CONVERSATIONS WITH FLOWERS

 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!