I walk by the seed displays and really, I do try to exercise a little self control, but those darn lupins get me every time.

    I am so very gullible.

    So year after year after year I come home clutching my little packet with the pretty picture of the exotic coloured lupin spikes and go through the same routine--scarify the seeds by shaking them in a jar with some sand, then put them between a moistened paper towel inside a plastic baggie.

    As each tough little pod cracks open and the tiny plant begins to peek out, I race out to my lupin bed on the other side of the pond and plant it in amongst the others.

    I tell myself that THIS will be the year, that what I'm planting now will surprise me next spring with a rainbow of colours instead of the purple freakin' lupins I get year after year. The packet promises me a rainbow and what do I end up with? Barney wannabe lupins. Year after year after year …

    Me?

    Bitter?

    Well maybe a little, at least until today, eh.

    Look closely at that sea of purple lupins--can you see the one that's not like the others, the unexpected present from last year's planting?

    Can you see the Waldo of my lupin world?

    Ta DAH. The picture really doesn't capture the colour. It's a wonderful salmon pink with bits of yellow. When I saw it I immediately wanted to form a conga line in celebration. Sadly, one person and two cats do not a conga line make.

    It's times like that when you really regret not going for the pet orangutan, know what I mean? I'm betting your basic pet orangutan could do a mean conga.

    Hmmmmm, maybe next year.