Years ago, when I used to do gardening and tree felling for a living, a customer asked me to remove some shrubbery to make way for a patio.
Hidden amongst the lilacs and heebie jeebies was a tiny little plant. He was about 4 inches high with a few glossy green leaves. The lady of the house told me he was a mock rose.
Later that day, when I arrived at the tip, I somehow couldn't bring myself to throw the little plant into the gaping maw of the woodchipper, so I filled an empty paint tin with soil, stuck the little blighter in there, and took him home.
Over the next few months, as he sat outside the caravan in his tin, he had ample opportunity to die. The frost froze him solid, we forgot to water him and the sun shrivelled him up, the kids knocked him over, and a caterpillar ate the best two of his three leaves. He was a stubborn little sod, but I can't imagine how he managed to cling to life.
By the time we moved to where we are now, he was at a very low ebb. There was more potential in a lolly stick. Feeling like I was granting his last wish, I found a nice sunny spot and gave him his freedom.
That was almost 10 years ago. Since that day, he has never looked back. He just goes from strength to strength.
He came into bloom again yesterday. Ain't e 'ansome?
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