ALIAS PRIMROSE
22.01.2024 - 21:21
/ backyardgardener.com
When I moved into my house in mid-February a year and a half ago, one of the first things I did was to walk around the yard, and try to figure out what the previous owner had planted. The winter had been exceptionally mild, and she had done little garden clean up, so it was easy to identify the remnants of marigolds, the desiccated hosta leaves and the naked canes of miniature rose bushes. When I came to the front strip, between the sidewalk and the street, I noticed that there was a bare patch of earth, approximately 18” long and perhaps 8” wide.“Grubs”, I thought, or maybe just drought or dog-related grass mortality.I made a mental note to throw some grass seed on the spot come spring.
When spring arrived, however, I involved myself in an orgy of purchasing and planting, and forgot about the bare spot. When grass-cutting season commenced, I noticed that the spot had miraculously covered itself with something that had narrow bluish-green foliage. The little plants were not chickweed, ground ivy, plantain, lambs’ quarters, or even the dreaded Japanese knotweed. They were, in fact, none of the many common weeds that had been appearing and reproducing themselves at astonishing speed around the rest of my yard and garden. As usual, prudence and my indolent nature saved the mystery plants from being lopped by the mower or rooted out with the garden hoe.
Eventually, May arrived, and while I was waiting anxiously for blooms on my new rosebushes, I saw that the formerly bare spot was now arrayed with pink, cup-shaped blossoms. All flowers seem like a miracle to me, especially if they happen to be growing successfully in my garden.I wasn’t familiar with these four petaled blossoms, but I was fascinated by the fact that they were
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