I grew up in a house set in a huge garden maintained by an army of gardeners. Among the formal lawns, rose gardens and rock gardens, the solitary shrub of lantana was a weed. Quite definitely a weed.
The flowers were pretty, the berries were cute. I loved crushing the leaves, and catching the dragonflies that flocked to it. But I was taught not to appreciate it, because it was a weed, not a plant.
A couple of months back, nostalgia drove me to bring home three lantana plants. Who cares if it is a weed- even weeds are beautiful!
A drabble is a story told in exactly 100 words.