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I know, right?

One can never plan for this kind of picture, nature must gift you it, undeserved. There has to be just the right light, just the right time, but most importantly, unbridled cooperation from the plant world.

I didn’t even plant the cleomes, they are volunteers from three years ago, a fascinating study in the vagaries of genetic inheritance. Last year the flowers turned a pale and shy lavender, a far cry from the original hybrids, which glowed intense purple. Imagine my surprise when I took a stroll through the garden on an overcast day last week and ran into this explosion of crazy.

They’re everywhere, enthusiastically reaching out to the sunlight, five foot tall, all spikes and butterfly kisses, I’m melting like butter, I am.

The first year I collected the seeds, which turned out to be a completely unnecessary exercise: you don’t need to plant these flowers, you need to thin their eager volunteers. I can’t wait to see what they come up with next year.

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