Now, doesn't her name even sound Divine? How could we have known, one short year ago, that this house we rushed to buy was in an area of town that held such treasures. Here is the unassuming ditch in which I found her:
[caption id="attachment_790" align="alignnone" width="625"] Greater Fondren SW[/caption]
And P. incarnata grows wildly (some may say invasively) and freely, everywhere in it.
Look at this damsel!
There are the egg-shaped, soporific, edible fruit, too, which I haven't found to be too juicy:
So we are blessed to live not even a mile away from this ditch which contains this very rugged P. incarnata, but also other friends commonly seen in fields and other wild places:
Which is what I love about these survivors. They don't mind growing any place.
And any place is made more beautiful because of them. So saying, I drove myself out there this morning and brought back home a vine:
[caption id="attachment_797" align="alignnone" width="625"] Welcome home, P. incarnata![/caption]
Noticed she was growing in that very humble clay gumbo that's so common to these coastal prairie parts we know now as Houston. But I fixed her up in a pot and all:
[caption id="attachment_798" align="alignnone" width="625"] Ah, that's better.[/caption]
So I hope she'll be happy here.
[caption id="attachment_799" align="alignnone" width="625"] Much better![/caption]
See you in Arcadia!
One day, two days, three days old by Woody Guthrie | Sung by Elizabeth Mitchell