Arranging flowers

My aunt's passion

Arranging flowers in vases is good therapy. I am convinced of this.

I forget how much it calms my mind; and how much I love “channelling” my beloved aunt (my father’s sister) whenever I cut flowers and put them in a vase. I can just see her standing back and, with a critical eye, making some adjustments. There!

My aunt was a single woman. Perhaps her greatest passion (in addition to books (and unfortunately, too many cigarettes) was gardening. In the village on the UK’s south coast where she lived, the annual Flower Show was a tremendous event, taken very seriously by the participants - or should I say, competitors. I think my aunt was a judge, once. She was friends/rivals with several local gardeners - all men, and mostly rather grumpy.

The Flower Show featured large pumpkins, perfectly shaped tomatoes, delicately hued roses, and the lightest of sponge cakes, I recall. The most important section to me, however, was the flower arranging. I put in entries every year; each competition had a theme. With my aunt’s help, I selected the right vase, and the flowers, and got to work. I would fiddle around for hours.

While the judges walked around the huge, rather warm tent, no one else was allowed in, on pain of eternal banishment. The adjudicating seemed to take forever. We competitors exhaled with a small gasp, as we were eventually let in, and rushed over - trying not to look too obvious - to the large white-clothed tables where our particular entries were. The thrill was seeing a First, Second, or Third rosette. I rarely did, but then I was just a teenage novice at the time. I was very happy with a “Highly Commended.” Sometimes there was a little note from the judge: “Very nice.” Or: “Good use of colour.”

I actually did well with the sponge cakes - the Madeleines, shaped like shells. But my love was the flower arranging. It was more creative.

So now, when I walk round the garden snipping flowers and leaves, and when I bring them inside the house where I continue snipping…

I think of my aunt. Always.

My somewhat eccentric flower arrangement today, in a vase by Jamaican ceramicist David Pinto. I wonder what my aunt would think of it. (My photo)