Sixteen years ago I planted two yellow Mexican birds of paradise, anchoring a corner of the front yard. Their cousins, the reddish ones, have thrived over the years.
I transplanted one to a shadier spot a few years ago, on the theory of the right plant in the right place. It died.
So imagine my surprise when I went to pick up the Sunday paper and saw this.
My patience with the scrawny bush has been rewarded. It's finally joining the yellow season.
It takes a lot for a plant to survive in that habitat. She persisted.
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