Romanesco: fractal beauty from the brassica bed

I harvested the first Romanesco heads this week and had to stop and stare.

Those luminous chartreuse spirals feel like a little lesson in pattern and patience. I grow Romanesco because it is delicious, beautiful, and surprisingly resilient in a cool temperate garden like Daylesford.

What is romanesco

Romanesco is a brassica that sits between cauliflower and broccoli. It cooks like cauliflower, with a flavour that is slightly sweeter and nuttier. The texture is tender but holds shape beautifully, which makes it perfect for roasting and for dishes where you want structure on the plate.

Why I plant it

I like plants that serve more than one role. Romanesco offers food, sculptural presence, and a steady supply of leaves for the kitchen (and chooks!). The heads become seasonal markers in the bed, and when they finally appear it feels like the garden offering a small celebration.

How I grow romanesco in a cool temperate garden

Timing

• Sow in late summer to early autumn for spring harvests. In cooler pockets, start seed in trays under cover, then transplant once seedlings are sturdy.

• You can also sow in late winter for late spring to early summer heads if your season allows. Stagger a few sowings to spread the harvest.

Site and soil

• Full sun and rich, living soil are non-negotiable. I prep beds with compost and a light sprinkle of a balanced, organic fertiliser, then mulch after transplanting.

• Brassicas like consistent moisture. My wicking beds hold an even soil profile which helps prevent stress and buttoning. Water at the base rather than overhead to discourage disease.

Spacing

• Give each plant room to develop a full head. I use 45 centimetres between plants and about 45 centimetres between rows. Good airflow is essential.

Protection and care

• Cabbage white butterflies adore brassicas. I keep insect exclusion netting over young plants. If you are not netting, check daily and remove any green caterpillars by hand.

• Feed little and often. I alternate seaweed and compost teas through the season and keep mulch topped up to regulate soil temperature.

• Romanesco appreciates cool nights for head formation. If a sudden warm spell arrives, keep water consistent and shade the bed lightly in the afternoon if needed.

Rotation and companions

• Rotate brassicas yearly to protect soil health and reduce disease.

• Companion plant with dill, calendula, and sweet alyssum to support beneficial insects and soften the edge of the bed. I’ve planted this lots with spinach, lettuce and radicchio for a diverse and thriving polyculture 

Harvest and storage

• Pick when the head is tight, uniform, and firm. Use a sharp knife and keep a few leaves attached to protect the florets.

• Store in the crisper wrapped loosely. Eat within a few days for best flavour.

Small-space tip
Romanesco is a statement plant. If you only have room for one, give it pride of place at the end of a bed or in a large wicking container and underplant with herbs or salad greens.

Kitchen notes and serving suggestions

Roasted romanesco with yoghurt tahini and pomegranate molasses

Break into florets. Toss with extra virgin olive oil, sea salt, and cracked pepper. Add a Middle Eastern spice profile such as cumin, coriander, or za’atar. Roast hot until caramelised at the edges. Finish with a yoghurt and tahini drizzle, a thread of pomegranate molasses, fresh herbs, and toasted nuts.

More ways to serve

• Toss warm florets with anchovy, lemon zest, chilli, and breadcrumbs.

• Steam until just tender, then dress with olive oil, lemon, and parsley for a simple side.

• Cut into small florets for a quick tray bake with chickpeas and red onion.

• Use the leaves as you would kale. Slice and sauté with garlic and a squeeze of lemon.

Cook’s tip

Do not overcook. Romanesco is at its best when the spirals stay intact and there is still a little bite.

Sustainability notes

I like to use the whole plant. The leaves are excellent, the core can be thinly sliced for stir-fries, and any trim goes to the chocks, compost or worm farm. If a plant wants to flower and you do not need seed, let it. The bees will thank you.

Troubleshooting at a glance

• Tiny or loose heads: heat or stress. Keep water steady, mulch well, and plant for the cool end of your season.

• Caterpillars: net early, hand-pick, and encourage beneficial insects with companion flowers.

• Yellowing leaves: a sign of nutrient drawdown. Side-dress with compost and water in.

Continue your gardening journey with me

If you enjoy this kind of content, my workshops offer more detail and guidance on design, productivity and seasonal care.

If you are building your garden from home right now, my ebooks on Wicking Bed Gardens and Introduction to Backyard Chicken Keeping offer practical step by step guidance that pairs well with the workshops.

I share seasonal tips, behind the scenes at Little Cottage on a Hill, and new resources through my newsletter. Subscribe to receive my entire plant list from the garden as a personal thank you.

You may want to check out my related content below:

Rooted in Reflection, Growing with Intention – Explore the intentionality behind creating a garden that serves both purpose and beauty.

The Power of Noticing: How a Garden Wander Led Me to Morels – Explore the quiet magic of noticing the small wonders that grow in your garden.

If You Could Learn Anything From Me This Year, What Would It Be? – Discover what I’ve been reflecting on the workshops I’ve shared over the years—and dreaming into what might come next.

Stay connected for more seasonal inspiration:
Instagram | Facebook | Gardenstead | LinkedIn | Pinterest | YouTube | Website | Newsletter

Thanks so much for following along.
Natasha xx

The Power of Noticing: How a Garden Wander Led Me to Morels

Wandering the garden with a cup of tea in hand is one of my favourite things to do. It’s quiet, slow, unhurried. Just a gentle loop to see what’s changed. For someone with a busy mind and restless hands, these little garden walks are the times I find myself exhaling. My thoughts begin to quiet, and my eyes tune in. I stop thinking about what I need to do next and start noticing what’s right in front of me.

That’s how I spotted them—small, textured caps pushing up through the mulch in the Wicking Bed Garden. I crouched down for a closer look. They had that unmistakable honeycombed morel look to them, but I’d never found any growing in real life despite hunting for them in all the right local spots. I sent a photo to my friend Speedy (@speedy6579), who’s an absolute encyclopaedia when it comes to all things botanical. Shared it with another of his mycologist friends, the verdict was in. Both quite certain and equally surprised that what I’d found was Morchella rufrobrunnea—the blushing morel.

It’s not every day you find morels growing in a little backyard garden in central Victoria. Daylesford no less.

They popped up right on the edge of the paths between the wicking beds, where I laid woodchips last year - a space that was lawn when we first moved here. Now, those mulched paths are quietly composting down beneath our feet, becoming rich, living soil in place. I top them up each season and let the cycle begin again. It seems the fungi have found what they need in that environment. Speedy’s advice is to leave them to mature in place, and the spores might have a chance of spreading and naturalising here.

The idea of more morels, living right here, makes me ridiculously happy.

I learnt today that all Morchella species are edible once cooked. That in itself feels like a bit of a gift.

When we lived at Oak and Monkey Puzzle, one of my favourite autumn rituals was mushroom foraging with the kids—searching the property and adjoining pine forests for Saffron Milkcaps (Lactarius deliciosus) and Slippery Jacks (Suillus luteus). Saffron and Oliver, despite being so young, became absolute pros at spotting them. With the first good autumn rains, they’d race to find the first saffron-stained stem of the season. It’s one of those memories that sticks

And now, on this tiny 515 square metre block, we’ve found morels. It feels like a kind of full circle. Unexpected, but somehow exactly right. A quiet little nod from the soil.

But what it brought up for me—once more—is how important observation is. Not just in gardening, but in everything. I’ve always been that way. Even as a kid, I was the one watching. Noticing small things. The way someone moved, the way the air changed before rain, the signs that something was about to shift. It’s how I’ve learnt to garden—not through hard and fast rules, but through paying attention. Seasons, cycles, subtle changes. All of it teaches you if you stop to notice.

It’s also where I feel the most content. I know that word gets thrown around, but I mean it in the truest sense. It’s where I feel most ‘myself’, most at peace. I’m not sure how to explain it without it sounding a bit ‘woo woo’, but it’s the closest I get to that feeling of being completely in the right place, at the right time. Part of something bigger. Connected to the ecologies of all living things.

So no, it’s not just a random mushroom sighting. For me, anyway, it’s a serendipitous reminder. That when I slow down, and pay attention—even just for a moment—the world has a way of showing us things we never expected. And that’s where the magic is.

---

Workshops are slowing down a little over winter while I focus on writing the book, but if you’d like to keep in touch, the best way is through my monthly newsletter. It’s where I share what’s growing here, what I’m preserving, what I’m learning and so much more—and you’ll be the first to hear when new workshops are announced too.

Subscribe to the newsletter

Explore upcoming workshops

As always, it’s so lovely having you here,

Natasha xx

The Hands That Grow and Cook: A Visit to Bar Midland’s Productive Garden

Bar Midland: A Testament to Sustainability, Provenance, and the Beauty of Productive Gardens

There is something undeniably special about walking through a garden where food is grown with intention—where each leaf, each root, each flower is nurtured not just for sustenance, but as part of a philosophy that honours the land, the seasons, and the act of growing itself. This is precisely what I experienced when I visited Bar Midland’s chef, Alex Marano, and his garden in Chewton, where much of the produce for the restaurant is cultivated.

Nestled in the heart of Castlemaine, Bar Midland is more than just a restaurant—it’s a living, breathing expression of sustainability, provenance, and a deep commitment to the land. Every dish that graces the tables at Bar Midland tells a story of its origins, its growers, and the careful stewardship that ensures its quality. Their approach to food is one that resonates deeply with my own beliefs about productive gardens and living well.

The Chewton Garden: Growing with Purpose

Chef Alex and his wife Dani have created a garden that is more than a source of produce—it is a reflection of their values. Here, the food is grown without chemicals, guided by organic and regenerative practices that enrich the soil and support biodiversity. This thoughtful, hands-on approach ensures that the ingredients used in Bar Midland’s kitchen are fresh, flavourful, and inherently connected to place.

Walking through their garden, I was reminded of why I champion productive gardens—not just as spaces to cultivate food, but as living ecosystems that sustain us, both physically and emotionally. A truly productive garden is not simply about yield; it is about working in symbiosis with nature, creating balance, and fostering abundance in a way that is restorative rather than extractive.

A Menu that Celebrates Provenance

Bar Midland’s menu is a reflection of the rich landscape of Victoria. They celebrate ingredients that are indigenous to this land, as well as introduced species that have become part of our culinary fabric. Their ethos extends beyond traditional farm-to-table concepts, embracing regenerative agriculture, foraged ingredients, and wild foods. Even the wine list is carefully curated to showcase the best of Victorian growers and makers, reinforcing their hyper-local approach.

One remarkable example of their commitment to provenance is Alex’s approach to sugar. Given that sugar is not commercially grown in Victoria, he has taken it upon himself to grow sugar beets and produce his own sweetener. This resourcefulness ensures that even the most fundamental ingredients align with Bar Midland’s ethos of sourcing and creating everything as locally as possible.

This philosophy speaks to the power of provenance—of knowing where our food comes from and valuing the hands that grow it. It is an approach that echoes through my own work with productive gardens and preserving, where every decision is guided by an appreciation for the land and the rhythms of the seasons.

Sustainability as a Way of Life

Sustainability is often discussed in the context of food, but at Bar Midland, it is embedded in every aspect of their operations. From their relationships with local farmers and producers to their commitment to minimising waste, sustainability is not a marketing buzzword—it is a way of life. They honour the traditional custodians of the land, the Jaara Jaara people of Dja Dja Wurrung Country, and work in a way that respects and uplifts the land’s natural cycles.

This is the essence of true sustainability—not just growing food responsibly, but considering how each choice impacts the broader landscape. It is about connection, stewardship, and a genuine respect for the intricate web of life that supports us.

Overcoming Challenges: Managing Kikuyu Grass Organically

One of the greatest challenges Alex has faced in establishing his garden is the relentless spread of kikuyu grass. Given his commitment to organic practices and his refusal to use chemical sprays, he has developed a strategic three-year plan to eradicate this invasive weed. The process begins with laying down plastic sheeting, which is then covered with mulch, effectively smothering the kikuyu over time.

In the meantime, much of his produce is grown in large above-ground garden beds and pots, allowing him to cultivate a diverse range of vegetables and herbs without interference from the encroaching grass. This approach is a testament to the fact that constraints often create opportunities. His efforts demonstrate that if a restaurant can successfully grow its own produce in pots and raised garden beds, then anyone—regardless of space limitations—can cultivate something meaningful, whether on a balcony, in a courtyard, or within a small backyard.

Living Well Through Connection to Land and Food

Visiting Alex’s garden and experiencing Bar Midland’s approach to food reaffirmed my belief that living well is deeply tied to our connection with the land. When we grow, harvest, cook, and eat with mindfulness, we nourish more than just our bodies—we cultivate a way of life that is fulfilling, rooted, and sustainable.

Bar Midland is a shining example of what is possible when food is treated as more than a commodity. It is a place where every ingredient has a story, where sustainability and provenance are woven into each dish, and where the act of dining becomes an experience of connection—to the land, to the growers, and to the community.

In many ways, their approach mirrors my own ethos with productive gardens—creating beauty and abundance in a way that is thoughtful, intentional, and always in symbiosis with nature. It is a reminder that good food is not just about taste, but about the journey it takes to reach our plates, and the values that shape its path.

https://www.barmidland.com/

If you’re passionate about sustainable gardening, provenance, and the beauty of growing your own food, explore my workshops and resources. Join me in cultivating a life that is abundant, connected, and in tune with the rhythms of nature.

Explore my workshops:

~ Garden Design with Natasha Morgan – Craft a garden that balances structure, beauty, and functionality.

~  The Productive Garden with Natasha Morgan – Learn how to grow abundantly, no matter your space.

~ The Wicking Bed Garden with Natasha Morgan – Build a self-watering, water-wise garden for effortless growing.

~ Preserving The Seasons with Natasha Morgan – Capture seasonal flavours with time-honoured preserving techniques.

~ Introduction to Backyard Chicken Keeping with Saffron and Natasha  – Learn how to raise happy, healthy chickens at home.

Follow along on Instagram, Facebook, LinkedIn, and YouTube | Subscribe to my newsletter

Thanks so much for following along—I love sharing this journey with you.

Natasha xx

Growing Zucchini: Space-Saving and Pollination Tips for an Abundant Harvest

Zucchini are a joy to grow, but let’s be honest—they can be space-hungry plants! This morning, as I harvested a mix of Zucchini ‘Nitro’ (green) and ‘Goldy’ (yellow), grown from seeds by the brilliant team at Lambley Nursery, I reflected on the tips and tricks I’ve learnt over the years to grow zucchini successfully without letting them overrun the garden.

If you’ve been struggling with space constraints or are noticing issues with fruit development, this guide is for you. Whether you’re working with a sprawling veggie patch or a modest raised bed, these tips will help you cultivate an abundant, healthy crop of zucchini.

1. Prepare the Soil for Success

Zucchini thrive in a sunny spot with rich, well-draining soil. They’re heavy feeders, so taking the time to enrich their growing area with plenty of compost and aged manure will reward you with lush, productive plants.

In my cool temperate climate here at Little Cottage on a Hill, zucchini can be planted between September and January. Aim to space plants about a metre apart if you’re growing them traditionally.

2. Save Space with Vertical Growing

One of the best lessons I’ve learned is to encourage zucchini to grow vertically. By staking plants or training them to trail over the edges of raised beds, you can save precious garden space and improve airflow around the leaves. This not only keeps your garden looking tidy but also helps reduce the risk of powdery mildew—a common problem during warm, humid summers.

I use sturdy bamboo or hardwood stakes, securing the stems gently with elastic ties as they grow. If you’re using raised beds, consider planting near the edges and allowing the plants to cascade over the sides. It’s a simple change that can make a huge difference.

3. Harvest Regularly for Continuous Yields

Zucchini are most tender and flavourful when picked young. Regular harvesting not only ensures you’re enjoying them at their best but also encourages the plants to produce more flowers and fruit.

During peak season, I make it a habit to check my plants every couple of days. It’s incredible how quickly zucchini can grow—leave them too long, and they’ll transform from petite and perfect to oversized marrows in no time!

4. Water Wisely

Consistent, deep watering is key to growing healthy zucchini plants. Water at the base of the plant to encourage deep root growth and avoid wetting the leaves, as this can exacerbate mildew problems.

During the hottest parts of summer, I water early in the morning or late in the evening, ensuring the soil is evenly moist but not waterlogged. Mulching around the base of the plants can help retain moisture and keep weeds at bay.

5. Address Pollination Problems

If your zucchini are starting to form but the ends are rotting before they mature, the issue is likely poor pollination. Zucchini plants produce both male and female flowers, and for fruit to develop, the pollen needs to be transferred between them.

If you’re not seeing many bees around, don’t despair—you can hand-pollinate. Early in the morning, pick a male flower (it has a straight stem), remove the petals, and gently brush the pollen onto the centre of a female flower (the one with a small swelling at the base). It’s a simple process and one that can make all the difference to your harvest.

What’s Your Experience with Growing Zucchini?

Zucchini are a staple in my summer garden, not only for their abundance but also for their versatility in the kitchen. From quick sautés to homemade pickles, they’re a reminder of why I garden in the first place—to enjoy fresh, seasonal produce straight from the soil.

Have you tried growing zucchini in your garden? I’d love to hear your tips, tricks, and challenges in the comments below. Let’s continue to share and grow together.

Connecting with Nature for Creative Self-Care

There’s a quiet magic in the act of connecting with nature—a soft, grounding presence that whispers us back to ourselves. For me, it’s not just a practice but a way of being—a form of creative self-care that nurtures the spirit while inspiring the work of my hands.

Walking through the Wombat Hill Botanic Gardens or the winding trails of Cornish Hill in Daylesford, foraging for elderflowers kissed by the sun or windfallen apples resting gently on the earth, I find myself rooted in the present. These moments—fleeting yet profound—are my meditation, my ritual, and my joy. They are the essence of living well: simple, intentional, and deeply connected to the rhythm of the seasons.

The Art of Foraging: A Reflection of Living Well

Foraging is my quiet act of mindfulness. It’s more than the gathering of nature’s gifts—it’s a conversation with the landscape, a chance to notice its beauty and abundance. The honeyed fragrance of elderflowers, the dusky richness of elderberries, or the earthy delight of wild mushrooms after the rain—all become treasures waiting to be discovered.

There’s something deeply humbling about holding a windfallen apple, its imperfections a reminder of its story and potential. These small acts of seeking, gathering, and creating feel symbiotic—taking what is freely offered while leaving plenty for the earth to continue its cycle.

Each find carries more than its physical presence. It holds the memory of where it was discovered, the season it reflects, and the joy it sparked in that moment. Foraging invites us to slow down, to step lightly, and to embrace the quiet abundance in unexpected places.

Creating with Nature: From Forage to Preserve

The real magic begins when I bring these offerings into my kitchen. Transforming elderflowers into a delicate syrup or windfallen apples into a warm, spiced chutney becomes an extension of the creativity sparked by foraging. The act of preserving isn’t just about saving the harvest; it’s about capturing the essence of the season—the sweetness of spring, the crispness of autumn, the earthiness of winter.

Each creation feels like a bridge between the natural world and our daily lives. A jar of jam becomes more than a spread for toast—it becomes a memory of golden mornings in the garden, a reminder of the beauty we can hold onto.

To me, this is the heart of self-care: engaging with the world around us in a way that honours its gifts, creates something meaningful, and nourishes not just our bodies but our spirits.

A Life Designed in Symbiosis with the Seasons

My passion for foraging and preserving is intertwined with my work as a landscape architect and my journey of creating gardens that reflect the rhythms of nature. At Little Cottage on a Hill, I’ve distilled years of experience into designing a garden that is not only productive and beautiful but also sustainable. It’s a small space that works hard, much like the land itself, embodying the values I hold dear: creativity, community, and a mindful connection to the seasons.

From espaliered fruit trees lining the verges to wicking beds brimming with herbs and vegetables, every element of my garden mirrors the cycles of growth, harvest, and renewal. These gardens are more than spaces to inhabit; they are places of experimentation, creativity, and community—a canvas for my passions and a prototype for sustainable living.

A Shared Joy: Connecting Through Nature

Beyond the personal, these practices have taught me the value of sharing and connecting with others. Through my workshops and collaborations, I’ve seen how foraging, gardening, and creating can inspire a sense of community and collective care for the earth. Gardens and wild spaces remind us of life’s cycles and the beauty of embracing them, not just as observers but as active participants.

There’s an unparalleled joy in these rituals. Whether I’m walking through the fog-laden forest, tending to my verge garden, or crafting a batch of elderflower syrup, I’m reminded of the quiet abundance that surrounds us. These moments, fleeting yet profound, are the essence of living well as I see it—rooted in nature, mindful, and creative.

An Invitation to Begin to Connect with Nature

If this way of living calls to you, start small. Take a walk through a local park or along a favourite path. Notice the textures of bark, the play of light through leaves, the colours that speak of the season. Perhaps you’ll forage a little—always with care, always with respect.

Try crafting something simple, like a syrup or a small jar of jam. Let the act of creation connect you to the land and its gifts, grounding you in the beauty of the present moment.

Nature has a way of holding us, of inspiring and restoring us, if we let it. By engaging with its rhythms—walking, foraging, preserving, or simply pausing to breathe—we find not only self-care but a sense of belonging.

Here’s to the quiet joys, the mindful moments, and the beauty of a life rooted in nature. Let’s walk gently together, in tune with the seasons, and find our way back to the heart of living well.

"There’s no Wi-Fi in Nature, but I promise you’ll find a better connection."