They call her a weed

I call her,




She sits there, handed off as a discard by a visiting bird or insect.  Nestled beneath a damaged cedar, she sprung into her glorious self  this past year.  I had no idea what she was, but I eagerly watched her bloom, and then seed.    What is more beautiful:  the flower, or the berry?  (I’ll post her fruit later this year.)  Each has it’s merits, and both are majestic. 

I’ve been warned that she’ll become invasive, setting her roots deep and causing angst with her spreading nature, but I have decided to ignore those concerns.  After all, this girl is growing in native ground, in an area that fights drought and the extremes of weather.  If she can hold tight, she can stay, I’m in no hurry to move her into the discards of the compost pile.   When the temperature reaches into the hundreds, and rain has been missing for weeks, I’ll bet she’ll still ceases to amaze me.

Nature surprises us with her gifts.  This girl, Poke Salad ‘Annie’, is my guest.


~ by coffeegrounded on May 12, 2009.

One Response to “They call her a weed”

  1. you have a serene, beautiful garden.


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