Despite neglect and rough treatment, the columbines Mike's mother gave us last year have burst into color. And there are three red columbine buds just waiting for their turn. I love seeing flowers spring from rocks.
Perhaps I am twisted, but when I visit tropical or warm, moist climes, the plants' ease of life offends me. I feel as though they should have to strive more. Yes, they are beautiful, but do they really deserve to flourish so? With no toiling? No adversity? But a columbine in the rocks or a bristlecone pine on a summit, now that's a plant I can respect.
No doubt this tells far more about my inner psyche than is complimentary, or maybe it just comes from being made up of solid, pioneer stock. But because of this penchant for "deserving" plants, I love my hardy Colorado surroundings where, now that the spring has finally taken her throne, hummingbirds are buzzing and bumblebees are toiling; aspen leaves are fluttering and columbines are blooming.