…when the only thing left was hope…
I love zinnias. Actually, it would not be stretching it to say I’m nuts about them. Nuts to the point where I’ll even try to grow them in this climate. With limited success, I admit. And then only when I can sow them early enough, to flower well ahead of the wet season.
I was not successful this year. Well, not until now. I spied this tiny thing, peeping out from behind an overgrown orthosiphon beside the drive. Poor little scrap! It is having one last roll of the dice and hoping to set seed. (Difficult to see its size, but think a 5p piece.Or 5c Australian.)
Some things thumb their noses at hope and just fling themselves about with wild abandon, like this “weed.”
And some things have the tenacity of an investigative journalist. This Mussaenda philippica
is right on the edge of the drive so it’s been ” vehicular- pruned” many times. I just hope it can bear the weight of a passion fruit vine!
Yet another member of the great tomato tribe…
Solanum seaforthianum. The “Weed Police” are probably getting my canvas blanket and tin dish ready as you read… “Well, yes, Your Honour, I do know it’s poisonous. And, yes, I know it’s illegal to sell it. But it’s the birds, y’see…they eat the berries and… And yes, I probably should rip it out. But it’s pretty!” I hope Her Majesty doesn’t still serve cauliflower cheese!
Yesterday, I heard that the official count of flood-damaged houses in town is over 4,000. While we have a muddy mess in the garden and back yard, the house is fine. Well, it will be once I’ve washed the mould off the walls. And checked that framed paintings haven’t got mould inside the glass. And cleaned the windows. And aired all the linen.
But at least I have a house. And hope.