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Each spring, I buy a Zebrina Wandering Jew for my front porch. It's the same variety I've bought every year. Native to southern Mexico, I can't really describe why I love this plant, but I do. There is only one greenhouse in the vicinity that carries this species, and each year it's a gamble if I'll find one, or if I'm lucky, two.



Maybe I love this plant because it's effortless to be its master. Perfect in the sun and wind, it requires semi-regular watering and that's it. But maybe, I love this plant because of what it means to something, someone else:



I've noticed some activity recently on the front porch of the two-winged variety and sure enough, the Dad pointed out a tidy little nest perched within the center of my plant. We've had bird nests before; Robins build one each year in the same spot under the deck. One summer, I had a Million Bells plant on the porch and birds infiltrated that, and I felt too bad to water it, and it died. The birds, however, hatched, thrived, and flew away. I think I made the right choice.

But this time it's different. I know the Wandering Jew will survive just as its avian tenants will ... all that living, right on my front porch.

I heart life.