The Miracle of Nature

I love gardening and I spend a lot of my spare time visiting garden centres, pottering around my garden and generally trying to make room for the plants I feel compelled to buy on a very regular basis.

While I’m very successful in the great outdoors and the garden is blooming, especially with all the rain we’ve had recently in the UK, anyone who knows me knows that the fate of any house plant is another story. Unfortunately they either die of thirst or they suffer the torture of water boarding and eventually drown.

So imagine my horror when a poor innocent orchid came into the house as a mother’s day present, as I unwrapped the beautiful specimen I feared for it’s life. My first move was to put it in the bathroom, there it would have a chance of survival in the steamy atmosphere. Then on one of my many visits to a garden centre I spotted orchid compost, I didn’t know such a thing existed as I had never before entertained the notion that I could keep an orchid alive long enough to repot it. It’s been a long winter and spring since the last original flower dropped, the stalks looked barren but reassuringly the leaves looked very healthy so I was cautiously optimistic that the plant was still showing signs of life.

Then the miracle happened, a few weeks ago I noticed two buds on one of the stalks and just last week they opened and revealed the most beautiful flowers. I don’t mind saying that I am quite proud of my effort and eventual success, But I’m not going to get carried away and fill the house with other house plants, I believe that would be a step too far.

One of the good things about working in the community was chatting to the patients about their gardens. During my time in the Rapid Response Team, to prevent hospital admissions I visited quite a few patients to administer intravenous antibiotics. Most of these drugs were infused over 30 – 60 minutes so there was plenty of time to talk all things plants. One particular chap had a lovely garden and had the most pretty snapdragons amongst the array of beautiful plants. When I returned the following day he had very kindly bunched up a few cuttings for me to take away. They bloomed happily for quite a while in a pot by the back door until, presumably, they died off.

Or so I thought! This spring I noticed something green springing from the back door step. As the season moved on the little crop grew rapidly until it was obvious that the snap dragons had not died off at all. They had apparently taken steroids, taken root in the concrete and erupted into these massive beautiful blooms.

Nature really is miraculous.

Happy Mother’s Day

Today it’s Mother’s Day and may I take this opportunity to wish all mothers a very happy day.

Mothering Sunday is always held on the fourth Sunday of lent, exactly 3 weeks from Easter. Traditionally people visited the church where they were baptised, their mother church. It was also a time when workers ‘in service’ would go home and visit their mothers.

Nowadays it is a day to honour our mums and shower them with cards, gifts, flowers and love.

Unfortunately I’m working all day so won’t see much of my lads or my mum.

On Friday night my brownie and rainbow units held a tea party for their mums, they made flowers, cards and tea for them to celebrate their special day. They did so well and were fantastic hostesses and their mums loved it.

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Always the bridesmaid…..not!

While watching the film “27 Dresses”, (in which the main character was bridesmaid 27 times), last week with my mum and my friend Debbie, we suddenly realised we all had one thing in common….all 3 of us have only been a bridesmaid once in our lives, not only that, we all wore blue dresses for the big day.

My mum was 4 years old and it was for her mum’s cousin’s wedding and Deb was also a bridesmaid for her mum’s cousin and was 7 or 8.

I was only 2 years old and it was my uncle’s wedding. I was one of two small bridesmaids, the other one was my cousin Ann who apparently cried all the way through the ceremony. On the morning of the wedding I was helping one of the adult bridesmaids hang out the washing and was in charge of the pegs. Unfortunately I took my role a little too seriously and wouldn’t let go of the pegs to carry my posy. So instead of carrying a lovely arrangement of summer flowers I had 2 pegs in my podgy little hands.

We have hunted high and low in the house for a picture of me in my dress but couldn’t find one, but here is a very small photo of my mum in 1944.