In message , Sacha
writes

That's its charm, IMO. There's a wall on the way into Ashburton which
is absolutely smothered with it and then there's an abrupt halt to it,
as if someone had drawn a 'thou shalt not go there' border. An Italian
used to carry seeds of it in his pocket. He had a fabulous garden and
when asked his favourite plant, that was it. So when he visited
others' gardens, he'd take a few seeds from his pocket, mix them with a
little soil and poke this into a crevice here and there. Many gardens
benefited from his devotion! ;-)


Ah, shades of Miss Wilmot's Ghost.

--
Robert