WHEN the vicar asked if any children wanted to come down to the altar to collect a bunch of flowers for mum on Mother's Day, there was an almighty (but polite) stampede.

Five minutes later the happy little herd came skipping back down the aisle, gapped grins stretched over their faces, waving dainty bouquets under the tearstained cheeks of their mothers and grandmothers. As soon as they had despatched their gift it was a quick turn of heel and out into the sunshine to swap the latest mobile phone ring-tones.

Little did they realise the discussion that they had started amongst the women left chatting in the church. I watched as they all bent heads to examine and inspect the carefully prepared bundles that had been thrust into their hands.

Deep inhalations were followed by unified sighs of "oooh" and "ahh", but these were accompanied by frowns. Not frowns of disgust or anger, but ones of confusion.

The heated debate that followed concerned the identity of the flowers in the posies. Half the congregation swore they were freesias. The others thought they must be a variant of daffodil.

The latter were correct. I didn't put them straight though. I left the service with an inner smile. It was good to see such a discussion taking place. To the children they were just flowers to be enjoyed in all their simple glory, but the adults had to have them identified and slotted into a pigeon-hole.

Naming can become quite a complicated issue in the plant world, and it is this that sometimes puts people off from going into horticulture in more depth. I have always believed that the only way to learn plants, their common and their Latin names, is with hands-on experience. Once you have potted up 200 pansies, or pulled out three fields worth of creeping buttercup, you soon get to know their identities.

It is very similar to learning a new language. I am quite proud to be completely fluent in French, and passed my O level a year early at school, but the following year I flunked my German O level. The reason I was better at French was that as a child I was thrown into a French speaking school and had no option but to learn it, and quickly.

For the gardener, naming begins with its genus, which is the equivalent of a surname. This is usually a group of plants that are physically similar or closely related through natural evolution or breeding.

The genus is followed by the species. This distinguishes the individual plant from its family, rather like a Christian name.

Then the plant will more than likely have a common name, or nick-name. The common name is easier to remember, as it often makes some reference to the appearance, habit or use of the plant. However, in certain parts of the country these names can alter.

This is why there is a universal Latin name for every plant. It also makes identification possible in any language.

Occasionally, just to confuse us, botanists will, in the light of more recent research, change the name of a species, or put it in a different genus. Such happened with Crocosmia, which was called 'montbretia'. Overall though, the International Code of Botanical Nomenclature (as it is known) creates a stable, universal and cross cultural process of identifying plants.

JOBS THIS WEEK

PLANT gladioli corms in the borders over a period of two weeks.

Set them eight inches apart and three inches deep. This should provide a long-lasting display from July through to September.

CUT back ivy that is outgrowing its space or invading the gutters and eaves on houses. This helps to prevent the accumulation of dead leaves and debris, and if done now, will not disturb the nesting birds and other wildlife too much.

ON a dry day, set the blades to a high setting and run the mower over the lawn. Regular tipping out of the grass will encourage the lawn to grow thicker, preventing the invasion of weeds and moss.

READERS' QUESTIONS

Mrs Andrews from Bishop Auckland has just come back from a holiday in Italy and saw a large mulberry tree growing in one of the town squares. It was such a noble tree, she wants to know if it is possible to grow one in this part of the country, and if there is a particular variety she should look out for.

THE best kind to grow in England is the Morus nigra, or common (black) mulberry. The wood used to be used for furniture making, especially down in Southern England. They are deciduous, fruit-bearing and very long-lived. They can grow up to 30 foot high with a dense head of heart-shaped leaves.

The fruits, like large sweet raspberries, ripen in September. They prefer a welldrained soil, and a slightly sheltered position, but once established are remarkably hardy. They can quickly rejuvenate themselves after even severe damage, and withstand polluted atmospheres better than most trees. A mature mulberry in the garden can most definitely become a proud object of discussion.

Brigid presents Ask about Gardening every Sunday lunchtime from 12-2pm on BBC Radio Cleveland 95FM. Send your questions to be answered in The Northern Echo to Brigid at brigidpress@hotmail. com or write to her c/o Nature's World, Ladgate Lane, Acklam, Middlesbrough.

Published: 27/03/2004