Leapin’ Lupine!

Spring has sprung
The grass has riz
I wonder where
The birdies is?

My favorite kind of plants in the foothills are the ones that take care of themselves. I don’t have to worry about covering them when it’s going to freeze, and I don’t have to water them during a heat spell. They’re kind of like rats; survivors regardless of circumstance.

This bush lupine is one I have trimmed every year in order to keep it off the ground high enough so that when the inevitable wildfire comes roaring through it may avoid catching fire. I’ve given the same care to some others, one of which is at least twice the height of a horse (one-and-a-half times the length of a horse; six times the length of the biggest rattlesnake we’ve seen in three decades; forty-seven times the…). Many of the other plants are a dime a dozen; there’s so much yerba santa and horehound they don’t merit care. If an acre or so of them perishes, so what. They’ll be back.

But bush lupines are so special they deserve to get huge.