being outside as well.


April also reveals what has come through the wet season well and what has not. Some plants respond to the change in season by freshening up almost immediately, while others show just how much the heat, humidity and endless rain have taken out of them. The garden begins to tell you what needs pruning, what needs feeding, what needs replanting, and what simply needs time.


Most of all, April asks for a gentler kind of work. The garden no longer needs to be battled with — it needs to be read, tidied, and guided into the next season. That is one of the things I love most about this time of year. There is something very restorative about April in the dry tropics. The work is still there, but it comes with room to notice, to wander, and to enjoy the garden again.


Until next time,
🌸 Happy gardening from the dry tropics!


Monday, March 2, 2026

Rain, Humidity & Heavenly Perfume ... My Dry Tropics Garden Journal ... End of Summer, January & February 2026

Garden Journal Entry - Week 9 catch-up
(a two-month wet season recap)

Weather Report for both January & February:

Seasons:  End of Summer / Mid Wet Season 
Maximum Temps:  25°C - 36°C            
Minimum Temps:  20°C - 27°C
Humidity Levels:  70 - 90%   
Hours of daylight:  12 hrs 30 mins
Rainfall: 1011 mm (around 40 ins) - over 40 days across two months


The new gardening year started with a drenching — here in the foothills of our rural suburb, over 200 mm (around 8 inches) of rain fell in just 24 hours on the very first day of 2026. Almost instantly, little streams and tiny waterfalls popped up all around our property as the already sodden ground struggled to absorb the downpour. 


On our sloping block, that meant a surprising amount of run-off: water finding every low point, carving temporary channels, and reminding me (again) that wet season gardening isn’t just about the plants — it’s about the land itself and how it moves water.  Work continued throughout the start of the year on the creation of diversion banks and channels along our fence line to allow the wet season run-off to flow onto the bush paddock without causing erosion in our front yard.


Wet Season 2026

The runoff channels / diversion bank work

Compared to ...

Wet Season 2024

The front yard being carved up by the wet season deluge


The months of January and February in my coastal dry tropics garden are always a bit of a paradox: this is the time of year when everything looks like it should be thriving, given the amount of rain … and yet it’s also when you discover which plants only ever loved you in the mild months.


Summer 2026 brought the full wet-season energy to Townsville - hot, humid, and oppressive conditions with excruciatingly high daytime temps., very warm nights, exceedingly steamy mornings, short and intense afternoon thunderstorms, sudden downpours that feel like someone tipped a bucket over the sky, and that familiar rhythm of “it’s fine… it’s fine… oh wow, it’s really not fine.”


The sound of rain on the corrugated tin roof after a long dry season is one of my favourite sounds
... but the initial love does fade during a lengthy wet season!


The weather story (aka: why the pots sulked)

Looking at the Townsville Aero Weather Station daily observations, January 2026 delivered a hefty 657.2 mm (26 ins.) of rain in total, with a biggest daily fall recorded at 223.0 mm (9 ins.). That’s the sort of month where you stop “watering” and start “triaging.”


February stayed firmly in wet-season mode too, with 353.8 mm (14 ins.) recorded for the month. Still humid, still lush, still plenty of moisture around - just with a little more breathing space between the soaking events.


In the garden at my place, that translated to:

  • potting mix staying wet for days (even the “free draining” stuff)

  • leaves and mulch that never quite dried out, especially in crowded corners

  • fungal spots and stem rot waiting for one overcast week to make their move

  • and that tricky combo of heat + humidity where plants can look fine… right up until they don’t!


One of the potted plants moved to the "Wet Season Triage Corner"
- a soggy pot, a rotting plant, and lots of lovely mould 


The reality check: garden time was… patchy

One of the most defining things about January and February this year (and most years) wasn’t just what the wet season did to the plants - it was what it did to my ability to be out there with them.


Time in the garden was limited by the lengthy (and sometimes very heavy) periods of rain, the muddy, slippery sections underfoot, and the kind of high humidity that turns a quick potter into an instant sweat-soaked expedition. On many days it wasn’t so much choosing when to garden, as waiting for a small weather window to appear.


Whenever it was possible to get out into the garden - usually early mornings or late afternoons - I kept the jobs simple and sensible. This was not the season for big projects or major reshuffles. Most visits came down to two things:

  • Weedingbecause wet season weeds do not take days off, and

  • Monitoring plant health, especially anything in pots or anything showing early signs of stress - yellowing, spotting, limp growth, or stems that felt a little too soft for comfort.


And honestly? That kind of slow, watchful gardening suits this season. In a wet tropical summer, the garden is doing a lot without you - growing, flowering, recovering, sometimes struggling - and your job is mostly to notice and respond when and where you can.


The casualties: Impatiens and Coleus (my annual wet-season lesson)

This year’s wet-season losses were mostly in pots - Impatiens and Coleus, in particular. They’re such generous colour-givers… but in prolonged humidity and repeated rain, potted plants can go downhill fast. Wet feet, softened stems, and that moment where you realise the plant hasn’t “wilted”… it’s collapsed.


My big takeaways (yet again!): in a Townsville summer, pots need airflow, height, and escape routes.  I always forget how quickly pots can turn in this weather ... I should know better.

  • Lift pots so they can drain freely (feet, bricks, anything)

  • Thin out crowded plantings so leaves actually dry

  • Accept that some soft-stemmed beauties are basically wet-season annuals (even when the label says “perennial”)

Next wet season I'm going to pretend I'm organised and actually do the airflow pruning earlier!!!!! 😉

The real headline of Jan–Feb:  Perfume ... everywhere!

While these last two wet season months have been a stress test, as usual, they have also given me the loveliest reward: fragrance, drifting through the garden in waves - sometimes creamy, sometimes sharp-green, sometimes sweet and nostalgic.  Because garden visits were brief and weather-dependent, the perfume wafting throughout the garden felt even more vivid - like the garden's way of greeting me the moment I stepped outside.


Gardenia ‘Soleil d’Or’

Gardenia mutabilis 'Soleil d'or" in full bloom
- the highly scented blooms open white, turn yellow, and then finally gold as the flowers mature

This was the star - that rich, buttery gardenia scent that feels almost textured. Some days it floated on the air all around the driveway and pathway entrances to our house; other days it was concentrated and heady, like the whole garden was wearing perfume. In the wet-season humidity, fragrance seems to hang around longer, especially in the evening.


Jasmine

Jasmine grandiflorum, commonly known as the Poet's Jasmine
- this vine has lots of very fragrant large single flowers

Jasmine in summer is like a soundtrack you don’t realise you’ve been missing until it starts again. It’s lighter than gardenia but it carries - and when the air is still after rain, it can travel from out in the courtyard (where it's planted) through to all the rooms at the back of the house.


Murraya paniculata 

Murraya paniculata (commonly known as Mock Orange or Orange Jessamine
- this tall-growing shrub is covered in beautifully scented white flowers

Murraya has its own kind of magic - a clean, sweet, citrusy-floral scent that reads as “freshly washed air” to me. When it’s flowering well, it’s the plant that makes you pause without thinking: you just stop because something smells good.  They grow all around the house and throughout the garden, creating a heavenly perfume wherever you walk.


What I love about this season (even with the soggy setbacks)

There’s something very dry-tropics about finding joy in the between moments: that short window after a storm when everything is dripping, birds and butterflies are busy again, and the garden smells like leaves, wet mulch, and flowers all at once.


Yes, I lost a few potted plants. But the trade-off was a garden that, for weeks on end, was scented by Gardenia, Jasmine and Murraya - not just occasionally, but daily. A true wet-season gift.


Notes to self for next summer

  • Keep the “softies” (Impatiens/Coleus) in higher, breezier spots 

  • Treat them as seasonal and take cuttings in the cooler months so more plants are established, ready to replace the lost mature ones

  • Refresh potting mix before the worst humidity hits

  • Prune for airflow earlier (before the garden turns into a jungle)

  • Always plant something for fragrance, because it changes how you feel in the garden



End of Summer Colour & Interest



Around the courtyard
- Ferns, Caladiums,  Eucharis grandiflora (Amazon Lily) and Jasmine




Under the pergola in the courtyard garden
- Allamanda, Ferns, Coleus, Impatiens, Begonia




In the shade house garden
- Impatiens, Ferns, Coleus, Caladium, Alocasia, Evolvulus 




In the outdoor garden beds
- Hymenocallis, Gloriosa, Croton, Turnera, Lagerstroemia, Mussaenda, Ixora 



Closing Thoughts


As February rolled toward its end, it felt like summer was loosening its grip - not in any dramatic way, but in small shifts: a touch more breathing space between the downpours, a slightly softer edge to the afternoons and evenings, and a garden that has proven to be both resilient and ruthless.


We're heading into early autumn with fewer pots than I started the summer with, a sharper eye on plant health, and a deep appreciation for the true heroes of these past months - the gardenia, jasmine and murraya - whose perfume turned even the muddiest, most humid wet-season into something memorable.



Until next time,
🌸 Happy gardening from the dry tropics!