Day 207: Yes, it's pink. So why do I keep it around? Let's back up to the point when I first moved into my current home a little over thirty years ago. The flower beds had been let go and were entirely grassed over, and there was very little evidence that they had ever held "tame" plants. A few struggled through the matted grass: columbine, an Oriental poppy, a peony, and something I felt certain was delphinium. Between the house and garage was another area which I dubbed the "Barren Wasteland," occupied primarily by the pit in which the captive-air tank for my well resides. The soil surrounding it was too poor even to support grass. However, there was one exception: a plant with large leathery leaves which made a squeaky noise if rubbed together, as I discovered when I tried to dig them up to move to a better site. They also had roots anchored on the opposite side of the globe, so the relocation project was abandoned almost before it was begun, and the squeaky-leaved plant was allowed to remain, happy as Larry among the rocks and gritty earth. Eventually, from amid the leaves, a flower stalk arose, bearing a panicle of pink...ugh!...flared bells. Having already had the experience of trying to dig it out, I decided to let it remain. I don't see the Barren Wasteland unless I go out to the garage, and at least it provided some colour. It was some time later that I finally identified it as Bergenia, a semi-succulent perennial which also goes by the common name Pigsqueak. Ah, the squeaky leaves! Suddenly, this persistent pink plant had shown a charm to redeem itself, if only that it allows me to say "Pigsqueak!" in a silly voice as I walk past.
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