Great Journey 🏍 Day 308
Back then, when I still had a garden and a house, I really wanted an oleander. Preferably a white one. For reasons of money and space, I bought a small one. It would grow all by itself.
I nurtured it, doused it with warm water (I had been told), put it in the Brandenburg sun and in winter I protected it from the Brandenburg-Siberian cold in the cellar. And from year to year it grew a few tiny centimetres. And some years it even blossomed a little.
And here? The oleander bushes stand like weeds at the roadside, one more beautiful than the other. No one cares for them here, no one has to bring in the heavy pots in winter, and whether they are regularly watered at the roadside I doubt. It is simply a pleasure, every single shrub delights my former assistant gardener heart.