We were a group of strangers walking silently through the Banksia garden at the Canberra Botanical Gardens. Tasked with following our hearts to the plants that drew us in, we spent half an hour exploring the area. We took photographs and made notes which would later lead into a nature journaling and painting session.
Our instructions were to be curious, examine our plant in detail and make notes about our observations. We were to include the date, time and weather information as well as any other data we could gather. While I loved the idea, my brain took a different turn and I began to think in metaphors and ponder the questions that came to mind.
The plant that chose to reveal itself to me was a Banksia robur. This plant can tolerate a wide range of growing conditions, including swamps and sandy environments. I was drawn to the rhubarb coloured leaves at the bottom of the plant as well as the bright flowers at the top. As the flowers fade, the inflorescence, or cluster of hundreds of individual small flowers, turns grey before becoming the woody seed pods that we associate with banksias. It struck me that every stage of the flowering was not only beautiful in its own right but also contained within it the lifecycle of the plant.
What drew me in was the greying flower at the bottom of the plant with the brighter flowers above it. It reminded me of an upside down family tree. I identified strongly with this greying flower, nurturing the youthful generations above it. I called the flower Grandmother Banksia, in recognition of my recent transition to this stage of life. This greying flower exuded a beauty of its own; no longer radiant in its vivid colouring, yet soft and solid. There at the base of the shrub, it would eventually transform into a pod that held within it the possibility of rebirth after a future fire event released the seeds to germinate.
Looking at Grandmother Banksia, I felt at peace with the process of ageing. There is so much that I can still offer to the generations that come after me, as well as to my own generation. I may no longer attract bees with my sweet honey, but there is a strength and solidity that only age can reliably offer. This is my gift.
From Quill to Quote 