peacocks and flowers

The peacock at work has been displaying his tail.  It is extraordinarily exotic.  Behind the big ornamental Arts Nouveau style feathers he has a shorter fan of stiff feathers, which he rattles.  The hen appears totally unmoved, and goes on eating grass, and I am reminded of the Punch cartoon of a small peahen standing in front of a male with an absolutely huge fan tail, and the caption 'What do you mean, no?'.  The young peacock that hatched last year has been raising his little tail as well, though he doesn't have anything like the full array yet.

The fancy chicken with the ultra large comb, that flops over one eye (I should have thought it would drive her mad) keeps coming into the back of the shop, now that it's getting warmer and we leave the doors open.  Fortunately most of the customers seem to think that this is quaint and charming.  The doors are automatic, but the sensor inside the shop is getting a bit weak, and sometimes it doesn't detect that you are approaching and you have to do a few steps like a square dance to trigger the doors, so leaving them open is easier in some ways.  The sensor outside the shop broke ages ago, and it was quite handy being able to stop customers from wandering in by the back door.  Those in the know are aware that to get in you have to turn a key in the door frame.

We do our own version of the peacock's tail, with arrangements of those plants that are looking especially floriferous or desirable on tables around the plant centre.  They help make the place look nice, and they are shamelessly intended to induce people to spend money on impulse purchases.  Sorry, that's what shops do.  I got to re-do some of the display tables today, which I always enjoy as it gives me a chance to play with all the prettiest plants, and makes a change from picking dead leaves off the Leycesteria.  I try to use things that could be grown together in the garden, partly to give customers some genuinely helpful ideas, and partly because I find the alternative looks so jarringly odd.  The design principles of unity and repetition help, so not too many different varieties on one table, and I aim to find things that look well together in terms of habit, and leaf size and texture, as well as colour.  Today I paired up a variegated Photinia with peachy brown and red young leaves with a Heuchera in just the same shade of russet.  I didn't actually like either plant particularly, but it was a good colour match.  Somebody will buy them.

I got home to find the chickens ranging freely.  Their chaperone, swaddled in layers of fleece and a hat, announced that they were starting to flock together much better.  Then the rooster fell in the pond.  In fairness to him, maybe he didn't know he couldn't walk on the duckweed, but he does now.  He breast-stroked across the width of the pond, shrieking horribly, and I plucked him out, but I think he is traumatised.