CONVERSATIONS WITH FLOWERS
It is a well known fact that our plants respond to conversation and even music. I did read a book about this subject and freaked out when it was stated that carrots shriek when pulled up - I guess l would shriek too 'don't eat me - don't eat me'.
Brian has been having unusual conversations as we travel - 'what do you think sheep are thinking while munching grass'.
My answer 'here comes the truck - run - run fast!!!' To his delight a new add on TV was about what flies were saying. I can't wait to hear the next installment to this conversation when we head off into NSW and Victoria at the end of this month for two weeks to do some book signings - I will post details later.
Meanwhile enjoy this read as l recover from a day trip to Floriade in Canberra - thankyou Anglicare and Ray our bushfire chaplain for organising this and picking me up at 6am then dropping me off around 10.30 in the evening after a wonderful day. The above photo was taken there and l will add others after the story showing that many people were there to talk to the flowers.
People must think l’m batty but l talk to flowers.
The thing l miss most while travelling is a garden. My contact with plants is pretty minimal. I’m at the appreciation stage – the final step in my love of growing things.
As a child I was surrounded by
gardeners.
My Dutch grandfather grew a
hillside of vegetables, fruit and nut trees.
On my mother’s side of the family Grandma Sarah grew pretty much
everything. On Woodmans Hill just
outside Ballarat she had a huge orchard, extensive vegetable garden, hothouses
for fragile plants and propagation, and a rambling English cottage garden.
The Secret Garden and all the Limberlost
books by Gene Stratton Porter were my favourite reads, losing myself in the
beauty of walled gardens and the everglades.
My mother loved camellias and
peony roses. Her passion for growing
asparagus was almost manic. Death threats were issued if we dared to approach
her beds of green emerging spears.
Dad followed his father’s lead and
planted a paddock of vegetables. As
kids we weren’t encouraged to experiment ourselves, merely allowed to help out
with a little weeding.
At primary school we had our own
little flower patches growing plants from seed – magical!
Later in life l discovered
Australian native plants and created gardens filled with nectar-bearing plants
to tempt birds and insects. At one stage
l had two building blocks landscaped with a stream and ponds. Pathways
meandered through stands of trees, shrubs and patches of native orchids. Gang gang cockatoos fed at eye level on seed
pods while echidnas swam across the ponds with their little beaks above the
water like periscopes.
I even devoted most of the
backyard to vegetables filling our freezer with home grown produce. The soil originally was buckshot gravel but
after much preparation with bags of gypsum, compost and mulch it produced
bumper crops of juicy tomatoes, corn, broad beans and thousands of zucchini.
Now, garden-less, I use my camera
to capture the beauty of the bush and flowers.
I lie on my tummy on bush tracks trying to photograph orchids.
At Christmas l was loitering
outside the hardware store when l spotted a trolley overflowing with
multi-coloured hibiscus plants. One
almost yelled out to me. I just had to
have it.
I decided to give it to the park
owners as a gift. I was really keen to
have this plant nearby.
“Yes – just plant it near the
amenities” Bucky suggested “it won’t get into the spouting there or cause any
trouble.”
Each day that stunning hibiscus
presents a new flower. Every day l, and
all the campers, tenderly touch it and praise the plant for giving us so much
joy.
Then Bucky told me to “remove all
the flowers so it can grow faster.”
I cried as l pinched off the
flowers apologising profusely. I
rebelled, leaving a flower bud on each branch while still feeling like a
murderer.
Planted deep inside my being is a
garden of love for growing things!
