My three year old self wanted to be a flower. Couldn’t my mother, a keen gardener, just plant and water me somewhere with sufficient sunshine?
No one explained ‘impossible’.
Later I fell under the spell of orchids. Imagination loved the bee, native wasp and ant seduced by appearances, deranged by design and wrapped up in the wisdom of soft petals.
The twenties were romanced by bunches from those seeking to practice pollination.
By mid-thirties, subtropical and tulip surprises erupted from fecund earth.
Mid-life epiphany: I am succulent. Tough, prickly and enduring with low upkeep. When I flower, I am spectacular.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s