Nesting and Nutmeg Geraniums

They settle in the tiny worker`s cottage nestled in the lean shadows of the of the housing commission tower blocks. It is their first home together and they begin, in ways emblematic of this stage in their relationship, to nest. He starts making furniture for the small rooms of their home, and for her. She begins to cultivate a garden in the handkerchief sized gravel bed that is their back yard. Northwest facing and unshaded, it is an an unforgiving space. Her research tells her that Mediterranean plants may have the best hope of surviving in this plot, geraniums and herbs perhaps.

desiccated withered stems when the conditions become more favourable is a small miracle.

Her garden became the focus of her homemaking and they enjoyed new recipes which benefited from experimental seasoning. She became interested in herbal remedies and scoured the libraries for books which would enlighten her on the historic uses of these aromatic plants. She made up mixtures familiar to the Victorians, scenting and insect proofing her linens and clothes. And she made Tussie Mussies, small bunches of aromatic herbs, given in Victorian times by lovers as sentimental statements. She still has these old fashioned habits.

Her father visited them and stayed a few days, meeting her one day for lunch in the city . She took him to the Geranium Society flower show which was being held in a very old but deceptively cavernous building hidden down a city lane way. It was her first foray into the world of geranium aficionados and she was glad her father was with her. She was the youngest in the room which was peopled with grey haired men and women, spare with the hands of gardeners. Around the walls in neat categorised tiers were pots of geraniums and she and her father moved around reading the labels, taking in the enormous variation of leaf shapes and flowers. She remembers them enjoying the experience of being there together, both interested. She became aware of small bundles of leaves laying beneath certain plants which had signs saying "smell me "and as she did, the utility that geraniums had represented for her until now, was transformed into a passion.

Her favourite variation still, is the peppermint with its soft velvety leaves and unmissable fragrance. It colonised the expanse of clay hill left after earthworks in one garden she built, falling like a curtain of dark plush to hide the damaged soil. It is a plant that cups raindrops and dew.

There are lemon, apple and rose variants, all of which she has sought for the gardens she has made subsequent to her first. There is also a nutmeg form and she bought this, her first plant, at the flower show after discussing the merits of several other forms with her father. He liked the small neat leaves and the general tidiness of the plant as well as its piquant scent, released by rubbing the leaves. It is a delicate little plant, the unique shade of Australian eucalypts, a sun washed slightly faded green.

It is almost forty years since that first cottage garden, and twenty since her father died. She has built many gardens since then and in each one, there has been a nutmeg geranium, grown from the specimen she and her father bought that day at the society. In her current plot there are several pots where it persists, lanky with neglect, but still holding its neat form in which there are echos of its Geranium Society origins. She loves its tenacity. It is an impeccable, indomitable small plant .