Several years back I planted some walker’s low catmint. It did well. But since the southern garden on the back porch has a slope to it, the catmint migrated down hill. Natural thing to do. Now days it hangs down at the bottom trying to get over the edge and continue its journey to the back fence. It’s blooming now. Tiny lavender flowers. A little hummingbird visits every day to sip from each of the blooms.

It’s hard to imagine there’s enough nectar to make a meal, but this hummingbird is on the tiny end of the scale, so maybe it’s all relative. We used to hang feeders for the hummer’s but one day I decided maybe sugar water wasn’t the best thing for them and concentrated on plants they might like. Thus, the attention I shower on Turks Caps and Lantana. They’re spread around so there’s lots of room for everyone and it just feels more natural.

I like this catmint because it seems to be a survivor, which means it tolerates me forgetting to give it a drink or two during the summer. It just heaves a big sigh, drops its leaves, and waits. Plants with patience are good. It did well in the freeze, too. At the end it was sticks. They came rain and warm weather. Presto. It was back. I trimmed the deadwood, and we were in business. I guess a plant like that gives me hope that no matter how bad today might seem, with a little water and sun I can find my way back. Which is why I look forward to our Memorial Day camping trip to the clear waters of the Nueces River.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale