Books Do Furnish A Room: Seeds, seeds, glorious seeds!

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Wednesday, 03 September 2008

Seeds, seeds, glorious seeds!

I do suggest you visit this marvellous slide show from Kew Gardens, five gentle minutes illustrated with fantastically beautiful highly magnified pictures of seeds. Stunning just aesthetically, even if you're not a plant buff! (Don't forget to turn the captions on if you want to know what they all are).

And, you'll learn why you never see a fig tree in flower (I have one in my garden, and in 12 years I'd never noticed).

Posted at 05:10 PM in Miscellanea | Permalink

Comments

Thanks for that, it was very interesting! :)

Posted by: Kaitlyn | Friday, 05 September 2008 at 09:56 AM

Wow! amazing and informative. Thanks.

Posted by: Harriet | Thursday, 04 September 2008 at 09:56 AM

This video is very interesting, and slightly weird....... ;)

Posted by: Harri | Wednesday, 03 September 2008 at 09:14 PM

The comments to this entry are closed.

Quotidian

Nothing is of greater consolation to the author of a novel than the disovery of readings he had not conceived but which are then prompted by his readers. (Umberto Eco, Reflections on The Name of the Rose)
... relatively few persons in London ... can afford the luxury of one or more servants. No fewer than 3,700,000 have no servants at all, and of the half million that have servants 227,000 have only one. (The Times, 6 June 1895)
Standing among savage scenery, the hotel offers stupendous revelations. There is a French widow in every bedroom, affording delightful prospects. (Tyrolean inn brochure, according to Gerard Hoffnung)
(A doctor is at an elderly relative's deathbed) "The old sawbones, eh?" he bellowed ... "Just in the nick, perhaps. Haul the old girl back by the short hairs, if you ask me. Devilish smart at his work ... Always take a fence with more confidence when I know he's out with us."
Too often, when a man of Monty Godkin's mental powers is plunged in thought, nothing happens at all. The machinery just whirs for a while, and that is the end of it. (P G Wodehouse, Heavy Weather)
...the breed that take their pleasures as Saint Laurence took his grid (Kipling, The Five nations)