I shouldn't discriminate. It's not even based on anything sound. They're just everywhere. Like they somehow demand a right to be there. In every suburb, every home. Bloody Agapanthus. They don't even come in a singular version, there is no word for a singular Agapanthus. Just like Tim Tams, you can't stop at one. I should like them because at the moment they are the only thing thriving in our very dry garden, and that's without any attention from me. As chief provider of water to screaming thirsty plants, I admit to skipping the Agapanthus in favour of the geraniums. It's wrong I know, favouring one child over another but they are overly represented across the State's stone walls and driveways. Google tells me they're of Greek origin (blue and white, the flag, of course...) and perhaps they consider our piddly Tasmanian 29 degrees not even warm compared to a blistering Rhodes summer and so wave their long arms in defiance. I should be grateful that such a robust plant can survive the lack of water. Considering their other name is Lily of the Nile, and given we're sufficiently short on Nile, it's more like Lily of the dry brown paddock really. Perhaps they are just misunderstood. Still won't water them.
