Plants That Do Tricks

I love plants that can do tricks. I prefer those that come by their talent naturally & willingly to those tormented, grafted & twisted according to the will of people. (Exception:  espalier. Love me a great flat, wall hugger of a tree, but I detest topiary. I see green 'poodle-puff cuts' on a shrub & I want to scream 'Let my foliage FREE!')
Instead, I admire any one plant that produces several different colored flowers. Nasturtiums, for one. I also like Lantana's concentric ombré effect.
But my favorite 'cirque de foliage' trick is any GREEN flower. So refreshing & unexpected. In Annapolis I lived in the postage-stamp sized guest cottage of a narcissistic plastic surgeon who thought he was Georgio Armani, but more closely resembled Spaulding Gray. From the sleeping loft (up a ladder, 2 twin mattresses in a hirsute railed adult 'crib' arrangement), you could peer through the rail to see what was directly beneath you, cooking on the stovetop. Did I mention it was small?

This one really does tricks--from innocuous green bud to spectacular pink orchid!

It had 3 'pro's:' 1.  A huge skylight directly over the bed, through which was a wonderful view of treetops.  Raccoon families would regularly take time out from garbage can raids to look in on my slumbers. 2. My first experience with Jalousie windows which acted as a funnel for sound. I always

The mostly finished porch!

 

left the windows cranked mostly open, & since I was situated uphill from the little neighborhood dockside beach bar, I was lulled to sleep by the soft metallic clang of sailboat riggings & strains of my first experience with reggae--UB40.
But the third & most wonderful thing about this unassuming, glorified garden shed was the 2 disproportionately long window boxes that, when combined spanned the whole exterior wall by the door. Mind you, there was no window above them, only rough dark brown wood siding, but in my eyes the empty boxes had such potential.
Maryland had wonderful nurseries full of lush plants & I had spent many weekends wandering their gravel  paths, dreaming of gorgeous massed plantings for which I would never have space or landlord permission. Now I had a place for a bit of what I'd been longing for, so I went to 6 different nurseries, drew various schematics, priced plants...became completely overwhelmed with choices, & went home & planted seeds. I planted bells of Ireland.
Within a remarkably short time, their gorgeously healthy green  spires were tall enough to touch the eaves & the flower boxes were so full it looked like the cottage was off-balance & in danger of rolling over.
So I added trailing purple lobelia to the front edge.
I loved the wave of cool colors that hit me when I came home after I commuted through the infuriating sea of duh traffic, having spent my day doing a type-A job For which I was completely unequipped. I'd unlatch the pixie-height wooden gate & step down into my tiny Eden. I'd grab an iced tea & my book & flop into the single, basic outdoor chair to read until it was too dark to make out the words on the page. It was only my second adult home, & those ethereal green spires made it mine.
Fast forward a couple of decades & the same things affect me the same way, but I 'go much bigger' (& stay home) now. I'm just completing (for now--I have a deeply held belief that when we cease to tweak, we die) my second total redo of my front porch since I bought my little house in May, 2008. Unexpected furniture paint & upholstery colors, a freshly painted tiffany blue beamed ceiling & dusky, dark aubergine fascia & trim against the sandy, buttery wall color make a happy backdrop for all the orchids, whether blooming or not.
But the big joy this morning was this green Dendrobium beauty, blooming over the blue rail & greeting my across the street neighbors. Lucky them.  LUCKY me.