|I planted this one|
Occasionally my emotional response to a plant will move past appreciated, rush through admired, hustle past adored and go straight to obsession. Some plants occupy the obsession shelf for a season, some only until their invasive nature or their failure to thrive becomes manifest. Rarely, a plant acquires obsession status that only seems to get deeper with every passing year.
Such is the case with the Beautyberry. Callicarpa americana, sometimes called French Mulberry, first caught my eye in the piney woods of East Texas.
|The birds planted this one|
|And this one, too|
|This one had been planted by birds in the nursery container of a yew tree we bought that promptly died after we planted it. The beautyberry bush (which we originally overlooked) is not so picky.|
I admired that they grow well in shade though seemingly tolerate a fair amount of sun if watered regularly. I came to adore that they survive the occasional trim by the deer in our neighborhood (or the "keeping it out of my way" trimming of the the Dear, here at Gardenista).
Every year I get caught up all over again, staring at the pale first berries in wonder, watching them ripen past pink through to deep purply magenta.
I stand and gaze, watching them through my windows in wonder, until the birds have eaten every last one.