When I first started out, I couldn't have loved the ubiquitous vinca, the graceless juniper, or the primrose that all but screams "old lady here!" They were simple plants, poked into the ground by simple people who just didn't know better than to go to the nearest garden megamart and ask for something "hardy."
These plants survive day after day of not enough and too much.
Now I swoon watching a plain purple vinca kissing a vibrant indigo muscari. The deep crevases in a primrose leaf hold secrets and juniper berries land lightly like alien pods in my palms.
I am the old lady here and I carry the weight and the grace of knowing what old ladies know.
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