Gift of Green Fire and Other Strange Encounters

by Linda Talbot

  She runs from the trees and hears Himonas utter a low cry of distress. Gabrielle sees only the tall white lilies, swaying against the lustful lick of volcanic fire. She hurries through the hindering snow; human now, unable to glide with the deception of dream.

  As she nears the lilies’ whiteness; the golden anthers protruding like tiny orbs of sunshine within ice, she feels again the dichotomy of innocence and man-made sin. She recalls how the first lily was said to have grown from tears shed by Eve when she was banished from the Garden of Eden.

  Later the white lily was the Virgin Mary’s emblem; the petals symbolising purity, the golden anthers, her soul. Hence the later name of Madonna Lily. Before Christianity, lilies were associated with the Great Goddess.

  Gabrielle gazes at them; stark against the dancing fire. Suddenly, her face, like a symbol of conflicting thought, seems to split in two. She raises her hands and feels her frozen skin. It appears to be whole yet the sensation of painful division persists.

  She screams and turning, briefly sees Himonas, head bowed, weeping perhaps, by the trees. Gabrielle lies down, beneath a nodding lily that gazes implacably, as the woman’s body is rapidly buried by flurries of fresh snow.

  Gabrielle wakes to sun streaming through her window. A dream. Relieved, she rises but is alarmed to find her limbs stiff and cold. A freezing crystal inexplicably melts on her left arm. She looks in the mirror. Her face is whole, but her eyes are wide as though, in fear, she has witnessed some terrible event.

  She looks out of the window; at the lawn, already sun-drenched, the pool, a place of potentially cool contemplation and the flowers, brazen in the sun. There is a new terracotta pot by the pool. In it grow three tall white lilies, their anthers alight like the fallen suns of her dream. Their heads are turned, not to the sun, but to her. White lilies. The only flowers in her dream that did not affirm life and which came to be known as funeral flowers. She turns from the window. She runs to find the gardener.

  “Remove those lilies!” she orders. He follows her trembling finger as she points to the pool. But the lilies and the terracotta pot quickly fade; drawn into the clear blue day. The sun bounces brightly off the white tiles where they had stood. Gabrielle bends, the whiteness reminiscent of the snow through which she walked. She peers closely at the tiles. Only a sickly hint of recent death remains.

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  The orchid. Exotic, uncanny, once believed to promise potency. Grown as a temperamental rarity. Pampered and displayed with pride.

  The seeds of these bizarrely beautiful flowers might have been dropped from another planet where plants have closer links with insects and man. For often they resemble both. They are unlike any other species and their sex life is spectacular.

  Many grow wild in Crete and respond well to being cultivated, although such is their skill in self sufficient seduction, one suspects they softly mock those daring to direct their existence.

  In Greece orchids lack the flamboyance of their tropical counterparts. But they are still evolving. Those the Minoans found may be radically different from the plants of today. In Greece species range from orchis italica, representing a pink-spotted satyr to orchis scolopax which might be an insect with wary eyes and black markings settled permanently on pink petals.

  World-wide there are around 30,000 species, from flowers of a few millimetres to the Far Eastern grammatophyllum speciosum with stems measuring up to three metres and numerous blooms.

  They are erratic individualists. Some die after flowering, others only bloom in special conditions. There are even albinos.

  Writer Lawrence Durrell records making “bulb tea” in Corfu from the tubers of orchis laxiflora. The French, Spaniards and Greeks all use the Arabian word “salep” for orchids - the pulp from the tubers grown for food.

  And orchids have long been considered an aphrodisiac with their pairs of rounded tubers suggesting testicles. The larger tuber, eaten by men, was thought to produce boys, the smaller tuber munched by women, daughters.

  The orchis italica was no doubt dedicated to the lusty figments of men’s minds as they followed the dark frolics of Dionysos. As any tree nymph would confirm, sileni and satyrs roamed the woods.

  This orchid flowers on the edge of fields in April and May and may symbolise Priapos, the fertility god who protected nymphs, vineyards and gardens.

  Orchis tridentate might be a company of squat Oriental women, passing the time of day in pink-spotted, wide-sleeved gowns, while orchis provincalis presents ear-like petals and a disproportionately long petal protruding like a blood-flecked tongue. Serapias cordigera has a generous red flower that hangs like an elegant eastern slipper.

  The rare comperia comperiana proves that not all orchids are showmen - drooping with spidery curved flowers evoking dismay rather than flashy self confidence.

  The pink Pyramidal Orchid, (anacamptis pyramidal) and barta robertiana - a giant with spiky packs of flowers, also grow in Crete.

  Pollinators are usually insects and many orchids look uncannily like insects themselves, fooling those on the wing. Much of the seduction comes from their sophisticated scents. What is more, this may change during the day according to the insects the flower hopes to attract.

  Some orchids, aiming to attract flies, are reminiscent of rotting meat. The flies slither down the lip onto the sexual organs. Nectar is their reward. The lips of orchids may move to pitch their pollinators inside. The Australian Flying Duck orchid even imprisons them for a time after forcing them down.

  There are numerous ingenious devices, from slippery slides down which the pollinators shoot, to structures that prevent insects getting out the way they came in. Luckily an alternative route is provided.

  The Bucket Orchid from Central America has honed the capturing device to a fine art. Its lip is often many centimetres wide and is shaped like a bucket with a canny collection of rods and glands to complete the trap.

  A bee is a clumsy pollinator, so this and other orchids have refined their seduction technique. The bee is drawn to the fragrant flowers. It discovers an edible tissue with a tasty fluid on which it gets rapidly drunk and happily drops into the bucket. The only way out is up an uncomfortable spout and in the process the bee collects pollen or leaves some previously collected, on the stigma.

  Insects are attracted too by colour and design, from petals drooping many metres along the ground to brittle packages of fragrant flowers.

  If you grow orchids, split the dry bulbs and repot them, so every six months you have new growth and flowers. If planted in a bowl they should be left only half covered with soil. They will need feeding, ideally with a special orchid mix. And will need humidity, warmth and patience.

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  Extend your collection with other strangely compelling flowers. Sunflowers (helianthus annuus) are freakish but likeable. They are an annual that is greedy yet easy to grow.

  Some gardeners grow giant sunflowers for competition. But there is no need to be fanatical. Blooms of any size turn their heads instinctively to the sun and seem a symbol of Helius himself. They were known to have been grown in 3,000 BC in New Mexico and Arizona and were probably brought to Europe by Spanish explorers in the 16th century.

  Sow seeds in spring or early summer. I put three under a jam jar, for only one may survive and the cover encourages humidity. Choose a fairly flat low lying area with rich moist soil and plant near a wall with deeper soil if the flower is really large, so it can be safely secured.

  Start feeding when the flower appears. A high potash mix is a good idea. Water well. When seeds form in the centre, the head bows down like an umbrella to keep off the rain.

  To harvest the seeds, take a saw and cut the stem, leaving about 20 centimetres attached to the flower. Take out the seeds and spread them to dry. Large seeds are often roasted like peanuts, some are used in confectionary and small seeds are fed to pet birds and animals. The oil, of course, is a healthy alternative to heavier
fat in cooking.

  The Sea Holly is beautiful on the Cretan beaches. And there is a variety you can cultivate; eryngium alpinum, the perennial Alpine Sea Holly. This has an extraordinary appearance; like blue cobwebs with hard centres. A native of southern Europe, it loves full sun and a dry, stony site or calcareous soil with a little humus. Even when dry, the flowers are appealing and last a long time. You can propagate in spring by sowing in small pots or directly in the garden.

  In Greece eryngium creticum can be so prolific it turns whole fields blue. The roots are sometimes used for snake bites and the over wintering rosettes are eaten as vegetables by the Arabs. The flowering stems become light, break off and are blown away by the wind.

  The evergreen Bottle Brush shrub (callistemon speciosus), comes from Australia and attracts wasps, but has an offbeat individuality. Its flowers do indeed resemble a bottle brush.

  It likes to face south in a well aerated soil - acid or calcareous but not too rich. You can grow one in a pot with heath mould mixed with shredded bark or litter from the woods. Feed and water well but be prepared for the plant to die, because it does not always absorb nutrients evenly. If it survives, propagate by sowing in spring in pans or by semi-hardwood cuttings planted in sand.

  The Bird of Paradise flower (sterilities reginae), an evergreen perennial, is another oddity; flamboyant and uncannily bird-like with stiff orange head feathers. There are several near my home, catching the eye among more mundane blooms in village gardens. Hailing from South Africa, this plant likes a fairly sunny spot with a deep, fertile soil and plenty of water. Propagate by dividing basal shoots in the spring.

  The shrub Parrot’s Beak (clianthus puniceus) is also reminiscent of a bird. This has a weird and extrovert inflorescence (the grouping of flowers on the same axis) while its foliage is delicate. A native of New Zealand, it likes sunshine and a rich, lime-free loam enhanced with fertiliser when planting. Water regularly. It may be sown in pots in the spring and by long heel cuttings of lateral shoots in spring or summer.

  The Passion flowers (passiflora coerulea and passiflora quadrangularis) are perennial evergreens that might have been created by some meticulous brain with a love of outlandish symmetry. The former, coming from Peru, Argentina and Brazil, is a climbing evergreen perennial with flowers ranging from purplish blue to white. Its singularity lies in slender rays spreading within petals around a star-shaped centre whose appearance of odd devices logically combined, might have been designed by a mechanic.

  It loves full sun and an ordinary soil without too much nutrient or it will produce too many leaves in relation to the flowers.

  Passiflora quadrangularis is more showy with deep pink petals and a frayed brown and white circular element like Red Indian feathers. In the centre lies a pale flower that might belong to another plant. Its fruit has a thick skin with many seeds in an edible pulp.

  This plant likes sun or partial shade with rich soil and plenty of water in summer. You can take cuttings in spring, summer or autumn.

  For the sheer spectacle of inflorescence, grow the Glory Bower (clerodendron bungei) - a bushy shrub with a dense round head in carmine pink. Watch for strong suckers thickening the plant. A strange characteristic is the unpleasant smell of the leaves when touched.

  This plant likes full sun or partial shade in a well aerated moist, sandy soil and rich feed. Water well. Propagate by seed or division, detaching root suckers. Or you can take cuttings of half ripened wood in the spring.

  I remember being fascinated by Chinese lanterns (physalis alkekengi) in the garden as a child. The shrub Abutilon (abutilon megapotamicum) goes one better. Under the shape of lanterns hang delicate yellow petals and under those, protruding black-brown anthers. This plant is short lived but worth growing for its complex combination of shapes.

  It is sun-loving, likes a rich topsoil and ample water. Propagate by seed or softwood or semi-hardwood cuttings in the spring or summer.

  If you want a flower that opens like a butterfly, grow the Monkey flower (mimulus luteus), a bushy perennial that is brilliantly yellow with red spots. Originating in Chile, it likes brightness with a little shade. And it loves damp ground, even growing in a little water rich in decomposed organic material. If it stands in dry ground give it plenty of water.

  You can sow it in the spring, divide the clumps or take cuttings from the tops of the branches which will root in pans with mixed sand and peat.

  I saw a wonderful Cockscomb (celosia argentea) in the village of Afrata on the Rodhopou Peninsular in western Crete near my home. This annual is an incorrigible showman; a blazing affirmation of the here and now. Its inflorescence is created by numerous tiny red flowers clustering in a plume-like spike that spreads into a fan shape.

  No one is sure where it comes from but a guess would be the tropics. Give it full sun or light shade, any kind of soil, well fed and moist. It likes a little liquid feed while growing and regular watering.

  To propagate you may prick off seedlings and grow in a moderate temperature or sow directly in the garden.

  Any of these unusual plants will look striking in a space of their own among less eccentric flowers and most are easy to grow. And you will no doubt become addicted to their quirkiness that cannot be categorised.

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  CURIOSITIES TO CULTIVATE

  There are many extraordinary species that have evolved unique qualities in the wild or through cultivation and most are easy to grow. So have a go!

  SUCCULENTS

  The cactus-tracker was after the drunk who shot so many holes in a giant saguaro it fell over and killed him. Reporter Kate Adie recalls her meeting in Arizona with Richard Countryman, the tracker, in her autobiography The Kindness of Strangers.

  Countryman was also hot on the heels of thieves who were carrying off the huge saguaros in pick-up trucks at night, to plant in suburban gardens. So giant cacti are not invulnerable, although they are the essence of the desert, distinguishing the Western; lonely, waterless bastions of the wilderness.

  When unmolested cacti are among the most curious and resourceful of plants. Often grotesque and hostile, they are an awesome paradox; perhaps bursting overnight into beautiful bloom which fades as fast as it appeared.

  There is one in Gerani, where I live in western Crete, growing wild in an orange grove. Its popular name is Queen of the Night. Limply it straggles the branches, then one morning each June puts forth enormous white flowers. An artist who was staying with me picked one to paint and found it oozing with a substance like honey.

  The cactus was vital to the Incas in Peru and Aztecs in ancient Mexico. The intoxicating drink “pulque” was made from the Agave and even had its own goddess: Mayahuel. Some cacti have hallucinogenic alkaloids, used in religious ceremonies to speed communication with the gods.

  These plants can tolerate the toughest conditions and have evolved extraordinary shapes and defences to deal with them. They soar like ribbed monuments, spread like green stars veined with white, squat like spiny aliens or expand into rosettes with perfect symmetry; a ruse allowing maximum photosynthesis (chlorophyll absorbing sunlight and using the energy to combine water and carbon dioxide to make sugar). They often close in very dry weather to conserve moisture. Succulents developed spines when stems and leaves died because of dryness.

  Why grow a plant so hostile to handle and which flowers so briefly? For a start cacti can live without water, although it is a myth that they do not like a drink. They do, provided they are dry enough. But if they do not have one, they do not die, merely lie dormant.

  There is sometimes confusion between cacti and succulents. I know I prefer growing those succulents without spines, but cacti belong to the succulent family. Thickened stems, leaves and roots enable them to store water. Many absorb carbon dioxide by night instead of during the day. And they like extremes of temperature.

  There is a wonderful Barbary Fig or Prickly Pear (opuntia ficus-indica) near my home; in November its huge
prickly pads bear red fruit that might be performing a precarious balancing act.

  This plant can grow to up to five metres tall. Christopher Columbus introduced it to Europe and the Venetians probably brought it to Crete. The fruit can be eaten but there is a peeling technique worth learning.

  If you grow succulents at home you should do so before your dotage because you may have to wait some years before seeing a single flower. You will probably decide against nurturing a species such as the agave americana, the enormous plant seen on Mediterranean shores, but this is a prime example of how succulents take their time; this one needing between ten to 40 years to flower. It is known as the Century Plant, although unlikely to take as long as100 years to burst into bloom. Other species, more suitable for the home grower, flower comparatively soon. Faucaria tuberculosa with pert packs of leaves, produces yellow flowers like daisies after only two years.

  In full sun you can grow such astonishing species as mammillaria hahniana - round heads with crowns of small pink flowers and wispy white growth like wedding veils. There are around 300 species coming mostly from Mexico and America, while others originate in South America and the West Indies.

  Sempervivum “Bellot’s Pourpre” is one of those satisfyingly symmetrical varieties, opening like a rich rosette. Echinopsis chamaecereus twists; suggesting a contortionist unable to disentangle itself, while ferocactus herrerae is the epitome of brittleness with spines like a thread left by Theseus running round the Labyrinth.

  Lithops (aizoaceae) are known as “living stones” and are among the most intriguing succulents, coming from South African regions which are very dry and the light intense. They each have a pair of fat leaves which store water. They like loam based compost with sand or grit and must be well drained. The flowers that burst from the apparent stones this species resembles, are delightfully incongruous.

  They need potting on every three or four years and live without feed.