A late cheer for the geranium
18.5.2018
Translation: machine translated
The epitome of "Bünzlitum", the embodiment of Swiss tradition and the flower of the grandmother: the geranium. So bad its reputation, so good its sales figures. It took me a while to appreciate the plant.
It is Switzerland's favourite ornamental and balcony plant. It has a long historical tradition, and not just in this country. Originally from South Africa, it was brought to Europe around 1600. Today, the genus has around 280 species and actually has a different name. Because what we call geranium is scientifically called Pelargonium. The actual geranium is also known as cranesbill and comes from the same family as pelargonium, but belongs to a different genus.
Nice facts. But nice is the little sister of shit. What am I to make of a plant whose most exciting detail is a confusion of names? The geranium is as rebellious as Znacht at 6 pm and meticulously bundled waste paper.
Symbol of conservatism
That's what I thought in my youth, which was characterised by geraniums. They adorned the façade of every tidy farmhouse or chalet. Not just on postcards and posed tourist photos, but in real life. It seemed as if the flower was saying to me: "Everything is still in order here." I was sure that a mother, father, two children and perhaps a well-behaved pet lived here. The father went to work, of course, while the mother prepared a delicious meal. Everyone did what they could. The flower symbolised a world view from the 1950s and patriarchy. It epitomised cowbell Switzerland. So steeped in tradition that there was no room for progress. No, I didn't want to subject myself to such values.
Well, I was a teenager. Many adolescents have a certain tendency to exaggerate. A felled tree becomes a dying forest. A broken heart leads to weeks of crying fits, only drowned out by the latest cuddly rock CD. But there were also practical reasons for my aversion to geraniums. For years, the neighbours above us lived out their love of the plant in flower boxes. In theory, that's their problem. Theoretically. Every year there were tonnes of flowers on our balcony that had to be swept away. As soon as the flagstone floor was free of the predominantly red flowers, the whole thing started all over again. Sisyphus must have felt the same way.
Change of perspective
All my preconceptions about geraniums persisted. For years, colourful small-town balconies were a thorn in my side. But I got older. I went away. One year in the USA and I suddenly saw the traditional side of Switzerland with different eyes. Suddenly I thought it was great that the Swiss decorate their house fronts with geraniums. It's actually quite nice to look at. And how selfless of the residents to decorate their balconies especially to the delight of passers-by. It's only when you're far away that you realise how beautiful home is.
Now I live in my first flat of my own and have a small balcony that needs to be planted. My perspective has changed. Negative associations had to give way in favour of practical advantages. The geranium comes in all sorts of colours and shapes. It has a long-lasting and rich flowering splendour. And above all, it is extremely easy to care for. If you forget to water it once, it won't immediately drop its head.
Am I slowly becoming a spiker?
But I also think that I've simply changed in the few years since puberty. I can still hear my father saying on those unloved hikes: "Once you work and are inside all day, you'll learn to appreciate such outings." For me, these were empty slogans with the sole purpose of calming my mind. Today I have to admit, "Dad, you were right!" Times and priorities are changing. Maybe I'm slowly becoming a spitfire myself, maybe it's part of today's society or maybe it's just normal personal development, but I now like things that I used to find boring and stupid. Even geraniums on old farmhouses.
So that passers-by also get wet eyes in front of your house.
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