Lessons from Nana

My Nana grew a huge hydrangea bush by the front gate. The flowers were deep burgundy, and although it's been years since I stood there cutting bunches with her secateurs, I can still see it. I can see the dark green leaves against the brick garden wall, right next to the letterbox and the low wooden gate. 

Nana taught me the trick of cutting hydrangeas so they dry beautifully, rather than wilt in the vase. It's all about timing. You must wait until autumn. Then you must wait some more. Wait. Wait patiently. 

Run your hand over the hydrangea head. Only when it sounds papery is it ready to pick. The plant has now cut its water supply to the bloom. The flower has begun to dry by itself. If you cut it now, you have caught it in time. The flower itself is caught in time. 

Bring the hydrangea head inside. Place it in a vase. No water. It doesn't need it. Water will rot it. The moisture in the bloom is trying to evaporate out. 

It is on its way out. But you have caught it in time. You have caught it, like a photograph, snapped at just the right moment. You have captured something. Like a hydrangea bush against a red brick wall, next to a letterbox and a low wooden gate.