As a plant lover, I tend to attribute human emotions and traits to the plants in our garden. They become like people to me, with the same human flaws and triumphs and feelings that we all have. As such, I’m especially touched when one of them goes above and beyond what is normally expected of them, surviving in difficult conditions or thriving when given the opportunity. Can win point is this tiny little pink petunia, which seeded itself unbeknownst to me, in a crack of cement between the patio and the pool. Generally that space is informally reserved by a thin line of weeds which, depending on how ambitious I’m feeling or how strong my back is on any given day, has been known to get occasionally out of hand. It happens sooner than you’d think, and by the time I get to the end of weeding the space, the place where I began is usually already well on its way to needing it again.
This year I hadn’t quite gotten to it when I noticed this little bright spot of pink – courtesy of a seed that must have remained from a container planting last year (this year’s pink petunias have not yet gone to seed). It touched me – even for weeds, surviving in the thin sliver of a crack between concrete slabs is a feat. For cultivated plants, the odds are even less. Fortunately for us, petunias don’t need to be coddled or pampered to put on a happy show, and this little guy was willing to do so in an unexpected moment when I needed it most.
It reminded me of a tomato I once found growing on a sidewalk in Boston. There is something hopeful in the notion of that kind of survival.
