Summary

The web content is a personal narrative detailing the author's experience with his tropical garden, contrasting it with the grim setting of the novel "How Green Was My Valley."

Abstract

The author, Ronald C. Flores-Gunkle, shares a reflective essay on the vibrant and diverse flora in his tropical garden, drawing a parallel with the stark, industrial landscape of the novel "How Green Was My Valley." His garden, a far cry from the bleakness of the novel, is a lush oasis filled with a variety of plants such as spiny palms, staghorn ferns, bromelias, and sunflowers. Each plant is described with its unique characteristics and the role it plays in the garden's ecosystem. The author's lifelong passion for both dark stories and bright places is evident as he recounts the growth and stories of the garden's inhabitants, highlighting the stark contrast between his own life experiences and the grim narrative of the novel. The essay also touches on the ease of growth for certain plants in the tropical climate, the presence of wildlife in the garden, and the joy derived from gardening. The author concludes by expressing his wish to visit the now-green valleys of Wales post-Covid and provides a link to more of his photo/essays.

Opinions

The author finds a connection between his garden and the novel "How Green Was My Valley," suggesting that literature can influence how one perceives their surroundings.
He expresses a preference for dark, tragic stories, as evidenced by his early reading of the novel and his appreciation for the contrast it provides to his own life.
The author takes pride in the proliferation of plants in his garden, noting the rapid growth and ease of cultivation in the tropical environment.
He values the presence of wildlife in his garden, particularly the tiny frogs that live in the bromelias.
The author seems to enjoy the process of gardening and the dynamic nature of his garden, despite the occasional need for intervention to manage its growth.
He appreciates the beauty of spontaneous growth, as seen with the wild curcuma that appeared beside his garden house.
The author has a sense of humor about his garden, referring to the Dieffenbachia plant by its local name "rábano" (radish) and remarking on its enthusiastic growth.
He acknowledges the serendipitous nature of gardening, with some plants arriving by chance and others through deliberate cultivation.
The author holds a deep reverence for nature, considering it a wonder, and he is knowledgeable about the scientific classification of his garden's plants.

Acrocomia (Spiny Palm) • photo by R.C. Flores Gunkle

How Green is My Garden

It is nothing like Wales

Forgive me for the obscure literary allusion in the headline, but the prickly palm tree in my photo — for some strange reason — brought to mind the novel How Green Was My Valley. It was one of the first I ever read, probably in the early 1950s, and it may have influenced my lifelong passion for dark stories and bright places.

There is nothing green in the novel (it is grimly grey, pockmarked by coal mine fires, accidents, explosions, illicit sex, and grisly death — perfect fodder for a prepubescent kid’s nascent tragic view of life. I read it because at first I was deceived by the wonderful title, then intrigued by the relentless misfortunes of a Welsh boy’s life.

My own life — fortunately — has differed: my novel could be called, How Green Is My Mountain. I have lived most of my life on a tropical island with all the perks of year-round summer, peppered by an occasional hurricane or drought, but mostly by beautiful balmy weather and an endless, aggressive growing season. There are a few spiny trees, of course, but they are as scarce as a weedless garden bed.

Platycerium (Staghorn Fern) • Phymatosorus scolopendria (Monarch Fern) • photo by R.C. Flores Gunkle

This is a place you can almost watch garden plants (and weeds) grow! This huge staghorn fern started as a calf and quickly spread its broad span of antlers along an Indian Laurel Tree. The monarch fern on the right began as a single plant and soon filled a large bed under a Flamboyán tree, then spilled over a bank and down a hillside. I have to keep it from invading the lawn with my power mower! The cacti descended from plants found on hikes or from cuttings from friends. They all seem to live happily crowded together.

***Neoregelia*** • photo by R.C. Flores Gunkle

The equally prolific bromelias keep their own water supply cuddled in their core. They can grow on trees, on rough ground — just about anywhere there is some shade. Tiny frogs often treat them as their bed and breakfasts, feeding on mosquito larvae and bathing in their pools. In total shade they are green; in partial sunlight they turn red. In total sunlight they turn brown…and may die. As you can see, the weeds in the bed are overdue for human intervention.

***l. Dieffenbachia • r. Codiaeum variegatum*** (**fire croton)** • photo by R.C. Flores Gunkle

Both of these plants and their relatives are often grown indoors in pots in cooler climates. Indeed I had a potted croton on my kitchen table in the very first apartment I rented more than half a century ago in Pennsylvania. Both are really easy to grow here —I just cut off a piece and stick it in the ground! The Dieffenbachia is called rábano (radish!) in Puerto Rico. I have thinned it with a machete, tossed the cuttings down the mountain, and found it there later sprouted and growing enthusiastically. Radish, indeed!

Canna (Maraca) • Curcuma (wild ginger) • photo by R.C. Flores Gunkle

Every plant in the garden is another character with its own story. The little red canna, a wild variety native to Puerto Rico, provides the seeds for the maraca, the ubiquitous Latin percussion instrument. The wild curcuma — with its gorgeous blossoms, is a close cousin of culinary ginger and turmeric. It appeared spontaneously next to my garden house a few years ago, probably brought by birds. It disappears for a time, then emerges from the ground in an ever widening circle — and in a burst of glory. Right now it is truly glorious!

Helianthus, Sunflower (girasol enana) • photo by R.C. Flores Gunkle

Not everything is serendipity, of course. This small sunflower arrived by jet in a seed packet! Unlike some varieties of young Helianthus, it deigns to follow the sun and it actually turns its back on it!

***Beaucarnea recurvata***, the **elephant’s foot** or **ponytail palm** • photo by R.C. Flores Gunkle

There are many more shades of green in my garden, but I will close with a shot of our cat Gamby at her favorite scratching post. The bottom of the ponytail palm also serves as a water reservoir for this tropical desert tree. In spite of its common names (especially the graphic ‘elephant’s foot palm’ moniker) it is not a true palm, but a member of the Asparagaceae family that includes edible asparagus. What a wonder nature is!

Author’s note: How Green Was My Valley was published in 1939 and the Wales it describes — if it ever existed — is long gone, replaced by truly green valleys and spectacular landscapes. It is on my bucket list if I live to see safe travel in a post-Covid world.

More of my photo/essays, can be accessed HERE.