Foraging in the Red Zone

I began foraging in the Red Zone with a little hesitation, because even the name brings a feel of somewhere to be very cautious of. It covers 1500 acres of land that prior to earthquakes here in Christchurch in 2010-11 had about 8000 houses and their home gardens spread over them. Following the earthquakes the land structure had shifted, and the water table rose, making the ground less stable for houses to be on. The government bought the houses, and removed them, and now what remains are the remnants of the gardens that had once been lovingly tended. Nature has taken over, and only the most hardy strong plants have survived. Roads are still there, with grass and weeds growing through them and power poles with no power. Over a decade later it still has a poignant feel to it.

The poignant sign on the pole is from a community group that helped this neighbourhood before the earthquakes.

However what I see and feel is a sense of how nature and life still go on, and that there is beauty in that, along with growth and regeneration. Plants grow untended so they have their natural form and movement, which is one of the reasons that I especially love what I find. There are more reasons I forage, the first is because of the style of flowers I love. Mine are always about natural movement, lines and flow, and I knew that I would find that far more in nature than in the straight even stems that are traditionally used in floristry. This is why I forage, and because I can not find many of the treasures anywhere else. Oh and in case you wonder, yes it is legal to forage there, many do for fruit, nuts and mushrooms in autumn.

Strawberry tree is such a favourite of mine to include in my arrangements. And it is edible, an odd texture but quite nice taste!

Bringing foraging into my life has guided me to become a more astute observer of the seasonal nature of flowers, and especially has awoken my eyes to details that I might have overlooked before. I forage as much for the state of mind and presence that I sink into. I have learnt to really observe, to be in the moment, studying detail, listening, being a part of nature. Birds are always nearby, they sometimes accompany me flitting beside, occasionally I see a mouse scurrying away, hedgehogs snuffle and wander, and hawks soar overhead searching for those mice.

Most visits include a chat with a friendly dog, they’re allowed off lead here and always look as if they are revelling in the joy and freedom. Their owners look as if they are too. Often there is a little friendly greeting and a few words between us that are really saying that we both are thankful for this place and our time there. Even with complete strangers. I never feel worried about the people I meet there, perhaps because there are always smiles that I am wandering along with a bunch of flowers. I’ve given up worrying that I might look mad!

A spring forage with kowhai and pieris.

Here I feel the poignancy and history of this place, many of the trees that were planted long ago are still here in their majesty. I feel the scale and wildness of the trees, especially given the contrast with how cities have become fields of subdivision housing with their controlled lines and planting. I feel a sense of returning home in the established towering trees like stately copper beech, knarled old walnut trees, phoenix palms and a weeping elm that may well have hosted family picnics within it’s arms on a sweltering summer day. Plants here have continued on with absolutely no upkeep and have their natural form, with no clipping or control inflicted upon them. Well, except for the occasional little snippet from lucky foragers like me!

There are several magnificent phoenix palms in the area. And dozens of cabbage trees, many have self seeded.

When I am here my whole body feels alive. My eyes are scanning for details, lines, tones, and textures are all being filtered through possibility and potential. Often something catches my eye, it is noted and tucked away in what has become a vast mental reference diary. A stem might not be quite ready in it’s maturity or it may not be until next week or month that I have a use for it. It could even be a year away, but my memory for plants and places is pretty jolly good I’ve found.

I’m sure this must have been someone’s driveway, it’s plantings like this that really show how this was once cultivated gardens.

And for the final chapter of what has become a novel…well done if you have read this far! I’ll share with you what kinds of things I forage and why. I will mention that I really don’t use a lot of foliage in my arrangements or bouquets. What I do use is included for it’s form, colour, line or other interest. It is never there just to fill a space. I hope knowing this might help you to understand what I look for and why.

I look for foliage that has form and lines that are most beautiful, it might be the leaf shape, is almost always about the spacing and size of the leaf, and the movement and arc of the stem. Examples of this are abelia, hornbeam in spring, and native red beech.

Colour is an element that I seek out in foliage, especially tones beyond only green. Favourites are spirea, smoke bush, especially the green variety when it changes to flaming red in autumn. The whole bush literally looks like it is on fire. Another I adore in autumn is spindleberry, it has stunning foliage, shocking pink berries and an elegant arc of stem if chosen carefully.

I look for textures and the whispy dancing details that I feel give the eye moments of delight to discover in my flowers. Plums on the branch, crab apples, rosehips, tendrils of jasmine, grasses and curls of miscanthus all are carried home like treasure.

And there are the flowers. Ones that I can not source anywhere else, nor have space to grow in my garden. I am especially sentimental about these ones, they are all old traditional flowers, that I adore. Lilac is possibly top of my list, closely followed by wisteria, philadelphus, pieris and little sweetheart roses like Cecil Brunner and Perle d’Or.

Rowan berries are another autumn favourite.

If you were to see me foraging, it is not a swift thing. I stand looking carefully at a plant before deciding which stem is perfect. It is always about the grace and movement of the line, and I cut carefully considering how the plant will be rejuvenated with it. I only take what I know I will use, often an hour of foraging will have me returning happily to my car with only a handful of stems. But oh they are the perfect ones! I return home happy, inspired, my mind is cleared and my heart full.

A winter sunrise along the banks of the Avon River in the Red Zone.

I hope this has given you a feel for what it looks and feels like in the Red Zone, I have tried to show the reality of it but truly it is the pockets of beauty and the feel of reverence that nourish me and my flowers. I would love it if it were given a new name, one that reflects what it is now, rather than what it was in the short time after the earthquakes. Something more beautiful.

Katherine X

Photography by Jannine Newman and Simone Gonzalez