Focus on the host portion of this hosta, and forget any similarity to hostility. Words are tricky that way. Deceitful little things. Unlike this beautiful hosta, whose enchantment is magnified in the second photo, thanks to the droplet-adorned accoutrement of falling rain. If it seems like I’m hanging fruitlessly onto a summer that long ago departed, it’s because that’s exactly what I’m doing. No shame in my Wilson Phillips game. Sing it Carnie!
