How red is my garden? Berry red, that's how. And this brilliant baby berry (don't know its official name; hopefully it's not poisonous) is not only raging red; it's resilient red too, for the little wonder is the only - THE ONLY - surviving plant from our original garden, such as it was, which wasn't much, but still.
Indeed, this little beauty is a survivor. Twenty-plus years, much dislocating bulldozing, and, as an astute eye might notice, a somewhat laid-back approach to weed eradication and general garden upkeep, she (or he) has endured and lived to tell the tale. In fact pretty much all I do in that regard these days is take photos of our plants, which is not, technically speaking, plant care or 'gardening', as such, but more plant appreciation, which is something. The plants - the ones that survive at least - know they are admired.
Indeed if you want to know the whole story of the berry red berry - and I sense that you do - her (or his) survival is most directly the result of our first son's insistence that we preserve the little red berry from the bullying bulldozers when they first rolled in back when he was a lad young enough to care about such low-tech things as small red berries. How the lad has changed (!) in the intervening thirteen years, and how the little berries have not.
And this is the true charm of the berry red berry story: how some things change and others stay the same - and long may it be so!
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