There’s a persistent little weed in my garden. It looks like a grass but has stems that are so weak they fall over. It’s one shining attribute is a tiny, two-lobed blue flower that appears every morning before disappearing around noon. It’s Dayflower (commelina communis). Usually, I dig it up without a second thought, although after I start digging, I do have second thoughts, mostly unkind, because it has tenacious, tubular roots and it’s hard to get it up.

For some reason, this year I felt charitable and let it alone to grow in the western corner of the little garden that borders the front porch. It has clumped up nicely, climbing over itself to get to the sun. A fine ground cover, actually. And every morning there is a plethora of tiny blue flowers with yellow stamens telling me, thanks.  Given that it is usually classed as an invasive species I’ll keep a close eye on it and try to keep it under control. I’m still digging it out when I find it in other patches of ground around the house.

In the meantime, I have those fine blue flowers that are mostly for me because company, when it comes usually comes in the afternoon or evening, and the little blue flowers have closed up shop by then. That’s one of the fine things about living in a garden. It’s alive and you can watch it all day, your very own movie. The other day as I stood outside a hummingbird came up to feed on the coral sage a few feet away from where I was standing. We were just two creatures occupying our space one feeding its body with nectar and pollen, the other feeding its soul with the wind in the trees and colorful blooms all around.

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