Tororaro says the matador as I charge blindly, eyes red with plant lust, wiggy-wig-ing out in my mad dash to reach shrubby divinity. Alas I come out empty handed, bashing my head against the wall of a 6b climate. Years of this until, sufficiently bloodied, my captors judged me no longer fit for service and put me out to pasture here in the milder climates of Washington. Plodding into my well-earned elysium I dropped to my knees and wept at my long-sought-after arrival in what must surely be my long-dreamed of piece of New Zealand garden utopia. The airy presence of this incredibly unique shrub will buoy you up to the heavens as well, the delightfully heart shaped leaves will fill your ventricles with joy, and the deer and drought resistance will ensure you never have to work another day in your life. More time enjoying your new Aotearoan pals.
