Why is it that often an insignificant event from long ago remains a vivid part of our memory? Such was the time that I used a small John Deere diesel to yank out an old weigelia bush that my grandmother had planted.

That tractor lived with me from 1967 to 1991 and that bush was one of its earliest acts. I plainly remember this scraggily bush planted in back of the springhouse and flanked by the gas tank on one side and the diesel fuel tank on the other side.

Perhaps I was seized by the urge to destroy something and start over. That is an all too common desire in the garden. Often we would be better off if we thought about it a bit more before we engaged our start over gear.

More likely the bush was old, beyond rejuvenation and just plain ugly. It was the only one of my grandmother's gardening efforts that I never liked. It was so bad that I vowed then to never plant another weigelia.

One of my favorite gardening truisms is that you don't know how to grow a plant until your know how to kill it. I guess a good corollary to that rule is how can you be sure you don't like something if you haven't planted it.

Anyway, about three years ago three different weigelias returned to my garden. In the many years since the destruction, the plant breeders and selectors claimed that this shrub was greatly improved. To paraphrase the words they used, they were smaller and tidier than the weigelias of yesteryear.

I planted them in a spot where I see them every day. Several days ago I paused in amazement to admire the multitude of flowers on one of them. Weigelias are supposed to yield a heavy spring bloom and then flowers sporadically throughout the rest of the summer.

The variety in question was one called French Lace. It has very red flowers and green foliage with bright yellow leaf margins. To me that sounds awful on paper but in reality it was one of my most breath taking sights of the summer. I confess that I have lots of them.

The most widely planted weigelia is a dark red foliaged one called Wine and Roses. This year it was joined by a much smaller version called Summer Wine. The latter is supposed to stay under two feet. There has got to be a spot for that one in my garden, too.

Most of today's weigelias are listed for heights of under five feet, quite a bit shorter than those of years ago. They will thrive in most soils if they get plenty of sunlight.

The literature also suggests that you remove dead tips in the spring and prune to tidy up their appearance. True to form, and in all honesty, I have yet to touch the three I have planted. That suggests that despite being in a very cold and windy spot I have had little or no tip dieback. Also, the plant's habit in the first three years has not needed the shears.

I lost grandmother and her wealth of gardening experience at least ten years before I destroyed her weigelia. I trust I will be forgiven. I will always benefit from her influence and am glad that I have rediscovered weigelias.