Zantedeschia aethiopica

Every Friday afternoon I would slip into my blue gumboots after school and walk bucket in hand to the wetlands a few hundred metres from our home. Here was my first source of income, my first vessel to choice – Arum Lilies. At one stage I had a standing order from a the local flower shop in town which payed handsomely at R1 per Arum Lily.

A few other entrepreneurial ventures later, and I was headed to town to purchase my first road bike at a cost of R1200. I’d been in to see this Bridgestone many times, to lift it, to spin its wheels. It wasnt new, third hand in fact, but still made a fine object of determination for the lilies.

My father had insisted trying triathlon and cycling for a while before he’d support my new found enthusiasm. But being 11, I couldn’t sit and pedal his old racer. It made for a few 10km trips to town all out the saddle – but my father still didn’t seem convinced. That Friday afternoon though, when going to the bike shop in Church Street, he took the bill. It meant I’d have some spare change after a luminous pair of shoes and a green (to match the bike) Gary Fisher helmet.

Its a straight flat ride out to the farm from town. I recall thinking that afternoon from cloud nine that this bike felt like a dream. The shifters on the downtube were smooth through all seven gears with the old 105 deraileur. I had it made I though… I still have the bike in the loft, and will try recall (most unlikely) to take a photo.

(But it was very similar to this one)

I haven’t thought back to my picking days for ages, and unsure why the nostalgic notion has crept up on me tonight. There were many lessons out between the mud and thorn trees, but the greatest was the lesson of timing. Seeing a flower that’s near perfect today, but that would be perfect the following week, and having the maturity to let it be, and keep searching to fill my quota of 50. A patience that has left me – as I struggle to spend a few days cruising.

As an aside, the Arum Lilly (Wikipedia) did become my favourite flower. So delicate and perfectly poised yet so fragile to swaying branches, to friction and to harsh sunlight. A perfect arum was rare. At close inspection, few of us are.