There was a guy out watering his hanging baskets as The Dog and I walked past the other day. We stopped for a chat about the global issues surrounding the need for a more water retaining compost mix, to help hanging baskets to maintain an even internal moisture content, so he didn’t need to water them so often. I mentioned vermiculite, with some conviction. After some discussion we came to the conclusion that it was called something else these days. He favoured coconut fibre, himself.
At this point in the conversation, it became necessary for us both to lean against something, so we took advantage of a convenient wall. “You see those trees?” he said pointing to a few youngish trees fighting their way through the hedge surrounding the field across the road. “I planted those. They flowered for the first time this year.”
As we were both now comfortably supported by the wall, there followed a fair amount of hand waving and discussion until the trees in question were identified amongst the Hawthorn, Elder and Wild Cherry that occupied the corner of the field just over the road from us. “Yes,” he said “My wife’s sister went on a pilgrimage to Walsingham. When she came back she brought me a bag of Horse Chestnuts. So I planted them.
“Those are Holy trees, those are.”