Now that my blue-flowered deinanthe is in bloom, I can relax on being cool or not. I am, and that's that. I can enjoy The World Of The Cool with a more casual knowingness.
I can wear my status with ease but also lack of fear. I know what a deinanthe is now; it's a friend, a companion that can be greeted with confidence and affection.
And so now that I can recognize deinanthe (and not just in the sense of identifying—yes, this is a deinanthe—but also in the sense of acknowledging, of giving respectable welcome into the world of the good and the quality and the hopeful—this is one of the wonders of the plant world, that now I have brought to happy reality in my very own garden) I can greet this gorgeous clump of its white cousin, Deinanthe bifida, with calm accuracy. And the knowledge that, Garden Gods willing, my own juvenile clump of it will also flower—oh yes, will flower, without question—in due time.
Yes, bugs may descend, unspeakable heat or cold may roll in, money may run out, fashionability may slide past. But since I've managed to nurture a blue deinanthe from starter plant to blooming maturity, I can probably nurture a white deinanthe to blooming maturity too. We all take calmness and certainty and security—delusional or not—where we may.
In advance of visiting my own fabulous white deinanthe, in bloom of course, in, say 2013, you can check this one out at Chanticleer, the peerless (and bottomless) estate gardens outside PHilladelphia. So worth the trip, and from anywhere.