I didn’t know what I was watering.

Whatever had grown in this terra cotta pot had long ago died. But after a rain, a little broad-leafed plant poked up from the soil still inside the pot. So next time it dried out, I poured some water on it.

The plant grew. The leaves were not lovely—rather rough-textured and unsymmetrical--and there was no sign of flowers. But I watered it from spring to summer, through all of this heat. A little because of tender-heartedness. But mostly because of curiosity. And then, when nothing bloomed week after week, I watered it out of habit.

Yesterday as I rinsed dishes in my house that as of today will no longer be my house, I looked from the window, and there below under the pyracantha, emerging from among the mystery leaves, was a pale flower.

I walked outside and looked closely. The flower was composed of a cluster of tiny white blooms with yellow centers--a pretty lantana.