The Flower Question
"Look, Auntie Gertie," shouted Freddie, as he
walked past the hall table; those flowers have
their heads bowed. Are they praying? Or have
they died?"
Freddie and his family were just returning home
from a four-day trip to the Lake District. His
mother, his father, and his sister, Alice, were still
getting their luggage out of the car. The
chrysanthemums on the hall table had caught
Freddie's attention as soon as he got through the
front door. Instead of showing him their bright,
yellow faced, as they had when he left, the
flowers were indeed all bent over.
"Not to worry," said Aunt Gertie cheerfully; "they
got very thirsty while we were gone. But a drink
of cool water is all they need."
Aunt Gertie, who was the flower expert in the
Davidson family, dropped her suitcase and walked
straight into the kitchen. There she filled a small,
red watering can and returned to give the
chrysants a drink.
Freddie looked on thoughtfully. "I didn't know
flowers get thirsty," he said.
`"Just like you," Aunt Gertie reassured him; "but
they take a long, long drink. It will be tomorrow
before their thirst is quenched and they're happy
again."
The door burst open, revealing Alice, loaded down
with blankets and stuffed toys, followed by Father
and Mother. "It's certainly good to be home,"
sighed Father, "even if it is prettier in the Lake
District and . . ."-he caught sight of the bowed
chrysanthemums - "even if Gertie's flowers have
dried up in our absence."
"They haven't dried up," explained Freddie;
"they're just thirsty. Auntie Gertie is going to give
them a long drink." "Flowers can't be thirsty,"
muttered Alice; "they haven't got tongues or
throats." Luckily, no one heard her. Soon she and
Freddie were safely tucked in bed and the grown-
ups were relaxing over a cup of tea.
* * *
The next morning Freddie was wakened by the
bark of a dog outside. For a moment he didn't
know where he was; then he realized he was at
home and it was his dog, Pepper, who was
barking to be let in. The nextdoor neighbors, the
Stewarts, had looked after Pepper while the
Davidsons were away.
Sleepily Freddie stretched, got up, dressed and
went downstairs for breakfast. At the foot of the
stairs Freddie caught sight of the
Chrysanthemums. Auntie Gertie was right. They
had gone cheerful, just as she said they would.
Their heads were no longer bowed. Their bright,
yellow faces smiled at anybody who stopped to
look at them.
"Morning, Mummy," said Freddie to his mother,
who was putting an egg into boiling water over
the stove. He gave her a hug as Pepper came
yapping up excitedly. He patted and then hugged
Pepper affectionately.
"Auntie Gertie's flowers are happy again," Freddie
reported.
"Flowers can't be happy," scowled Alice, who was
hunched over a bowl of cornflakes in the corner;
"Auntie Gertie likes to talk about flowers as if they
were people. But really they don't have any
feelings. They can't be thirsty, or sad, or happy."
"Is that right, Mom?" asked Freddie in some
disappointment.
"You'd better talk to your Aunt Gertie," said
Mother; "she knows much more about flowers
than any of the rest of us."
Freddie sat down and ate his breakfast - a boiled
egg, orange juice, toast and marmalade. Alice
finished her cornflakes and left without saying
anything more.
After Freddie had finished his breakfast, he got up
from the table and took his dishes to the sink.
"I think I'll go next door, Mummy," he said, "and
see if Angus is up."
"He should be up by now, Freddie," said his
mother; "you and Alice slept late this morning.
It's already nine o'clock. You must have been
tired after your trip to the Lake District."
* * *
In fact Angus was up, and had already had
breakfast. He was in his room building a model
airplane. It was going to have a little engine in it
that would run on petrol.
Angus and Freddie greeted each other and Angus
told Freddie about his model airplane. Freddie was
impressed. Then Freddie told Angus about his
family's visit to the Lake District. Finally, Freddie
mentioned the chrysanthemums. He couldn't get
them out of his mind. He kept thinking of the way
they looked last night - all drooped over and very
sad looking - and then how they looked this
morning - bright, yellow faces smiling at anyone
who stopped to see them.
"Angus, do you think flowers can be happy?"
asked Freddie.
Angus thought. "Well," he said slowly, "they
haven't got a mind, have they?"
It was Freddie's turn to think. "How could we tell
whether they have a mind?" he asked, puzzled.
"Well," said Angus, ":if they could talk, then
they'd have a mind . . . No, wait! Some dolls can
talk . . . you know, talking dolls, like the one my
sister has, and they don't have minds."
"Yeah, they're called 'talking dolls', agreed
Freddie, "but do they really talk? Or did some real
person talk and they made a recording that gets
played when you pull the ring?"
"I guess they don't really talk," sighed Angus;
"but if plants could really talk, we would know
they have a mind. And if they have a mind, they
can be happy. Anything with a mind can be happy
or sad."
"Hey, I know," said Freddie; "they might be able
to talk by radio waves, or something, . . . or by
dust that goes from one plant to another."
"Yeah, Maybe," said Angus, "but we don't know.
We don't even know whether Pepper can talk."
"He can," said Freddie, confidently; "when he
wants to be let in he barks outside the door.
When he wants to be let out he goes to the door
and paws at it and barks. That's talking."
"Well, okay," said Angus; "but we still don't know
about flowers."
Just then Angus's older sister, Fiona, stuck her
head into Angus's room.
"Hello, Freddie," she said cheerfully; "how was the
Lake District?"
"Good," said Freddie; "but, say, Fiona, what do
you think? Can flowers be happy?"
Fiona though a moment. "Sure," she said
confidently, "but why do you ask?"
"Auntie Gertie says they can be," he explained;
"but my sister, Alice - she's such a drip - she says
they don't have any feelings."
Fiona paused. "Well," she said, "I don't think they
say to themselves, 'I'm happy', or 'I'm sad'. But
they can show they're happy by blooming. And
they must have some kind of feelings because
they're so sensitive."
She paused again. "You know there's something
called a 'sensitive plant'. It curls up when you
touch it. It's like a butterfly. When you touch it
ever so slightly, it curls up."
"Oh," said Angus, "that could be a reflex . . . you
know, something like a spring. If you touch a
spring, it may curl up, too."
"It's got to be sensitive anyway," Fiona insisted,
"if it can have reflexes. If it can curl up, it's got to
be sensitive. I've got to go. See you guys later."
Freddie and Angus returned to the model
airplane. They forgot for a while about plants and
whether they can be happy.
* * *
Freddie stayed at Angus's house all day, helping
with the model airplane. His mother called him
home to have his tea with Alice and Aunt Gertie.
Mother and Father were going out for dinner. As
the three of them sat at the kitchen table, Freddie
decided to confront Aunt Gertie with the flower
question: "Auntie Gertie, how do we know that
Chrysants are happy?' "Didn't you seem them
today?" Aunt Gertie asked; their faces are all
turned up and smiling at us." "Oh, you just want
to pretend they're like people," said Alice, sourly.
"You know they don't really have any feelings at
all. The can't feel happy."
"Aunt Gertie straightened up in her chair. "Do you
think happiness is a feeling, Alice?" she asked;
"maybe a warm, gently tickling feeling that
spreads over your body?"
"I don't know about that," said Alice, cautiously.
"If you think happiness is like the feeling of hot
chocolate going down your throat on a cold day,
then maybe flowers aren't happy," Aunt Gertie
conceded; "so far as we know, they don't have
that kind of sensation. But some of your happiest
times are when you're doing something you like
doing - singing in a big chorus, or playing a game
well. You don't have time to stop and get warm
feelings. Your happiness is just doing something
you are good at doing with all you've got in you.
Flowers can hold their heads high and how off
their blossoms with all they have in them. When
they are healthy and well watered they tend to do
that. And that's happiness for a flower."
Freddie thought about what Aunt Gertie said. One
of his happiest moments, he thought, came when
he got to sing "O Come All Ye Faithful" in a
children's choir on Christmas Eve. He didn't know
why he liked that carol so much, but he did.
Maybe he had some warm feelings then, but
happiness wasn't those warm feelings, or you
could be happy by just going over to the gas fire.
Maybe happiness for any living things is just doing
something very well, with all you've got in you, as
Auntie Gertie said. For a flower, that would be
blooming.
Bragt her på siden med tilladelse af Gareth Matthews,
professor i Filosofi for børn i Massachusetts.
Gareth Matthews udarbejder tekster som denne
i
fællesskab med børn.
The Flower Question
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