When my boys were really young we drove down to San Diego one Sunday afternoon to take them to the zoo. But instead of the regular zoo, which they had been to when they were really too young to remember, we drove out to the San Diego Wild Animal Park, now called the San Diego Zoo Safari Park, where the animals appeared to roam in the wild. It was the perfect trip for young parents. But the surprise of the day was a sort of annex to the park. What seemed like miles of shade cloth tents housing a world class collection of fuchsias. If it seemed like miles, it seemed like millions of different flowers all being carefully misted to fight off the heat, and each of them meticulously labeled.

The San Diego Zoo has this to say:

Today, there are about 110 species of Fuchsia, which are mainly native to South America, with a few from Mexico and Central America and some from New Zealand and Tahiti. Some are tropical species, while others prefer a cool, mild climate. Some are considered hardy enough to live in cold climates, where they die back during the winter and produce new growth in the spring. The immense popularity of these plants has led to extensive hybridization, resulting in thousands of varieties of cultivated fuchsias.

I have only the slightest memory of the animals, but I remember a bewildering array of beautifully colored fuchsias. More fuchsias than I could see in a single day. Certainly more than could be seen with two active boys and a wife. These memories come back to me each afternoon as I open the door to start my walk. A large display of madly blooming fuchsias hang from the staircase immediately in front of me. My neighbor has put together a collection from various nursery throwaway piles and yard sales, and nursed them into magnificence. They seem to love everything he has done for them. They bloom without restraint. I don’t really deserve this display, but there it is. I feel blessed every time I open the door.