Wild Orchids - Chapter Seven
Have you read the previous chapter yet?
Archie suddenly jumped to his feet, the spoon in his hand fell to the ground. George looked up from his breakfast, a startled look puckered his face.
‘What the hell, he muttered as he watched Archie scurry to the entrance of their camp deep in the shadows under the Bridge. The early morning sun’s rays could not breach the shadow line, but lit a corner of the stone wall. Archie reached the sunlit spot and dropped to his knees with a cry of delight.
‘George, come see. You won’t believe what’s here.’
‘What! I can’t see anything except a lot of grass,’ George exclaimed crossly as he peered at what he thought was just a patch of weeds.
‘Here, here,’ Archie said, his gnarled hands carefully spread the yellowing weedy stems to reveal a bare branch covered with red buds. ‘It’s a flowering Quince, or Winter Cheer, as we used to call it,’ he exclaimed with a broad smile.
‘So, what’s so special about that? You’ve got me away from my breakfast to look at that? You’re batty that’s what,’ George said impatiently. He was about to turn on his heel, when he saw the look on Archie’s deeply lined face. It was if Archie was looking at some long-lost treasure.
‘You know George,’ he whispered, ‘I haven’t been able to shake off the lingering passion that once flared, taking me outdoors with nature, landscaping, tending to other people’s gardens, as well as my own. The heady smell of gardenias, jasmine, roses, the intense pleasure I felt from being at one with the natural world has not left me. This discovery has inspired me to look after this struggling bush; see it grow and give me the pleasure I long for. Ahh!!! I have an idea for my next move and do something to ease my mind.’
‘What idea is that, Archie?’
‘Not sure how it will work out. You’ll see when I get back later,’ Archie said, his eyes shining in anticipation, something that had been missing in the long dark winter days.
After clearing the area, they stacked their belongings in the big trolley and hid it under the tarp and dead tree branches in the space behind the stone wall. With backward glances for a last-minute check, they climbed the bank to the road above and as usual cheerily wished each other a good day.
Towing his shopper and feet comfortable in the new Ugg Boots, Archie walked away with a spring in his step. He was on a mission; an idea had planted itself in his mind.
When he arrived at the bus stop, he joined the other three people also waiting.
‘Excuse me, does this bus stop near the nursery?’ he asked the small, well-dressed elderly lady standing next to him. The man from the newsagency, told me about a nursery, a few kilometres away, reached by the local bus.
‘Yes, this is the right one,’ she replied with a smile. ‘The nursery is only four stops away.’
‘Thank you, much appreciated.’ Archie tipped his battered cloth cap courteously’ With a loud squeaking of breaks, the bus ground to a halt, he waited until others had boarded before he pulled his shopper up the steps. He noticed a vacant seat next to the lady with a lovely smile and sat down. They nodded a friendly nod to each other and she said,
‘As you’re asking for a nursery, I guess, you must be new here? Are you living in Fingal Sound?
‘Yes, I’m new here,’ he said avoiding the second question. ‘I would like to find a special rose; it’s called Our Rose.’
‘The nursery has a good selection to choose from. I grow roses and often visit the nursery for an obscure old fashion rose; one I don’t have. I’m not aware of the one you call Our Rose. I would love to see it.’
Archie described the rose and hinted how special it was to him. ‘It reminds me of a girl I once knew,’ he added softly.
‘I understand,’ she smiled and added, ‘Flowers are like that for me too; they often have meanings and remembrances.’
‘I’ve had so much pleasure and satisfaction from gardening. I even talked to the plants as they grew. Do you remember the gardener on the TV who recommended talking to your plants?’ Archie said with a chuckle.
‘Oh, yes, I remember him. I do talk to my plants. But shhhh! Don’t tell anyone,’ she confessed with and giggled. ‘By the way my name is Esther and it’s nice to meet you.’
‘Mine is Archie. Esther it’s nice to be chatting with a fellow gardener.’ They continued chatting easily as the bus trundled along until it pulled up with a sudden jolt and a squeal of brakes.
‘This is your stop Archie,’ Esther said laughing as they untangled the wheels of their shoppers. The bus driver patiently waited, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
Archie seized the moment, drew in a deep breath and said, ‘Esther, if you have the time, would you like, to come with me and help find Our Rose?’
Esther hesitated and with encouragement from the kindly bus driver to move on, she replied, ‘Yes, I have time, a lot of time to myself these days. I would love to come with you.’
Archie helped her down the steps and with his hand politely at her elbow they crossed the street, looking every bit an unlikely couple. He, slightly stooped, cap low and firm over his brow and his long greatcoat sweeping the tops of his sheepskin boots, she, in a smart blue gabardine raincoat with matching blue beret set at a jaunty angle.
They wandered along the stands of plants, expressing their delight in the winter displays of daphne, fuchsia, clivia, violets and boronia.
‘Do you have Our Rose?’ Archie asked a young woman attendant.
‘Don’t know that one,’ she said, ‘but if you can wait, I’ll look through the range in our catalogue.’
‘Archie, while we wait, what about a cuppa? Esther said pointing to a café.’
Relieved, he quickly agreed knowing he had money in his pocket. ‘Sure, I could do with one. Lead the way.’
While they sipped on their tea they continued to chat about plants, gardens and the joy of growing things. The attendant came to their table with the rose catalogue.
‘This is the closest we have to the rose you’re looking for. I suggest you have propagated it yourself?’
‘Yes, I did, from a cutting, and named it after a special child in my life,’ Archie confessed. ‘But I would still like to buy the closest you have to Our Rose.
With the potted rose under his arm and with Esther beside him they walked to the bus stop. Esther turned to Archie.
‘I can see you have a deep love of flowers and are so knowledgeable. I have so enjoyed this time with you even if we couldn’t find the rose you were looking for.’
‘Me too Esther. I hope we might see each other again one day, perhaps on bus 75?’
They waved as Archie’s bus pulled away. His mind went to the quotes he would read to George that night. Luke 12:27, Consider how the wildflowers grow, and Song of Songs 2.1-2. I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valley. He was the happiest he had felt in a very long time. He wanted to sing out loud and couldn’t explain why.
Wild orchids will return on Saturday 13 June. Stay tuned!
