I have such quirky thoughts while I am gardening and never quirkier than in the lazy, torpid summer time.
The last few weeks have been full of stressful moments both on the family front and in the garden. A torrid wind and rain storm came quickly to visit the country garden, stayed for several days, did quite a lot of damage, left us only to make a return visit a few days later. At the return visit time, I was in the garden, in the pouring rain, trying to clean up the fallen limbs and trees. In this second lashing, there was no permanent damage. Shovelling back the gravel paths that were washed away to an area of grass at least fifty metres down the hill, I got the distinct feeling that the storm came back to see if there had been enough "clearing up" for one year. Now, how odd can one get?
Yes, I am eccentric enough to talk to the flowers. Chattering away last weekend, I listened to myself and found that I had the perculiar habit of sexing the plants. I had not realized I did that. For instance, on breaking a twig off a young Oak Tree, [accidently, by the sheer bulk of my body] I heard myself mutter "Sorry, old chap" Later, when repremanding the roses for developing so much black spot, I examined what I was thinking and came to the conclusion that all roses were feminine, even "Cardinal de Richelieu" and certainly "Cecile Brunner"
I began to play a game with myself. All Conifers are masculine, I mused, they are sturdy, strong and straight. Did that mean that most trees are of a manly bent? What about the Acers? Sugar maples are definitely Mounties in their red jackets but the ornamental Japanese Acers definitely have the delicacy and beauty of a Geisha girl. And the weeping willow? In the first computer game I played [one of the "King's Quest" series] the weeping willow tree was very feminine in the artist's thoughts. Are Princesses always in tears, never the Princes?
Magnolias are definitelly languid sirens and Dahlias and Chrysanthemums are old-fashioned gentlemen. Why? I don't really know, perhaps because Tasmania's famous growers, who exhibit these sturdy flowers, are mainly elderly men. The "thugs" of the garden, the cheeky ones that seed themselves into all kinds of impossible cracks and crannies, they are definitely young boys. Our own gum trees are Australian unisexual - the pioneers, the battlers that fight drought and flood, terrible bush fires and environmental disasters. Burn them down with manmade fires until they are black trunks standing tall and sad with not a leaf left to hide the ugliness and the following year the dainty shoots will emerge from those ebony branches.
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