Wisteria
Some things move you. Other things leave you cold. Meadows move me, real ones, not synthetic jump on the bandwagon ones. Trees move me, big trees, native trees, the trees on our boundary: oak and ash and hawthorn and holly. Bedding plants don't. Lavender hedges move me. Roses grown on swags of rope don't. Bluebells and sea pinks move me. Begonias don't. I don't know why. I could have a go at trying to explain but it is not all rational. Wisteria moves me. It always has. It is ludicrous in some ways. It is a plant which is so over the top it could be a climbing, rampaging begonia, and yet somehow its lushness and its falls of flower stay just this side of kitsch. It remains subtle, even whilst taking your breath away. The delicacy of the leaf pattern reminds me of rowan and ash trees, both of which I love. The flowers are like coming upon a waterfall. A few years ago my parents l...