FLOWERS FOR MOTHERS

BY DOROTHY HENDERSON, WESTERN AUSTRALIA-BASED MEDIA STRINGER

There is often truth in the adage “…every cloud has a silver lining…”, even though at times the cloud may obscure the silver lining from view. For Australian flower farmers, it is possible that the Covid 19 pandemic may be the cloud that brings with it a silver lining in the form of increased support for the producers of blooms in this country.

The romance of flowers, embodied in their form, colour and fragrance, can be enough to distract us from recognising that the people who grow them are farmers.

These people are subjected to the same vagaries of weather as other primary producers, and to the market fluctuations caused by economic factors often beyond their own control. As it has been with Covid 19.

Flower producers in some areas of Australia were already suffering from the impact of the 2019-2020 fires, with some in places like Phillip Island reporting that their floral bounties were diminished due to the smoke haze and lower than normal light levels, right at a time when their blooms needed to see the sun to thrive.

Then the pandemic hit, and people simply stopped buying. At one point early during Australia’s initial response to the viral invasion, flower producers were throwing away blooms that no one wanted. Then as the pandemic settled in and we lived our restricted lives…flower producers in Australia experienced a reversal of fortunes, with blossoms being used by people who wanted to show others that, though they were restricted from visiting them in person, they still cared about them. Flowers speak a universal language and can bring a smile to those in grief, in respite or alone.

And while the restrictions on travel limited the ability of flowers to be imported into Australia from producers in far away international places, growers within our borders found themselves almost overwhelmed by the demand. Some even feel that the pandemic prompted an appreciation of the home-grown product, forced by the plague to do so, people have supported flower farmers closer to their own homes. Maybe that is as it should be.

As Mothers’ Day approached, we were among those separated from the matriarch of our family. Not so unusual for us to be apart in May; it seems that we are often kept apart at that time of the year as that is when the cows we care for dictate our movements as they calve---and ewes have lambs. This year was different though as there was a border between us that meant that even if we wanted to visit her at her home in Albany, just four hours drive away, we could not. Police manned barricades and commonsense dictated that caution really was best. But we could send flowers, and as we prepared to order them online, through the florist that delivered floral joy to her in the past, I had some reservations about what I was doing.

The hesitation was prompted by several columns I read in the week before Mothers’ Day. For different reasons, they suggested we ditch the “hot-house” flowers for other, more meaningful ways of showing our mothers how much we care for them; like donating to a worthwhile cause, climate change action or social justice campaigns. Various articles suggested that flower deliveries posed a risk during the Covid 19 times…and well they might have, especially in the US.

But as my fingers hovered over the online order form, and I seriously considered opening up a charity page and donating in my mother’s name, I remembered how much she enjoyed receiving flowers…how much joy they had transferred to her in the past: I saw the sunlight shining through the translucent orange poppies I took home to our farm when her father, my grandfather, died and remembered how they made us feel happy when we were sad. I remembered how the flowers she sent me on the anniversary of the death of our daughter, her grand-daughter, had made me feel and I realised that the flowers were more than a token. They were not, as one of the columnist’s described “a knee-jerk reaction” to the day for mothers. They were a genuine expression of love and connection…bringing joy to someone who didn’t want another possession, a transient flash of colour and splendour that would fade and wither after a period of sunshine, leaving a soft afterglow like a spectacular sunset. By their very nature, the gift of flowers is a reminder that life is full of bright things.

As the Australian flower collective Consortium Botanicus states on their website “…flowers reduce stress and improve mood. Flowers connect people to a time, a place, a person, a season, an event. They become part of your story. Healthy, truly local florals make you feel even better.  They are a feast for your eyes and food for your soul.”

I went ahead and ordered the pink tulips that I knew would brighten our Mothers’ Sunday. They were delivered on the day, and when she called to thank me, she reminded me that when she was only five, and her own mother asked her what she would like for birthday, she thought long and hard and replied “six yellow tulips”. She received six yellow tulips for her birthday. It is highly likely those tulips made the journey from Holland to her home: after all, the channel was all that separated the flower growing capital of the world from the United Kingdom, where my child mother lived.

Not so long after my Mothers’ Day musing about flowers, I made a trip to Bunnings to get supplies for the farm. There, waiting for their new home, were six yellow flowering tulips. I bought them, and they will be ready for next year’s Mothers’ Day. Six yellow tulips, a timeless gift despite their non-permanent nature.