This type of palmistry has nothing to do with reading the lines on my hand, or anybody else’s for that matter. Our quest for a garden with a tropical flavour led us to a Palm Sale last Saturday. The rain had cleared, I had visited the ATM for my budgetted $200, and off we went.
I had noticed these Palm Sales in different suburbs in previous years, not really paying much attention to them until now. This time it has been situated in Vermont South, a ten minutes’ drive from Croydon.
Jotted down on a piece of paper clutched in my hand was advice on different palms that I had learnt from the internet. My husband accompanied me to choose our purchases. The man who runs the establishment poo-hooed some of the information regarding what would grow where, and suggested varieties to suit our needs. It made sense, if he had them for sale they should suit our climate.
For our $200, I think we did really well, with ten plants in all.
They have been sitting in the back yard now for almost a week, as I read that it’s good for the plants to be familiar with their environment to minimise the stress that might occur when planting them in the ground. With so much else to get done before Christmas, I think they can wait another week for their new, permanent homes. Merry Christmas, garden.