The Little Plants that Could

I think the plants that I admire the most are the ones that seem to defy the odds. Sometimes I have begrudging admiration for even pesky plants that manage to trudge along and find their way despite of less-that-perfect circumstances.

For example, I planted three caladium bulbs under the giant bonsai tree this spring. And I watered and waited. And nothing happened. I figured they were goners, and filed them in the "plants that don't survive in my yard" box and forgot about them.

Then, in mid-July, I saw a spike of growth coming out of the ground. A few days later, this emerged:
One of the other caladium bulbs managed too:

Surprise Lilies; the name says it all. They produce thick foliage in the spring and then appear to die back. Then, in August, just when you think they're goners, they bloom beautifully. I fall for it every time. They even smell nice, too.

I started these coleus from seed this spring. They are now taller than O. This is the first time I've found a good spot for coleus, because they seem happy in a spot with lots of morning and early afternoon sun but protection from the late-day heat. This finding has inspired me to fill out this flower bed more, and I hope to try some additional varieties of coleus next year.

I planted the barberry below last fall to replace the thuja that died last summer. This barberry is supposed to about 5 feet tall and doesn't branch out much, which is why I thought it was appropriate for this spot. Unfortunately, this spot is just off the patio in the backyard, where O. like to play, and he tends to run right through this spot, crushing tiny shrubs in his path. We placed the fence you see in the photo around the barberry last fall, but O. insisted that it was a great thing to make shapes with. We gave him his own fence, saying that one fence was for him and one was for the barberry, but the urge to create hexagons was too great, and he ripped the second fence out of the ground as soon as we weren't looking.

Winter came, I thought this would be help; less time outside for O. which would give the barberry a fighting chance. But the ice storm of 2008 proved, once again, too tempting for O., and before I could scream "NOOOOOO!" he snapped the little barberry off at its base. He liked to like the sound of the ice breaking off the branches and clinking on the ice-covered snow. I can't say I blame him for that, but the bad news was that by spring, the barberry was down to a one inch stub above the ground.


And look at it now: the tallest spike is ten inches at least, and still going. O. is doing a better job of staying away from it, too.

And in other news, yesterday O. decided that he was a baby bird. A grey and blue jay, in fact, as noted in his choice of t-shirt and wash cloths. He flapped around the yard, hopped on rocks, and slept in his nest (the castle) most of yesterday morning. J. and I convinced him to do his best fledgling blue jay imitation:
A decent imitation in my opinion.