RANDOM REMINDER

Press, Volume CXIV, Issue 33452, 6 February 1974, Page 15

RANDOM REMINDER

In this modern age there are many clubs and societies catering for the diverse recreational interests of hard-working housewifes. As off-shoots of these organisations, there are Circles where the clatter of tea-cups is sometimes prone to drown the conversation. There are sewing circles, knitting circles, bridge circles, pottery circles, trade union circles and perhaps the most popular of all, gardening circles, where the novitiate quickly learns to differentiate between the growth habits of marigolds, mignotette, michaelmass daisies and madonna lilies and also absorbs, very quickly, the beauty and pleasure of floral art. At a recent meeting of a North Island garden circle, there was A, one woman attending who was custodian of a secret which her better instincts prevented her promulgating, and B, another who had deviated from the paths of propriety — and ethics — who must sure-

ly have been somewhat conscience stricken. Or was she? On the morning of the gathering A happened to be awake early and before dressing, glanced through a slit in her Venetian blinds to observe B — a casual acquaintance — busily leaning over her low front fence and helping herself to choice blooms from the tulip bed. It was A’s intention to enter a vase of tulips that afternoon for judging, and she was hopeful that she would be awarded a maximum number of points. It was evidently a sentiment shared by B. To cut the tale of the tulips short A was eventually awarded three points and B five, a pure injustice which took the bloom off things properly. It is customary for close friends in gardening circles to occasionally exchange a clump of calendulas for some carnation cuttings, or perhaps hyacinths for hydrangeas. Mesdame A was visiting a mutual friend earl-

ier in the year where she admired the ornamental peppers growing in colourful profusion in a bed bordering one side of the house. She told her hostess that she would simply love to try to cultivate a bush for herself. Could she have a seedling, she asked? Certainly, came the response. A specimen was quickly potted, wrapped in paper of roseate hue, borne in triumph homewards and carefully nurtured. And it flourished. But all in all it has not been the best of seasons. To her consternation she discovered one morning that the plant she had been cultivating with loving care bore the botanical name of a species generally not highly regarded by horticulturists — solatium nigrum. More commonly known as deadly nightshade. But she bore no malice at all to her lifelong friend and, in return delivered to her a grafted peace rose cutting. Together with a posy of forget-me-nots.