Scotland: National Rural Network
Connecting Rural Scotland - Promoting Rural Growth

By Patrick Vickery

On occasion we sell plants at Dornoch Market, you know, and may expand this enterprise further in the future. Indeed, we had a stall at Tain Vintage Car Rally last month (cracking event, good weather and well organised as always by that "man in a kilt" and friends) where a good blether was had by all.

I had sight that day of a one hundred pound note wafted casually across the Lupins and Marigolds by a local Joiner of excellent repute wishing to purchase a couple of plants. It was a big note indeed, both in value and size, the like of which I've not seen in a long time. (He was dispatched by his wife, by the way, to acquire smaller denominations before the transaction could be completed).

Anyway, there's nothing like buying a plant to put you in the mood for a spot of gardening, is there, and I'm particularly fond of those plant stalls you find at markets and car boot sales because you never know what you might come across and the plants are usually quite cheap.

In the past I've sold plants at car boot sales myself, forty or fifty plants - maybe more - neatly labelled in smart pots, a flask of coffee and a tasty sandwich, then ‘Bob's your Uncle', simply watch the cash roll in, or that's the theory anyway, though in reality it doesn't always work out like that, not if there's inclement weather to keep the plant buying public at bay or an alternative attraction elsewhere. If so, you might be lucky to cover your costs, and that's before you've even bought a cake from the cake shop to boost your energy levels.

I find it's best to treat these things as a social event myself, an opportunity for a good blether - blether, blether, blether - and a chance to catch up on the local gossip. However, if you do intend to sell plants on a regular basis there are some pitfalls to be aware of.

"You sold me a Geum last time," one man bellowed at me across the table, "only it was an Oriental Poppy!"

Easy mistake to make, best apologise when this happens and offer a replacement, chat pleasantly about the weather and go for the ‘distraction' approach, non-confrontational.

"And what about the Lupin that should have been red only it was multi-coloured?"

"Well obviously a mutation, very rare indeed."

And then of course there was the woman from North Kessock who wanted worms.

"Do you sell worms?" she enquired, "worms for the garden?"

Do people in North Kessock really buy worms? Was she mad?

"No, don't do worms, sorry about that."

I enjoy a good browse around the plant stalls myself, of course, always on the look out for plants with potential. I remember an occasion in Fortrose well. I was studying the horticultural display on the table and paying particular attention to some sort of brown vegetation cascading down the side of a pot in a limp and dead sort of way when the stallholder caught my eye.

"Good plant, that," he said, "looks half-dead now, you know, half-dead, but you should have seen it yesterday, looked fully dead then, fully dead, dug it up myself, fine specimen, fifty pence to you, sir."

Now what's the world coming to, I ask myself, when somebody wants fifty pence for a dead plant? And worse still, I paid fifty pence for it too! He was very persuasive, you see, great selling technique, and I didn't like to say no. Of course he could have been right, couldn't he? Maybe it wasn't dead at all, or even half dead for that matter but simply in need of some tender loving care.

So I took it home, administered tender loving care and then awaited signs of revival. Over the next few days, however, my initial suspicions were confirmed. I'd bought a dead plant and paid good money for it too. Now what can you say to that? ‘Good Heavens' about sums it up, doesn't it?

Check out the Rural Ramblings archive to read more of Patrick's articles.

Copyright Patrick Vickery 2009