A native garden is not a picture of somewhere else. It is this place, arranged. Somewhere between one and two metres of rain lands on this coast in an ordinary year, most of it between December and March, some of it sideways, and every species on our lists grew up expecting exactly that. Put them where they would put themselves and they ask for very little.
So we water deeply and rarely, and the roots go down instead of sideways. We let leaf litter lie; it is next year's soil. We plant small: we buy tubestock and wait, because a tubestock forgets its pot inside a season and walks past the advanced specimen by the third summer. Patience, here, is a construction method.