It has survived two previous moves - one from a shady location where it sat patiently, not growing, not doing anything. It put on green leaves for the summer and sat there. So I moved it into the sandbox beside the play house. (Ok - sometimes I have too many plants, don't know where to put them, and dare them to bring beauty to a desolate place). Well it put leaves on again in the spring after it's move, but started getting kind of spindly. Last fall I decided the sand box was too harsh, and besides, I needed room for raspberries. So out it came again and into another border location. Mostly shady but some dappled sunlight. Bleeding hearts beside it seeded out and went to town. But this poor struggling highbush cranberry is the picture of despair. I'm putting water on it today, but it may be to late.
Meanwhile its classmate (purchased at the same time) who was put into a more favorable location and never transplanted, has been growing happily and even put on a few berries.
I bought a few more shrubs last fall as well, to fill in the back fence border. Well. I apparently have been underestimating the amount of water the poplar steals from its neighborhood, and overestimating the resiliance of these new shrubs.
One has turned red far too early - it's a beautiful brilliant red flag signalling distress, I think. One other shrub, a vibernum, looks unhappy, but completely detached. No wilting despair or flashing red like the highbush cranberries - it just stands there with many bare branches. The leaves that are there look healthy and green, but the whole shrub looks, well, like its hanging on by a thread. No idea whether it'll last the winter. And it is not asking for help. I'm watering it anyway.
That's the story from the shrubbery. The part of the yard where Darlene assumes things will thrive, and leaves them alone for far too long.
Always translateable into my life.