There are plenty of roses – rose bushes, that is – available with monikers suitable for St Valentine's Day such as 'Thinking of You' and 'Marry Me,' writes JANE POWERS
SOMETIME WHEN it’s not St Valentine’s Day, and when a significant percent of the population is not under flower-giving duress, we’ll talk about the cut flower industry. Prepare yourself for air miles, pesticides, fungicides, dire workers’ conditions and environmental destruction. But not today. That would be unfair. The day is pressured enough for those who must substantiate their love with flowers.
Nonetheless, I will say this: if you’ve left it to the last minute, there are options other than importuning the harassed florist. Your local garden centre will be more than happy to see you (it’s been a quiet season so far this year), and will be able to provide an alternative Valentine love token.
Roses are the most extensively given flower of love. If you go to a florist, a dozen, decent, long-stemmed roses will set you back at least €75. They will almost definitely have no scent, and will last about a week. On the other hand (and I’m sure you can guess where this is leading) a rose bush costs between €9 and €25 at your local garden centre. It will live for decades, produce hundreds of dozens of flowers, and will most likely be scented. I’m not suggesting, of course, that a person’s affections should be calibrated in hard cash, but nonetheless, if necessity dictates love-on-a-budget, then the rose bush is your only man. It’s true, the bald sticks of the dormant plant are less captivating than the velvety sumptuousness of an unseasonal red rose grown in Kenya or Colombia, but they are gravid with the promise of good things to come. And if the rose bush is carefully planted at the time of giving, then each future bloom will be embued with the recollection of the loved one’s prowess with the spade. Now, isn’t that romantic?
Rose givers can further express their feelings by choosing cultivars with names such as ‘Thinking of You’, a red hybrid tea with elegant spiralling buds; ‘Romance’, a floribunda with rich, pink blooms; and ‘Sweet Dream’, a patio rose with salmon flowers. The ultimate thrill for the receiver could be taking delivery of ‘Marry Me’, a pink-bloomed patio rose, bred by Northern Irish breeders Dickson Nurseries, of Newtownards in Co Down. There are plenty of other roses with monikers suitable for the day: plant breeders are acutely aware of the marketing prospects of a well-named cultivar. (Brief pause here to reflect sadly that the liver-spotted, lime-green hellebore known as ‘Old Ugly’ seems to be available no longer. Surely it would have made the perfect Valentine’s gift for a special somebody somewhere?)
Next to the rose, the lily is about as romantic a flower as you can get. At present, garden centres are full of their bulbs, which, if planted in containers now, will bloom in summer. Remember that some, such as the pink-backed, white regal lily (L. regale) and the pure, gleaming Madonna lily (Lilium candidum) can grow very tall (two and 1.5 metres, respectively), and will need large pots so that they don’t topple in the breeze. They may also be planted straight into the ground, but not if the garden is very snaily or sluggy – unless you want to grow expensive mollusc food.
Lilies were much employed in the Victorian language of flowers, and depending on their colour could mean entirely different things. White lilies signified purity, beauty and virginity, while yellow ones were more problematic, and could mean gaiety, gratitude or falsehood. Orange lilies, on the other hand, sent an unambiguous message of hatred or dislike – unless, of course, they were tiger lilies, in which case they could mean wealth or pride. Life was vexatious for the Victorians.
There are many plants whose common names reflect love, lust and longing. The pretty blue annual, Nigella, is known as love-in-a-mist, the blue daisy-like Catananche caerulea is cupid’s dart, and the American Trillium erectum is called true love. The ox-eye daisy (Leucanthemum vulgare) is both love-me and love-me-not, while the little wild pansy (Viola tricolor) is awash with alter aliases, including jack-jump-up-and-kiss-me, love-in-idleness and lady’s delight. These plants aren’t all available at the garden centre, but knowing their alternative names might prove useful intelligence in the future. And this column is big on usefulness. Speaking of which, a friend of mine once received a bag of pig manure on her first date. She was delighted – as it was just what her plants needed. She married her suitor not long after, and he still brings her exactly what she wants.
jpowers@irish-times.ie