Many years ago I received a basket containing several small holiday plants — a tiny poinsettia, a sprig of holly, a white azalea, some greenery. After the holidays, I planted them all in my Bay Area garden.  The holly sprig survived and grew into a small bush.

After  few years, I cut it back, dug it up, put it into a burlap bag, brought to 1880, and planted it in front.  For several years, it pouted.  Then it decided, as I did, that here is good.    Now, fifteen Decembers later, it got it its first lights and ornaments.  Indeed, here is good.