© 2009 Lynsey

119 – My affair with Agapanthus

I have a really torrid relationship with Agapanthus. At times it feels very personal and twisted. I love the flower buds, and the young flowers, but the love affair fades rapidly as the flowers age and fade themselves. I hate the spike-y corpses of the flowers, and as for the seed heads, and the profusion of seeds within – loathing would be a fair description. And as for dealing with the soil grabbing roots – urgh! Oh but wait, when the sun dawns on last night’s rain drops on the leaves, and the light shines through – how can you not just love them?

A torrid relationship…

The summer after my Dad died Mum decided that we needed to paint the house. She’d had quite enough of the weedy green colour Dad had liked, and it was time for a new colour scheme. We gathered up a team of brushologists and got on with it. Snowy white walls, grey footings, and agapanthus blue facings along the bottom of the windows. The flowers are not just one flat colour – if you look closely the colour is darker in the centre and lighter out towards the edges. To get the right blue colour I’d grabbed an agapanthus flower growing on the way to the paint shop and after some comparisons got the right blue-y mauve colour we wanted. We painted the concrete deck and steps in terracotta – the brick colour set off the whole very nicely.

As a finishing touch I planted agapanthus clumps along the road frontage. I’d carefully divided an agapanthus clump I’d found growing in the back yard. I figured people walking past would be able to enjoy the beautiful blue flowers against the white walls of the house. The flower stems rose up, and after what seemed like forever, opened. White. The flowers were white. How is it possible that the one clump I divided up would be a white agapanthus?

Torrid. Personal and twisted.

14. Every day the ordinary can be the extraordinary.
28. Every day you will be tested.
32. Every day have a laugh.

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