Echinacea cures everything, from colds to cancer. Hmmpf. I doubt that. But Echinacea purpurea is a right pretty flower. Its other name is coneflower. That works, too.
A few years ago, I bought a few echinacea plants when a local nursery was having a perennial sale (something I rarely see anymore). I will never need to purchase any echinacea plants again, ever. That pretty flower, it turns out, is quite persistent. (Read: invasive.) Whatever plants I bought years ago have multiplied tenfold. I made the mistake of transplanting some into a sloped rock garden two years ago. Well, echinacea is just too tall to be part of a rock garden, so last summer, I yanked them all out. Guess what? They're back! With a vengeance, I might add.
But as I forgive the primrose, I will forgive the echinacea. (And will forgive the black-eyed Susans shortly.) How could I not? Just look at them! Here, look again:
Echinacea lines one border of my vegetable gardens. This is their third year. Perhaps you know the mantra: First year, they sleep. Second year, they creep. Third year, they leap. No doubt about it. Clearly, my echinacea is leaping.
Echinacea has it all: height, unique color, attitude (just look at those slumped shoulders), prestige, and health cred. And it has street cred, too: This Native American medicinal plant called echinacea is named for the
prickly scales in its large conical seed head, which resembles the
spines of an angry hedgehog (echinos is Greek for hedgehog). (University of Maryland). Everyone knows you never mess with an angry hedgehog.
(Hmmm . . now I wonder if this could be related to the fact that a groundhog has taken up residence nearby?)
But look! I am not the only one who admires the echinacea!
This butterfly fluttered around from plant to plant all afternoon. Clearly, he's a fan.
Or check this out:
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