GO NZ: Michelle Langstone visits Eden Gardens, Auckland’s hidden gem

Word starts to get around in early September: Spring is coming. A friend sends me some intelligence about a street in my neighbourhood that has trees heavy with blossoms, where tūī in great numbers make a production in the branches. I go out especially to see them, and stand under the frothy pink boughs, watching about two dozen of the birds flounce and tumble through the branches, extending their songs into rippling melodies that blend into the bright sunlight.

I go out to look for spring everywhere I can after that, inspecting gardens on my usual routes for signs of the cheery season. By chance, I come across Eden Garden, tucked in against one side of Maungawhau (Mt Eden). I had no idea this garden existed. Secreted away on Omana Ave, it’s a garden Frances Hodgson Burnett would be proud of. I arrive one weekday morning, ushered in by freezing spring gusts, and I’m greeted by beds of tulips, shouting the joy of the season.

Read More

  • GO NZ: Michelle Langstone spends a romantic weekend on Lake Rotoiti – NZ Herald
  • Michelle Langstone: Exploring Auckland’s Te Henga/Bethells Beach walkway – NZ Herald
  • Travel opinion: Michelle Langstone’s complaint about airport luggage carousels – NZ Herald
  • GO NZ: Michelle Langstone visits Miranda’s Pūkorokoro Shorebird Centre – NZ Herald

It’s the kind of garden where you can wander down avenues of very old trees, in the shade of the maunga, and feel you are further away, not just down the road from your house. It’s old-fashioned, a little quaint, and in the deepest, darkest parts, cobwebs bloom in the trunks of trees and in the rockeries, and it feels as if you’re in a fairy tale.

There are bromeliad and native fern glades to admire, glossy with new life, and smelling of fresh-pressed earth, and rain. If you’re willing to tackle some steeper slopes and stairs, gorgeous views over canopies of native trees await, the rhododendrons in outrageous and unashamed bloom. While I watch, an enormous kererū falls from the sky into a dive roll, recovering just in time to land on the flimsy branch of a tree.

Source: Read Full Article