When I was a kid nasturtiums grew over the septic tank, lush and lovely and a haven for red-bellied black snakes. We called them ‘nasty urchins’. Back then they were sprawling, tough leaved and, invariably, bright yellow. We braved the black snakes and sat among the greenery and sucked out the nectar, which is how and where I received my first proposal of marriage.

I said yes and we went inside to tell his mum, who was taking a sponge cake out of the oven and told us to wash our hands and we could have a slice as soon as it cooled enough to cover with jam and cream and passionfruit. The next year we started school, in different classes, and the romance withered.

These days nasturtiums come in colours ranging from white and cream to a deep red or flaming scarlet and bi-coloured varieties, single or double, as well as well-behaved ones suited to grow into a neat mound in hanging baskets where they will bloom all year round if you feed and water them and they get at least Cº 15 and no frosts, which can kill them. But concrete patios can provide more heat and less frost, allowing even those in temperate or cool climates to enjoy their ‘urchins’.

On the other hand, like bougainvilleas, the untamed giant varieties are the most vigorous, and more vigorous often also means more cold hardy. I’ve only tried growing the bright red nasturtiums twice. Each time we had maybe eight weeks of blooms, then whump, a frost killed them all. With the yellows we don’t get the Brisbane-type abundance, but we do get flowers from midi-summer to Easter, assuming they are watered, fed, weeded and cosseted. (In hotter climates, a bit of feeding and watering is needed when nasturtiums are small, then let them go wild. And they will.)

Nasturtiums are not what you’d call vase flowers, though you can stick a few tiny stems in a narrow bud vase. Like camellias, you can float them delicately in a shallow bowl of water for your dining table – far better than a vase of tall flowers where you can’t see the person opposite you.