I’m a sucker for anything different.

I was setup from the start. When my eccentric mother invented the name Leesa with two e’s I had two choices: either embrace being different or go crazy spelling my name. I did both. “That’s Leesa with two e’s,” I’d tell the woman taking my Christmas order. “Where do the two e’s go?” she’d ask. “Right after the L and right next to each other,” I say, baffled by where else she might put those two e’s and shuddering at the thought of splitting them up.

I’m also a sucker for anything purple.

So, I’m a sucker for the American Beautyberry. Nothing slows weekend walkers faster than my four Beautyberry bushes loaded with deep purple sprays of berries. Yesterday a car pulled over and parked next to these bushes. The woman driver pointed to them, and her male passenger stared at them. After several minutes, I went out to make sure they weren’t lost.

Me: Are you lost?
She: No, we’re admiring that purple bush. It’s so different. What is that?
Me: Callicarpa?
She: Calla what? (Don’t you love Americans? It sounds exotic, so it throws them.)
Me: American Beautyberry.
She: Is that color natural, or did you spray-paint it?
Me: Shucks, I’m plum out of purple spray paint. So, that’s natural.
She: Where are they from?
Me: Asia
She: No, where can I buy one?
Me: Any nursery.

They draw bluebirds too. Flocks of them.

The first winter, after the first snowfall, they were covered with hungry bluebirds. Sublime sight: sun glistening on snow, blue feathers and purple berries flung everywhere.

Expect something you’d never expect: Bushes laden with purple berries in the garden of the vowel-heavy Leesa – that’s with two e’s. Got that?