When flowers
do us a favour

Un murmure – une mûre mure

We’re almost halfway through the summer. Nature is having a hard time these days, what with high temperatures, fires… And still, nature keeps giving comfort. As I was picking brambles from my garden hedge this morning, I was thinking that a stroll around vegetation-related vocabulary could have the same kind of soothing effect as picking brambles.

So let’s start with what’s at hand: une mûre (bramble). When it’s ready to be picked, obviously it is ripe, which in French is mure. As a consequence, une mûre mure is a ripe bramble – not to be mistaken for un murmure, which is a whisper.

After spending hours picking brambles, you might walk past a wall and feel like taking a rest. Setting your basket on the wall, you could say (or murmurer): les mûres mures sont sur le mur, mon amour. The tongue twister gets indeed better with a little romantic addition, in order to practice [y] and [u] sounds side by side. Remember: to produce the [y] sound of mûres mures, strain your lips as if you were going to whistle.

Pas de soucis !

Some distance away from the bramble hedge, my tomatoes are far from mures, but they do look promising even though their leaves look dry and somewhat crumpled. Consequence of the high temperatures, I’ve heard. So no mildiou (m)[1] and no pucerons (m, pl), respectively mildew and aphids – please note that for once, we have two nouns here, mildiou (FR) and mildew (EN); with the same pronounciation! The reasons for the absence of aphids could be the lovely row of œillets (m, pl) d’Inde that I have planted in front of the tomatoes. French marigolds, as they’re known in English, are supposed to act as an aphid repulsive. Looking at plant names also gives us some nice clues about the way plants travel. Les œillets d’Inde are literally “carnations from India”, meaning from the West Indies. They became very popular in Europe and France, which accounts for the English “Marigold of France”.

With this bright orange row of French Marigold in place, this year, I refrained from sowing any soucis (m, pl). Contrary to what their name may suggest –un souci also meaning “a worry”–, they’re very easy-going flowers, needing very little attention and brightening the garden sometimes even in winter over here. By the way, le souci is also known as calendula (m), which is full of benefits. I always have calendula cream in my medicine cabinet – comes in handy for little scars, skin rashes, that sort of things.

[1] (m, pl) = masculine, plural form

  (m) = masculine

  (f, pl) = feminine, plural form

  (f) = feminine

Flower Power

I wonder if this beneficial and generous character of some plants and flowers is the origin of the idiomatic expression Faire une fleur, which literally means “to do somebody a flower”, but actually means “to do somebody a favour”. Fleur… Favour… same initials, quite close ending sounds. Probably no link whatsoever, but still a way to remember the idiom and its meaning.

As an illustration, let’s say you go to your favourite florist and she ends in giving you two calendulas for the price of one, then you could say: la fleuriste m’a fait une fleur. It wasn’t an advertised promotion, it wasn’t planned, it was an sincere and generous gesture. That’s what Faire une fleur means. A bit like when we humans remember to behave naturally. Which can happen. Sometimes.

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