It is possible to describe a succulent plant from the confines of an herbarium; N.E.Brown did it for more than fifty years, brilliantly. To understand the dynamic life of a plant community, however, one must somehow join the community. This requires corporeal stamina, imaginative empathy, a particularly resilient sort of enthusiasm, and patience in abundance.

 

When I met Florent Grenier ten years ago it was clear that he already had three of those qualities. The last-named would have been unusual in someone so young, but it quickly developed under the hypnotic influence of Namaqualand. The more time Florent spent there, the more he adopted its rhythms and slow-fast tempi. Even his epidermis acquired an alfresco toughness and a permatan. If Florent failed to develop leaves, unlike the mythic Daphne, it was not for lack of merit.

 

The first result of this lengthy engagement with nature is the present book, unique in style and methodology. It feels partly familiar to me because I’ve long been the fortunate recipient of Florent’s photographs and observations, piece by piece. Usually he’d email me when newly, and perhaps safely, back in Paris. More recently Florent has been sending images whilst still in situ, enabling some no-sweat fieldwork. One wonders what Brown would have done with it. Surely his interests in pollination, evolution, and variability would have been greatly stimulated. 

 

Florent and I have often debated identifications. Many of his finds don’t fit the standard species descriptions, but many of the habitats he’s inhabited are not standard either – far from tar roads or any roads, too high up, awkward to reach, punishingly arid. To have visual and informational access to these wonderfully odd plants and places is a beautiful privilege. I hope it continues for many more years.

 

The excellent translation is the work of Catherine Arthur, a Daphne who lives in Spain when she’s not in Springbok.

 

Steven Hammer

 

Vista, California, June 2019