Years ago at a garden show I bought a pink flowering plant, drawn in by the beautiful blousy blooms. It was a mallow plant. A great name, I thought and I pretty much left it to it, to hopefully grow in a sunny corner of the garden. And grow it did. And then it grew some more. Now it’s almost tree like, it’s long stems swaying gently in the breeze, festooned with blooms, a pink haze of loveliness that greets me every morning. I’m not it’s only admirer – bees love it too, and the hound dog.