I love cabbage trees. There’s something about their ridiculous Dr Seuss shape, and their swamp resilience, that appeals to the absurd side.
I am pleased that the cabbage tree in our front yard has survived another tough winter and is in fact thriving, as shown by its prolific blooming.
Unfortunately that is producing a near-death hay fever experience for me. My sneezes are so seismic as to be setting off tsunami alerts in California. They leave me reeling for the next half hour as I try to recover my brain cells from around the house. I am waking in the morning feeling as though the elves have spent the night stuffing cotton wool in my nasal passages and lungs.
Such is the price of botanical affection. I bear my burden with quiet stoicism. (Apart from the sneezes.) (And of course I don’t: I complain like billy-o, but nobody listens.)
But here’s the thing: MrsDavy has planted five more cabbage trees.
What can this possibly mean?