In The Barren Wasteland

Day 273: The 10' strip of yard which lies between the back wall of the house and the garage is known as the Barren Wasteland. Much of it is occupied by the cover for the pit in which the captive-air tank of my domestic water system sits, and a concrete slab of similar size which has no obvious reason for being there. As I discovered early on when I tried to locate a vegetable garden there, the soil is poor, rocky, nutrient-depleted fill. Still, I wanted something in that space so, being the type of person who doesn't want to kill a perfectly good flower outright, I began transplanting the things I didn't want in my flower beds with the thought that if they survived in the Barren Wasteland, they were worthy of admiration, and if they didn't...oh, well. The plot also became a repository for the contents of free wildflower seed packets, those "especially selected for your area" envelopes which tend to be filled with non-native species and outright weeds. I figured I was in for some serious weed-pulling, but also that I might get some colour in the long term. In other words, the Barren Wasteland was destined to become a home for the unruly, the mildly obnoxious, the problem children who deserved a chance to redeem themselves to become useful members of society: Oriental poppies, Rudbeckia, mint, English bluebells, Phlox, Pigsqueak. Somewhere along the line, Rose Campion crept in, and every year it surprises me when it opens its bright magenta eyes at the tops of 3' stems. How it grows so tall before I notice it is anyone's guess. I suppose it's because I overlook the Barren Wasteland's faults and accept that it's doing the best it can to please me, and please me it does, even though its population of rejects leans rather toward the pink end of the spectrum.