The royal palace

Periwinkle seeds sown in sandy-loam soil

 

They say in eastern Flanders that periwinkles are used as bookmarks by anyone who enjoys reading in the fields.
Years later, when these readers come across their book again, they discover that the pages in which they slipped a periwinkle have disappeared behind a blue stain. But they all remember word for word what was written on them, for we usually put down our book when we are really overcome by what we have just read.

Primrose seeds sown in Condruzian soil

 

They say in the province of Namur that people wanting a good night’s rest put primroses at the head of the bed.
The next morning they patiently remove all the petals that have fallen and, carried by their bodily movements, have been scattered under the bedclothes. This forces them to take the time to remember their dreams, one by one.

Broom seeds sown in Campine soil

 

They say in the province of Limbourg that in certain extremely unusual conditions of light and humidity, you can actually see the broom growing.
But whatever the conditions, if you take the time to look in the eye people claiming to have seen them grow, you can tell whether they are telling the truth or not.

Violet seeds sown in Mosan soil

 

They used to say in the province of Liège that violet seeds were extracted from the banks of the Meuse to make rosaries for young peasant girls about to get married who in a fertility ritual would recite their rosary until the liveliest seeds, continually coated in the damp earth in their hands, began to sprout.
When they died, their grateful children would place in an earthenware pot the seeds of the rosary that never germinated in their mother's hands.

Ranunculus seeds sown in the soil of Brabant.

 

They say in the province of Walloon that small children discovering fields of buttercups see each flower as a yellow push-button.
They can spend days on end squashing them in the hope of seeing something in the landscape switched on.

Hyacinth seeds sown in soil taken from loamy forests

 

They say in the province of Hainaut that when real walkers chance upon some enchanting scenery, they remember the paths to follow according to where the hyacinths grow.
Then the following year, even if the countryside has been spoiled, even if every form of vegetation has gone, they continue to walk in the memory of the scenery they loved.

Anemone seeds sown in Gaumish soil.

 

They say in the province of Luxembourg that anemones you come across in the fields grow only in places where there used to be a house.
But as over time our recollections tend to make places from the past seem larger, the anemone fields are gradually spreading.

Heather seeds sown in Campine soil

 

They say in the province of Antwerp that in their rehearsal script the actors place sprigs of heather over the lines they are afraid of forgetting on the night.
This does not stop them forgetting these lines on the night, but having a flower to think about during their memory lapse makes it less of an ordeal for them.

Daisy seeds sown in soil taken from the polders.

 

They say in the province of western Flanders, the same daisy pattern is to be found on the wallpaper of most of the houses.
Either out of mimicry, or because the eye has got used to their domestic layout, it would seem that daisies follow an identical pattern in nature.

Poppy seeds planted in soil from Brabant

 

They say in the province of Flemish Brabant that when you want to know if the secret you are afraid you have given away too quickly to someone is going to be kept, you tell it again in the hollow of a poppy.
If at nightfall the flower closes up on itself, this is reassuring. On the other hand, if its petals fall onto the ground, it will be revealed some day. If the petals fall on another poppy which itself falls on another, that is just too bad – your secret is already public knowledge.

Iris seeds sown in soil taken from a square in Brussels.

 

They say in Brussels that iris have become so closely dependent on the human race that they can only germinate in the soil that has got under the fingernails of those that work it.