This is the hibiscus that grows next to my deck. There’s quite a story behind it. When my great-grandmother, Rose Osborne, passed away, some seeds were found in an envelope in her bible. No one knew what they were or where they came from. So my great-uncle Bill planted them in his garden.Uncle Bill and Aunt Erma had a small city backyard, yet Uncle Bill kept it meticulously groomed. He grew tomatoes and roses and other plants and even had a putting cup in the center of the yard. The seeds grew into a beautiful hibiscus plant. Uncle Bill nurtured it for years and then dug a portion up and gave it to my father, who grew it on the side of his garage, where the plants grow to be six feet high each year. When we moved here and I tried in my lame way to do some landscaping, my father dug a portion up and gave it to me. Every year I think it’s done for and every year it comes back. It fools me because nothing much happens with it until late June or July when it finally begins coming up again. Every August, I have beautiful flowers, which remind me of Rose, the great-grandmother I never met.