The Latin Plant Off

The Latin Plant Off.

The botanical centre’s gardens were a riot of colour, buzzing with bees and the faint hum of distant sprinklers. Megan strolled beside Ethan, swinging her wicker basket with exaggerated elegance, her sunhat askew. She wasn’t here to learn about plants—she was here for fun. And when Megan saw Ethan inspecting a patch of marigolds, she couldn’t resist.

“Ah, yes,” Megan said, crouching next to him and gesturing dramatically, "Calendula absurdica."

Ethan glanced up, one eyebrow raised. "Sorry, what now?"

“You know, Calendula absurdica. The lesser-spotted Giggleweed. Blooms best when watered with rain collected on Tuesdays.” She tapped a marigold with the tip of her finger and sighed deeply. "Such an underrated species."

Ethan smirked, setting down his trowel. "Interesting. And where exactly is Giggleweed native to?"

“Oh, everywhere,” Megan said airily. "It’s adaptable. Thrives in jungles, deserts, supermarket car parks…"

“Sounds incredibly versatile,” Ethan said, rubbing his chin. "Though I’m surprised I’ve never heard of it."

Megan shot him a cheeky grin. "Well, Ethan, you can’t know everything about plants. Even experts have their blind spots."

Ethan chuckled, plucking a stray weed from the soil. "Fair point. What else have you got for me?"

“Hmm.” Megan stood and gazed around the garden with a thoughtful expression, then pointed at a patch of lavender. "Lavandula gigglensis. It’s known for its calming aroma, but only if you say the magic words."

“And those words are?” Ethan asked, biting back a smile.

“'Please stop asking me questions, Ethan,'” Megan replied solemnly.

Ethan laughed, leaning back on his heels. “Alright, Gigglensis. I'll play along. What about this one?” He gestured at a tall sunflower swaying in the breeze.

Megan clapped her hands. "Oh, that’s easy. Helianthus preposterous. A sun worshipper, obviously. Rumour has it the ancient Romans used its petals as currency."

“Really? And how much was a petal worth?” Ethan asked, feigning intense interest.

“Well,” Megan began, twirling a stray hair around her finger, "you could trade three petals for a pair of sandals, but only if they were handmade by Julius Caesar himself."

Ethan shook his head, laughing. "Megan, you’re absolutely ridiculous."

“I try,” she said with a mock bow. "But admit it, my plant names have panache."

"Panache? Sure. Credibility? Zero."

“Who needs credibility when you've got Calendula absurdica?” Megan said, winking. "What about you? Surely you’ve got some equally ridiculous names to share."

Ethan thought for a moment, then pointed at a patch of moss. "That there? Bryophyta laughabilis. Its spores can allegedly predict the weather, but only if you speak to them in Old Norse."

Megan gasped. "I knew it! I’ve always suspected moss had mystical powers."

“Oh, it does,” Ethan said solemnly. "But you need to be certified in Norse rune reading to unlock its full potential."

Megan doubled over with laughter, clutching her basket. "Okay, okay, you win this round, but I’ll be back. Next time, I’m bringing Peony nonsensicus and Ficus ridiculousus."

“Can't wait,” Ethan said, grinning. As Megan sauntered away, he shook his head and returned to his work, already looking forward to their next round of botanical nonsense.

The Latin Plant Off.

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