The very instant the last plant-killing cold night had passed in the spring, Gary and I practically raced to the nearest garden center to get plants for the small flower bed beside our front door. We picked up, inspected, and damn near interviewed flowers and plants, laying them out in arrangements in the cart, swapped and switched, and finally came home with our new babies.
Gary planted them, and we waited. And waited. The plants grew, spread out, but the white and purple flowers we were promised at the garden center were apparently shy. We watered them more. We watered them less. I gave them plant food.
Hmmm. The plants were green and healthy, rambling all over the place, but no flowers. We watched them all spring…all summer…and saw nothing but green. We grumbled that we had planted overpriced miniature shrubbery.
Then one day, heading into the house, we noticed a small flower bud finally peeking out to say hello. Once it opened, a few of its friends tagged along. Now, mixed in with the pentas (one of my favorites), are tiny white and purple lantana flowers:
The flowers are now threatening to take over our doorstep, push their way into the house, raid the fridge, and crowd us off of our sofa. Gary and I talked about trimming them back, but we decided nah…we like it better this way.