If you didn’t know and had to take an educated guess at where zinnias originate from then it is quite likely that Mexico would come near the top of the list. With their kaleidoscopic colours and searing vibrancy they speak of a hot climate and it is no surprise to discover that Frida Kahlo grew them in her garden at Casa Azul, the home she shared with Diego Rivera in Mexico City, where they honoured indigenous culture and planted only native species. Visitors at the time would recall the blood red zinnias that decorated the dining table and, if you look at the many self-portraits and photographic portraits of Kahlo, alongside dahlias, tagetes and bougainvillea, zinnias also feature in some of the dramatic floral headpieces that were her trademark.   

Despite a love of colour, for many years I could not see the attraction in them. Their stiff habit, dry, papery petals and outlandish colours reminded me too strongly of the depressing vases of cloth flowers my grandmothers and great aunts had gathering dust on mantelpieces and windowsills when I was a child. In the past few years, though, I have begun to appreciate the shot of energy they bring at this time of the year, when many perennials in the garden are on the wane. Picked for the house, in combination their colours intensify and play off each other and, like a good firework display, provoke an instant rush of childlike joy.