Foxglove growing in an unlikely place.
Each season brings new surprises, a changing of the guard so to speak, when petals fall, snowflakes melt or swallows sail. Last year, I noticed a sweet sprout of a surprise growing in the fork of my old black locust tree. A closer look confirmed a foxglove had taken root in the most unlikely and challenging of garden beds. Since foxgloves are biennial, I knew its floral spike would be another year away, that is if it survived its precarious perch.
This spring the sprout bolted skyward like it was rooted in the richest garden soil around. (I know there’s a life metaphor in here somewhere.) The aged bark of the locust is a gnarly foil to the soft, fuzzy green leaves and pepto-bismol pink flowers of the foxglove.
The only trouble is, my hammock is on the wrong side.