Saturday, 19 July 2014

The not so humble banana.

The banana.
Not only the most popular fruit in the world but chock full of healing qualities.
And a reviver of dead roses.

Having neglected an elderly miniature rose bush for more than fifteen years it finally gave up the ghost last month, with sweet pink roses replaced by rather dead looking shoots.
Potbound for all this time, with ever encroaching moss and weedy garlands, it had somehow managed to produce the sweetest roses, year after year.
Consumed with guilt and nostalgia for a plant that has acted as sentry by my door since my son was four foot tall with muddy knees I turned to banana skins - and a very large pot.
For three weeks I fed it discarded banana skins, draped elegantly over the compost, and now, a month later, I have fresh green shoots and a much healthier looking plant.

And a new found respect for bananas.

Having spent nearly a year on a kibbutz specialising in bananas in the dim and distant 1980s, I have always had a soft spot for bananas.  However, when it came to picking them I lasted just three days in the banana plantations of Ginosar, being particularly useless in all things agricultural and much more at home in the children's houses.
Perhaps it was the 4am tractor roll call, perhaps it was the ribbons and lace that were a permanent fixture in my hair, but me and bananas - we just didn't click.
But my friends did, and friendships were cemented over bananas.

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