Club may become depressed but Mr. August Amaral is always happy to see the rain.

That's what the flowers want, that is what makes them thrive and whatever makes the flowers happy makes Mr. Amaral happy too. For it is Mr. Amaral who can claim the credit for Harmony Club's magnificent floral gardens, surely some of the finest on the Island.

Mr. Amaral is a modest man. His pride in the magnificent flowers and shrubs that adorn the Club is mixed with a natural modesty, for Mr. Amaral believes that the flowers should do the speaking for him, and they should receive the admiration. His mild manner belies a firm attitude as far as the flowers are concerned. On any given day this week's flowers may have to go, all to be uprooted to make way for next week's display.

Although he is not always sure of the English names of all of his different blooms, he tends them with all the care and love of a professional, but a self-taught, experienced gardener.

Mr.

Amaral has been a gardener at Harmony Club for 44 years, having followed his brother to Bermuda from the Azores. For seven years he didn't see his homeland but when he went back on vacation he made the trip worthwhile. He found a bride and brought her back here to live.

But the Amaral contribution to the Club does not just mean a painstaking, thorough gardener. Enter Mrs Amaral who, after raising two boys, came to work at Harmony Club eight years ago and was doing general duties when the dining room captain asked her to arrange some flowers. That was when a natural talent revealed itself -- flower arranging.

Natural talent it is, because Mrs Amaral has not had one day's instruction on how to arrange flowers. That is probably the hardest thing for the guests to believe as they wander the halls and rooms of the Club and remark on the skillful arrangements and displays of all of Mr. Amaral's cultivation.

"The guests always ask about the flowers, who grows them, who arranges them.

And I'm always pleased when they noticesmiles Mrs Amaral.

The modest couple walks the estate pointing out the flowers like proud parents at a school prom. "Not quite sure of the name of these ones,'' says Mr.

Amaral, pointing to a blaze of colour. "Well I know the name, but not in English.'' In the little pink house on the edge of the property is the nursery with seedlings and tiny plants in their pots, waiting for their moment of glory.

Does the Botanical Gardens know of this competition? MR. August Amaral shows off the fruits of his labours.