I did not plant the bright pink petunias that I found growing out of a pot of climbing mandevilla late this summer. Yes, I had noticed some unplanned greenery starting to sprout up in that pot on my deck. I assumed they were weeds and being only 3-4 inches tall, they fell low on my weed removal priority list, somewhere behind the thistles bigger than the dog, and the mystery weeds that were taller than me and had already gone to seed. Why would I crawl on my deck on my hands and knees to tweek out some little green shoots when I clearly had much bigger horticultural projects to tackle?
So I forgot about those little shoots and was surprised to discover some weeks later these petunias that were thriving unlike any I had ever planted before, tumbling over the edge of the deck in a riot of ridiculous pinkness. It took a minute to stop congratulating myself on the improvement in my container gardening skills when I remembered that I had never planted those petunias.
They were a spontaneous eruption for which I take no credit, unless you count not keeping my containers tidy as an accomplishment. I am left to just enjoy their bright color and envy their gumption and wonder how many things I pull out actually have so much potential and how many things I keep are weeds in disguise.
I have often heard and seen the phrase ‘bloom where you are planted,” on greeting cards and magnets and notepads. Mary Englebreit tells us that this is a good idea, and it is. Of course, she also tells us that life is a chair of bowlies, so we take her advice with a grain of salt.
Yes, I can keep working to bloom where I am planted. Or I can make like a petunia and plant myself where I want to bloom.
(Perhaps this is a good place to note that the petunias I did plant this summer, a proper and rather conservative white variety, all shriveled in the heat in a matter of days, even though I watered them. Hmmm.)
Tonight is a hard freeze, so these beauties will be gone. I am glad they stopped by for a visit.