Carpobrotus glaucescens and don't say Pigface, OK?

Often the most beautiful of Nature can be found right upon our doorstep. Or in my case, back doorstep and a hop, step with an itsy-bitsy jump away from the clothesline.

But such serendipity was not obvious at first, as today I was in the drudges, hanging out the washing. Especially that much worn jungle-green Jacket nearing 30 years of age that I have patched, sown, stitched and threaded dozens of times. That Jacket which has been worn to each hemisphere and a few continents. It has even been to Sydney - and survived. That Jacket that has been dunked in a fast moving river as I hung on for dear life tumbling over rocks in turgid sprays. That Jacket, which has survived freezing temperatures atop Mount Kosciuszko (mainland Australia's highest mountain at 2,228 metres/7,310 feet) and kept a belting Sun off my face as I plodded along a lonely windswept beach near Apollo Bay on the southwest coast of Victoria. This same Jacket that been abused by the blood of imposed violence and sliced by a thief's knife. The same Jacket which kept a lover warm on a chill autumn night as we watched, awestruck, the array of the Milky Way as it showed us its secrets. This Jacket, which hitchhiked with me the length and breadth of the North & South Islands of New Zealand and kept me smug as I fell in love with a country and its people. And, it is this Jacket that brought comfort to an old man dying as he sat for the final time feeling the embrace of the kindly Sun. It is a Jacket I wear and wear and wear because it came from a special person, and I will never stop wearing it, because of her memory.

But this gift from Nature, has nothing to do with my Jacket, much as the Jacket is prized.

Hanging up the Jacket, I glanced across to a garden bed. It is just an ordinary clump of dissolute soil and sand that has grown all sorts of small treasures across the years. At present it is seemingly bereft, failing to winter's annihilating brief. However, there was a flower, in fact three flowers, atop a mish-mash of crumpled emerald foliage. Though two of the three seemed distressed and uncertain as to what extent to bloom. But one flower, one magnificent flower, is in a riot of defiance, open to catch the weak July sun. Brilliant with colour, its shape intricate and alluring as if to mock the grey. I forgot about the washing and the chores of Friday. Kneeling down I drew closer, my eyes drawn as if a magnet into colour. Here was rapture, of wonder and exhilaration in spite of the cold logic of the season. Something odd, certainly, spring in the midst of the strangulation of winter, perhaps? It was puzzling but not for too long once the analysis drifted away.

Where had it come from? No human hands planted its seed and as far as I can tell God is busying herself in the Australian forest for the outbreaks of wattle blooms come August. It can't have been the next door neighbour on the sunnyside up, for them a flower is preposterous! To me, I cared nothing of origin only its beauty.

Commonly known as Pigface or Angular Pigface - certainly a compliment toward Pigs. Known, in the Latin that floral nurturers utter, 'Carpobrotus glaucescens' and then look at you for their amusement, grappling with incomprehension. I gather 'Carpobrotus' is derived from the Greek, 'karpos' meaning fruit and 'brota' meaning edible fruit. Whilst 'glaucescens' means blue green bloom that lightly covers the leaves. Makes you wonder, perhaps the Latin boffins who thought of the name were colour blind. Looked pink to me, the bloom, but what would I know?

This plant is a member of the 'Family Aizoaceae' (which does sound much more impressive than the 'Family Plod'). Apparently, there are 25 species in the genus, mostly native to South Africa (though I wonder should that be genius for surely here is genius). Four species are native to Australia and can be mostly found in coastal areas. Cg (I hope you will forgive the truncation of the longer Latin because you try typing in the long version after having a glass or two of Bourbon at 2:00 am - it is a tad difficult with my two finger typing ability and close up vision that a 'mole' would be proud of at the best of times), has long trailing stems to 2 metres long (though this one must a child in that extent). These take root at nodules. From the nodules come upright leafy branches which have thick smooth and small fleshy leaves. Normally, this Pigface (sorry, I gather this plant is aggrieved at the name and has threatened me with a visit from some Triffids) will grow as extended ground cover over a large area. I presume this one is just starting out on that journey as its cover is not much. Normally, in southern hemisphere climes, this Cg (see I learn, albeit slowly - I mean what if the Nasturtiums rose in revolt at being named after a porker's face) flowers from October to January. It is not uncommon to sporadically flower at all times of the year, as if disputing the usual order of flowery things. It is salt tolerate and dry tolerate. You will normally see this plant growing in coastal margins, dunes or in sandy type soils as a pioneering plant preceding more exotic species in the colonisation stakes. It is now known to reside in Plod places too, which I am sure will impress the Flower-people as mostly bird-seed only grows here. Apparently, early European Explorers used the plant as an anti-scorbutic to treat the effects of scurvy and the after effects of reading too much Coleridge. Though why they did not use Dr. Morse's Indian Root Pills baffles me. Scurvy and certainly the excruciating stanzas of Coleridge is one of many ailments the Root Pills subscribed.

Imagine my delight at seeing this unexpected visitor, now made very welcome. I am looking forward to its spring spurt and more flowers across the warm/hot months. Hopefully, it will adopt a permanent possie in my backyard right next to the Garden Gnomes (GGs) whom I have appointed 'official Cg Custodians'. In SMS parlance, for the younger readers especially, this would read, 'GGs InC Cgs'.