If you have read me for any amount of time, you know that I cannot grow things in the dirt to save my life. Everything I plant dies. This is partially my own fault, and partially the fault of the clay- and rock-laden fill that the original developer used to create lawns when they built our house. This year I found five of these leafy plants and arranged them in a shady spot near our foundation. They’re astonishing—they’ve quadrupled in size even with the drought, and even I can’t seem to kill them. I noticed them in the city sidewalk planters when I was downtown earlier this week, so they must be known for zombie-like tenacity. So even though I can’t take credit for them thriving, they fill me with pleasure. I’ve been photographing them since they went into the ground.