‘Life will not be denied!” is the cry that often goes up when I am in the garden, especially when I’m pulling weeds that have come up in the path through layers of cardboard and wood chips. Sometimes the undenied life is beautiful like this tendril of a Grandpa Ott morning glory that just peeked through the slats in the Welcoming Platform in front of the house. A couple of years ago I planted a teepee of Grandpa Otts in a large pot on the Platform. Volunteers crawled through the herb bed last year, but I saw nothing this year – until now.
Grandpa Ott is beautiful, isn’t he, if sometimes a nuisance. All I get in my garden are Potato Vines, lol. I do love the volunteer bright pinks and purples.
Sweet Bay – So far Grandpa Ott hasn’t been a nuisance, and his color is so gorgeous.
Pat
Oh, gosh. Grandpa Ott and I have a struggle each year about who owns my small back garden. Most years, he wins as we’re away just around the time I should be ushering his many grandchildren to the door. This year, we seemed to have reached détente. He’s still sending out his many offspring, but I’m managing to claim a little territory for the roses and clematis. Gotta admire his tenacity, though. Your little seedling looks deceptively sweet.
Helen – Grandpa Ott is persistent but I thought I could credit his good behavior to our cold climate. Still, I think Toronto must be as cold as Heath, unless there is some climate secret up there.
Pat