gerard oosterman.

It just happens that we need flowers in the house as much as vegemite on toast (Helvi) or blankets on the bed.  We could not live without them. Admittedly, this is taken care of more by her than me, although at Aldi I often spot a nice bunch for little money, urging her to get them. The best way is of course to buy  flowering pot plants.

Here in the dry and crispy climes the most outstanding plant with months of flowering would have to be the simple cyclamen. When we wake up,( So far fairly regularly), we are greeted by a pink cyclamen in front of the window frame, with its buds and flowers nodding  at us.

After flowering we were brutal enough to chuck them in the garden, where they die from drought or simply go underground. It was one of those that had gone sub-soil who decided to rear its head last Autumn with the leaves poking up after some rain. Helvi dug up its tuber carefully and potted it. It was given top mulch and some fish emulsion. It  got more leaves and soon the first of its flowering buds. It is now in full glory and the picture above is the one.

They grow wild, with many species in abundance around the Mediteranian countries, usually in subdued light and underneath trees. According to some experts, it came originally from Iran’s mountain slopes and spread throughout Asia Minor, then to Greece, Spain and other countries.

They, the original species, could withstand frost of minus 15c. Amazing. On top of all those delightful qualities, it turns out you can not only admire the cyclamen for it’s looks but also eat them. The leaves in Iran are sometimes used to make tea. It makes one almost want to join the Cyclamen societies of which there are many. Perhaps go to a meeting and see what exciting things members come up with in the simple world of the Cyclamen.

In the world of flowers, there could be nothing more depressing to a cyclamen, or a kalanchoe for that matter,than the popularity of artficial flowers, especially our fondness for those plastic things on graves and tomb stones. Can you imagine the dearly departed, after such difficult and tormented lives, to be further insulted by fading plastic. Even weeds or a gentle dusting by wattle flower  would be better.  Is it true, that a culture is judged by how we look after our dead?

Anyway, who would have thought the cyclamen would pop up in the Goulburn’s region?

Hope is alive.