Every day I look at the garden and appreciate the variety of shapes and colours. Then even sitting inside I can hear it getting rustled by the strong wind that rattles through the reeds and clatters the palm leaves against each other. There's often a pleasant creaking from the bamboo that always reminds me of being on a wooden boat. If I never had the chance to be in our garden again there are a number of smells that would stay with me such as the fragrant jasmine or astringent banana flowers; brushing against tomato plants, plus the fruity perfume of crushed mango leaves. And I enjoy the garden's taste every day through the fruit and veg we grow. But how about the fifth sense?
What a difference a way makes. Run your fingers up the edges of this pineapple leaf and it is a pleasant line of regularly-spaced hard little bumps like a baby dragon's spine. But I don't recommend running your fingers the other way - the dragon's teeth will snag and rip your skin as they do to my forearms whenever I try weeding too close to them.
The tips of the pineapple's young leaves are also hard and sharp enough to puncture skin but a palm drawn upwards in the direction they grow is gently scratched, almost tickled, by the leaves' springiness.
Aloe vera is a less savage beast with kitten teeth that look worse than they feel.
Young leaves of this Cassia are covered with fine hairs and are as soft as a puppy's ear. It was our 10-year-old nephew who pointed this out to me. He often carries one around the garden in one hand with a stick to bash things in the other. Sorry for mentioning this but these leaves would actually make a good substitute for toilet paper...if they weren't so small.
This Gomphrena weed does well amongst the gravel of our drive and visually smooths the hard edges nicely. Its has a soft, springy feel that danced under my hand.
The gravel itself, on the other hand, felt very man-made and somehow lacking as though it was trying too hard to be interesting.
A large stone was much more satisfying to grope. Irregular and naturally varied, although I do prefer the more forgiving touch of plants.
Banana leaves were also somehow lacking. Their parallel ridges and slightly waxy touch is actually quite uninspiring, vaguely similar to paper folds. I love banana plants for a number of reasons but was hoping for more from them in this touch-test.
Even a young papaya trunk is already scarred by the large leaves that have come and gone. They have a strange combination of a smooth but very knobbled surface that feels good under a full grip as though it was designed to be held. But not too firmly as these plants are wimps pretending to be as tough as wood but actually breaking or falling too easily. Great fruit though!
There was so much give in the leaves of this young palm that if I closed my eyes as I brushed my hand along it, it convincingly felt like I was touching somebody's long hair. That surprised me.
In contrast, these seedpods had a rigidness that felt more like long hair that had been glued into dreadlocks.
I didn't try every tree but bark didn't disappoint. This golden shower tree had a mealy touch that doesn't sound particularly nice but was helped by its slightly rough texture.
Next to it is this Cassia, which had an interesting feel thanks to its pattern of vertical stripes of roughness. This created a different sensation depending whether my fingers ran along it vertically or horizontally.
The Jamaican cherry bark was another step up in roughness with a satisfying grip like coarse sandpaper.
Frangipani bark had a dull smooth texture saved by these weird knobs. They almost felt like a massage device that might be rolled over your skin.
The most enjoyable bark was this neem tree with its big solid ridges full of texture of never-ending variation. It felt substantial and full of character. A real delight to explore with fingers.
But I have saved my absolute favourite until last. I never tire of feeling our jackfruit. It has the remarkable character of gently holding on to you. This gives the impression of something mutual. And the feel subtely changes as the distance between those little pointy scales expand with the fruit's growth. I wouldn't like to bang my head into one but shaking hands with it is always a pleasure.
And that completes the senses, but the sensory exploration of a garden can never really be finished.
