Bird of Paradise
A bit flashy, these flowers are the egomaniacs of our garden. Lurid orange creatures shouting "Look at us, we are beautiful!". And they are, but no one likes a show off. I miss the delicate unassuming flowers of England: snowdrops, crocuses, violets, london pride, forget me nots, snapdragons and bluebells. Flowers that know that mid-shin is plenty high enough, that there is secret power in making people bend over to admire you. But deep down I think you get what you deserve. I deserve these gaudy tropical idiots, outrageous bougainvillea, dizzying frangipani - I am too robust for delicate blossoms. In the other(imaginary / parallel) life, where I remained in England and was a spinster with a houseful of cats I almost certainly had a garden full of hollyhocks.
Waist high and mad with colour.
