Lake Lewisia #230

[scrubjayspeaks]

She had learned never to rip out apparently dead plants in the garden, at least not right away. Sometimes dead wood was merely sleeping, and sometimes what had withered above ground survived below. Patience had thus far yielded miraculously resurrecting annuals, resilient fruit trees, and at least one hydrangea bush that died and came back as something else, something unidentifiable, something that bloomed in a mad riot of colors every other Tuesday.

---

LL#230