Hostas

The wife and I inherited a barren landscape when we bought our house, save for a row of tiger lilies along the north side that we never look at because it is more for the neighbors.

Then it started last August with a simple plea for some plantable plant life. That's when we were given our first hosta. It was rough around the edges, but we were assured that it would flourish. And it did. From there, we added three more from the same private donor (which should have been our first clue). And those, too, took root.

Our call for extra plants remained in the wild, and people continued to respond to our new needs.

The grandfather-in-law raided his hosta reserves for us on a recent visit to his homestead in southern Minnesota.

And just the other day we came home to a mound of fresh hostas resting neatly near our back door. We're not even sure where those came from, and nobody has come forth to claim delivery of the bounty.

Now we're swimming in hostas. By next summer, we may have to split some up and give them to others.