Bunches of freshly imported colourful hothouse flowers
are arranged and rearranged by some of the graves on a weekly basis. Traditional holly wreathes are lain every
Christmas and every November brings a flush of remembrance poppies. Each family
has their own way of remembering. Me? Rather than bring cut flowers to a
memorial, I prefer to connect memories with the flowers where they're growing.
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| Bluebells carpet a woodland floor |
A bluebell wood, no matter where it is, brings
memories of Nanny Brown flooding
back. As a small (ish) child we would walk across
the fields and through the woods to Goose Green where the bluebells carpeted
the woodland floor every spring. Nanny
Brown would bring a picnic and we'd enjoy our sandwiches and iced gems before
traipsing home with handfuls of sticky stemmed blooms to cram into jam-jars on
the kitchen windowsill.
Sweet Williams remind me of Granddad Brown and I always
grow them in my own garden as a reminder of the times we spent together in his
garden. Tying wigwams for runner beans
and grubbing around in the dirt harvesting new potatoes with my cousins.
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| Granddad Brown with his first Great Grandson way back in 1988 |
This spring I have sown a patch of heartsease, the
wild pansy, in honour of an amazing gentleman.
We'll call him DW. DW passed away in October aged 93. A good age, no one
can say he was taken before his time, and his was a life well lived.
DW, just like Granddad Brown was of a different
generation and represented a better time.
A time when young men were taught respect, honour, tolerance and
loyalty. They fought for their country, they worked hard to support their families,
never even considering any reliance upon the welfare state. They were always
well turned out. I never saw DW without his tie fastened just so and his boots
polished.
I met DW when I was 30 and he was 70. He was a true
countryman. He understood why bees are important and knew where to look for
pheasants eggs. The weather held no mysteries for him, neither did the ways of
man. We worked together for 6 winters
before ill health kept me at home. I had the healthiest respect for him, and
for his "mucker" Percy.
Somehow, heartsease, the Victorian's flower for
remembrence seems a more fitting tribute to DW than gaudy chrysanthemums or
sellophane wrapped carnations.
Percy was of a similar age to DW. they had both fought
in the Second World War, although not together.
I never heard DW ( or Granddad Brown) mention their wartime experiences
but Percy did once, and only once, confide that he had been captured by the
Japanese as spent time as a prisoner of war. He considered himself lucky
because unlike many of his comrades, Percy had 2 pairs of socks. One pair protected his feet while they walked
and walked and walked. The other pair
saved his life ....... He ate them.
Poppies are for Percy.
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| Poppies remind me of an old friend who survived a spell as a POW |
The Victorians invented their own language using
flowers instead of words. I guess I have
done the same....in my own little way.
Plants are one of my favourite ways to remember people, occasions and special places. Sometimes their scent will bring back a memory (new mown grass takes me back to Bayford Primary School when in summer time the grass beside our classroom window was cut by a tractor and gang mowers), sometimes the colour or the setting will remind me of something (or someone) or other.
I wonder - do plants and flowers help Alzheimer’s patients in the same way?
Meadowmat for Remembrance
If you are thinking of planting some wild flowers in memory of someone or something special, Meadowmat's Passchendaele Poppy Mix is well worth a look. Not only is it stunningly beautiful and easy to grow, each sale will raise money for the Royal British Legion to help support people like Granddad Brown, DW and Percy.
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