My favorite geranium plant was given to my by my granny. Velvety soft and delicately pink. The spicy scent reminding me of my grandma's patio as a little girl. I had it for so long, it grew hearty. Then after moving to a new town, it became unhappy. Slowly thinning out. Finally, it was just a mere outline of a plant and weeds overtook it. Quite a few months later, on the other side of my walkway I noticed a piece of the plant I had thrown into the shrubbery. A new vibrant scarlet red bloom reaching through the ground cover. Growing from it's old dead branch. A hanger on determined not to give up. Growing back more bright and alive than ever.