My favorite annual is the Lulu Marigold (Tagetes tenuifolia)
When petunias are leggy (or eaten by the deer),
pansies are wilted (or eaten by the deer),
these Lulus carry on.
They have the smell of a marigold,
but the look of lace and ferns.
They are the last bit of color in the fall,
surviving light frosts.
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A journey is a person in itself; no two are alike. And all plans, safeguards, policing and coercion are fruitless. We find after years of struggle that we do not take a trip; a trip takes us. Tour masters, schedules, reservation, brass-bound and inevitable, dash themselves to wreckage on the personality of the trip.
Only when this is recognized can the blown-in-the-glass bum relax and go along with it. Only then do the frustrations fall away. In this a journey is like a marriage. The certain way to be wrong is to think you control it. (p. 4)