White clover. I know that many people consider this a weed, but I'm fond of it. When I was growing up, my parents' four acres in Wisconsin were rife with this stuff, and I used to pick it and braid it into crowns and chains. There's a picture of me, maybe six years old, sitting in the middle of a massive field of white clover with my My Little Pony and picking a bouquet. This is the only white clover in my yard, and I spoil it rotten. If I could replace my lawn with this stuff, I would:
The first flower on the pink verbena, and a sculptural succulent I'm forgetting the name of:
White potato vine, far away and close-up. The flowers are subtle, and hang down like shooting stars:
Mexican feathergrass, backlit. It really takes the spotlight in the spring, so to speak:
A tiny little winter-hardy agave I bought on a whim from Lowe's last year:
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