I am drawn to spiral shapes. Spirals connect me to something fundamental and mysterious in nature. I’m mesmerized by plants that have spirals, the sheer perfection of their shape and the tranquillity of being drawn in gently towards the centre.
Spirals seem to permeate many diverse natural formations: inorganic and organic, lifeless and alive, unconscious and conscious. When I look at my own fingertip, where I make a fingerprint, I see a spiral. Even the shape of my hair at the crown of my head… another spiral.
In the universe, the spiral arms of galaxies are not transient or random. Our own Milky Way galaxy is a spiral galaxy. Scientists think that spiral structures were formed when stars developed at different intervals in the protogalaxy stage. All of this is beyond the reach of my transient animal mind.
Spirals appear in ancient architecture in different cultures. On my travels to Ireland, I found many examples of the “triple spiral,” a Celtic and pre-Celtic symbol found at a number of Irish Neolithic sites, most notably the passage tomb in County Meath, Ireland (built around 3200 B.C.). The meaning of the triple spiral for the pre-Celtics is unknown since writing had not been invented yet!
Spirals in art, including earth art, draw me in as well. The spirals of the inner workings of plants and flowers in the art of Georgia O’Keeffe come to mind, like inWhite Shell with Red, and my favourite, Abstraction White Rose, 1927. Who doesn’t get lost in the sky swirls in Van Gogh’s Starry Night?
Spirals are a common shape in nature, even the basis of ourselves—the DNA double helix. I find spirals in sunflowers, the path of draining water, weather patterns, pea vine tendrils, the arrangement of leaves on a plant stem, pinecones, pineapples, horns of various animals, the nautilus shell and ferns.
Some of nature’s spirals follow a set sequence of numbers, postulated by an Italian mathematician named Fibonacci, and these numbers approximate what is called the golden ratio. By counting the spirals of a pinecone in one direction and then the other way, you arrive at Fibonacci numbers. I was rather poor at math and haven’t tried it yet.
Plants have made use of spirals in order to ensure that leaves have the maximum exposure to light or to ensure the best seed arrangement. It’s rather efficient for an animal or a plant to have a spiral shape—a scientific principle states that in nature, things are connected or behave in the simplest or most economical way.
My favourite plant spirals
Spiral Aloe (Aloe Polyphylla) is a stemless, very unusual succulent that forms a perfect spiral of leaves that taper to a dark, sharp tip. It produces small flowers in compact clusters. A South African native found on rocky hillsides, it would prefer to be in a rock garden, in a container, on a living wall or in an indoor pot with morning sun.
Sunflowers (Helianthus annuus) are annual plants with a large, daisy-like flower face. Sunflowers are heliotropic, which means that they turn their flowers to follow the movement of the sun across the sky from east to west, and then return at night to face the east, ready again for the morning sun. There are so many varieties to choose from, and they are very easy to grow from seed to have in the garden during the hot months. The spiral shapes of sunflower heads follow a Fibonacci sequence.
Fiddlehead ferns (Matteuccia struthiopteris) are the furled fronds of a young fern. They are called by many common names, such as ostrich or garden fern. Left on the plant, each fiddlehead would unroll into a new frond. The freshly emerged, tightly coiled crosiers or “fiddleheads” look like the scroll head of a violin. If picked young in the spring, just as they are beginning to uncurl, they taste great sauteed with garlic lemon butter. Ferns are definitely shade lovers and are found all over the temperate regions of the world.
Spiral Haworthia (Haworthiopsis limifolia) is part of a fascinating succulent group that I never tire of. They belong, of all things, to the lily family. Haworthias have a characteristic “lens” on the surface of each leaf to collect light. They prefer low sunlight, whether outdoors or indoors. The lens varies greatly in transparency, as well as in its leaf pattern. The spiral Haworthia has rigid, highly textured leaves that swirl outwards, thus its nickname of the “fairy washboard.” Its origin is Southern Africa.
Spiral topiary involves clipping and training an evergreen shrub or tree—typically boxwood, yew, Italian cypress, juniper, or Japanese holly—to form a shape, in this case a spiral. The shape provides structure in the garden, as well as formality and character, especially in winter when so many plants die back or lose their leaves.
Topiary comes in many shapes, and is a prominent feature in grand houses and gardens of the U.K. and Europe. A much easier approach is to buy a specimen plant that is already cropped to a tight spiral or a simpler shape like a half dome, ball or rectangle. Topiary looks great, if done right.
A spiral is the way of all things, the consciousness of nature, expanding inward and outward. As I amble in my garden, the spiral reminds me of life, evolution, of being present in the moment.
«RELATED READ» ADMIRING IMPERFECTION: The wabi-sabi spirit in my garden»
image 1 Annette Meyer from Pixabay 2 image by LoggaWiggler from Pixabay 3 image by C B from Pixabay
