..even the word is fitting. Tender, with a little ‘trill’ on the end – perfect.
The ability of plants to climb / twine / cling/ twist and grasp their way up in the world is astonishing.
Even the thinnest of stems hangs on with a fearsome grip, once it has attached itself.
I have been ‘helping’ the long, soft twiners on my cucumber plants.
Many are waving around aimlessly, looking for a home – but if you ‘show’ them where a string or cane can be found – lo and behold, the next time you look they are wrapped around it! I am sure that they have some sort of sensory memory.
The little springs are particularly beautiful, and a very efficient design of nature – enabling them, of course, to move in the breeze without getting overstretched or breaking. Very clever.
The Akebia frantically twines around itself, in convoluted knots.
The Vine is elegantly lovely, but seems to hang on the most tightly of all.
Last years (now brown and dry) tendrils are rock solid, and if you try and pull a vine stem from a tree, more often than not it is the tree branch which breaks, rarely the vine!
I have this beautiful ‘dish’ woven from old vine stems which I admire – the skill used to weave it and the intricacy involved. I wonder if it was made while the stems were still green and then left to dry?
This weekend I had the joy of a visit from my young grandchildren. My sweet pea of a granddaughter headed off down the garden path in her delightful and determined way. Briefly, she was distracted enough to curl her warm, soft baby fingers around mine, as we pottered along. Bliss.
I was fondly reminded of this poem by Adrian Mitchell;
At the top of the stairs
I ask for her hand. O.k.
She gives it to me
How her fist fits in my palm.
A bunch of consolation.
We take our time
Down the steep carpetway
As I wish silently
That the stairs were endless.
Ah. As with the vine…
It is the letting go which is so very hard to do….