A thousand years ago, I was visiting a dear friend who is a genius architect at his office. He met me as I stepped up to the the door.
"Do you know what that is?" he asked as he pointed to a shiny large leafed plant in a handsome pot beside the door.
"No," I said. "I like it. It reminds me of a fatsia. Great leaves. What is it?"
"Acanthus."
"Acanthus? Why have I heard of that?"
"It's the stylized leaf used in the Corinthian column capital."
"Oh! How! Fan! Tastic! It's wonderful! Is it hard to grow?"
"Nah, super easy. And, when it blooms, a large stock shoots up into the air. Handsome as hell."
Now, this is what I've learned when someone says "super easy."
It means they are good at it. They are so good at it they can jeté and pirouette with ease as you struggle.
Over the next few decades, I planted acanthus. Here. There. Over. Under. Nothing. Not once.
Jeez. I decided to put acanthus into the clematis category. Another plant I can't seem to grow. And, worst of all, when I see it at a friend's home festooned over the gate in a glorious bower of blooms, she always says, "oh, it's easy." Talk about salt in the wound!
Anyway, I finally gave up planting acanthus in my beds and tried (one last time) to plant it in a pot in my courtyard.
Little by little, it didn't die. Of course, it is a perennial so it does die back in the fall, but this spring? It's back and it looks damn fine.
When I was field tripping with my goddaughter, Linsi, I saw a wonderful acanthus in a perennial bed. Once you see it, you will see it often.
So, if you are looking for a showy, handsome plant ~ think acanthus. A plant with a rich, storied architectural history.
I'd say it was easy to grow but it did take me twenty
years!
Day 37 Everyday Grateful ~
Started out misty.
Ended up blue skies, fluffy clouds.
A perfect Seattle day. Lovely.
The pots on my back deck are just wonderful. Nothing like a little steer manure, water and some sun to make everything shine!
