Postcards - IX

That plant, she says, is not a 'touch me not'.
But you told me it was.
No, I told you that it wasn't.
It is, I protest. Look, if you touch it, the leaves fold.
This is great fun for me: making the leaves close and open.
I've spent hours of my childhood doing precisely this.
It's not a touch me not, she repeats.
She has trouble remembering the Latin names of plants now, and reverts to the names of her childhood. That's a 'vatta' she says. 'And that's a jaadika'.
And that's a touch me not, I add.
She frowns at me.
No, it's not.
This could take a while.