Me: Thank you. I’m so proud of you.
Plant: Sorry. I can’t answer you because I’m just a plant.
And the tiny cutting I was given of convolvulus mauritanicus has clearly taken root and will soon spill over the sides of its pot and eventually wear a cloak of little upturned mauve trumpets.
Related to the cuttings are what I call my orphans, little self-sown seeds which I have learned to identify from the shape of their very first leaves. With a teaspoon and precision, I lift them from the often-hostile wider world and give them a new home in a well-tended pot filled with rich soil where they will reward me with their flowering and their colour: gazanias, chrysanthemums, alyssum, lupins, nasturtiums, pansies, as well as forget-me-nots by the thousands.
How could anyone not enjoy the vibrant colours and striking geometric patterns gazanias offer. They are a little modest but that’s just a matter of light sensitivity; they open wide in full sun but close up and hide their display at night or even on cloudy days.
An example of Wyn Drabble’s stunning gazanias grown from cuttings. Photo / Wyn Drabble
I have enough little jacaranda trees to start a jacaranda jungle so I have started giving them away to others who share a love of growing things. And have a penchant for purple.
The tiny plants come from three parent trees that drop their crispy-crunchy pods on the ground, whereupon the birds ingest and then eliminate the little seeds, which pretty soon spring up here, there and everywhere but mostly in places unsuitable for another full-sized tree.
I even have a pot of healthy … well … something. I was pretty sure it didn’t look like a weed so I nurtured it. Now, if you can hang on for a moment, I’ll dash outside and photograph it so I can check its identity on one of those plant identifying sites.
Thanks for waiting. I was right. It’s not a weed, it’s Melissa officinalis, more commonly known as lemon balm, apparently useful for calming busy minds or tired brains. Welcome to Hotel Flora, Melissa. I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay.
The little Italian parsley plot I leave to itself. The only assistance required is occasional weeding. No need to dig out and transfer the little seedlings as the plot is only a metre square. It grows, goes to seed and grows again. Lucky because when I, for example, sprinkle Italian parsley on a pizza, I’m never talking a teaspoonful of finely chopped; I’m speaking fistfuls of whole sprigs.
Rosemary and thyme never require any attention either. They just stay put and grow. And get snipped for culinary purposes.
I remember decades ago, people asking whether they could take a cutting of such and such a plant. I always agreed, with grace I hope, but never really knew what they were going to do with the little sprig of foliage that they tucked into their handbag (or manbag).
I know now.
Comments are closed.