Have you ever suddenly discover an errant plant in your yard that tickled you pink? I have a handful of such plants right now. Truly, they give me great pleasure...as much for their quirky origins as their natural beauty.
For starters, there's a branch of tiny, blush-pink roses from my neighbor M's yard. It reaches up and over the fence, providing a hint of greenery and color above the meditation garden. When I discovered the limb late last year, I made a point of mentioning it to my neighbor...so she wouldn't trim it back. It's bloomed profusely this Spring and is a welcome addition as we don't have that particular variety on this side of the gate (I really should ask her the name of it...). Meanwhile, my own climbing roses--red--on the opposite side of the backyard have reached up and over to my neighbor A's house...and I believe they bring her joy, too.
Some people have "pass along" plants...we three suburbanites seem to have "pay it forward" roses.
Back in the meditation garden, which my husband designed and planted and continues to tweak, I noticed last week a coral vine has put up a shoot. Hurrah! It's situated in some gravel near the bentwood bench. My husband had planted a vine nearby for me last year, but it didn't make it through summer, I think because of the near-constant rainfall we had. I was so disappointed...coral vines are a favorite of mine and my mother. Because she can't grow them in her yard, I loved telling mom that I had one. Serves me right, of course, that the fool thing up and died. The new one gives me a chance to redeem myself, I suppose.
Coral vines always remind me of visits with my mom to Galveston growing up. Back when things were simpler...not necessarily better...just simpler. There also used to be a perfectly gorgeous specimen of the vine in Austin; on my way home from work, I was often tempted to get out and inspect it. Yup, I had "vine envy." Now it looks like I have another shot at incorporating one into my current landscape. Cross your fingers and maybe it'll survive and produce those pretty pink clusters this summer.
Nearer the back porch--not far from my son's array of outdoor toys, a few random plants have taken root, at least in part, from seeds washed out of the various pots we keep out back. Currently, there's a late-season Johnny Jump-up, some wild lantana and what appears to be a petunia (no flower yet, but I'd guess that it, too, is purple...maybe red). I love the casual, random nature of this wee bouquet and cautiously avoided mowing it this weekend.
As I mentioned in my gardening update last week, a red California poppy--which I've long wanted, having enjoyed them in my late Aunt's garden years ago--has turned up in my front yard. It's just gorgeous (the photo really does not do it justice...although you do get a sense of how hard the drought has been on our land). I must confess that I see the poppy as a bit of a good omen. Having set up this blog and recommitted myself of late to thinking and writing again, it seems like a sweet way for Mother Nature to validate the path I'm on right now.
On another level, I think what is so satisfying about each of these little random joys is that they remind me to focus on the process of tending to my yard, to savor the little pleasures that pop up as they happen. So what if the purple flowers out back or the poppy out front look more like weeds than any artful landscape arrangement...so what if the blush-pink roses aren't actually mine.
They're here now...and they're lovely.
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