When I was a child flowers were an important part of my imaginative, formative days. I’d spend hours tromping through the wide dry creek behind our house that was lined with periwinkle vines - plucking the purple flowers off their stem and sucking the nectar - an unspoken race between me and the honey bees to see who could get to the sweet surprise first. And on the other side of the creek was a giant Acacia tree with low thick twisting branches that were perfect for climbing and the branches also offered a welcoming shade for picnics with imaginary, and real friends.