“But they are WEEDS!” he spluttered, glancing down the street at the neighbors’ houses, afraid, I’m sure, that they would see that he had not done his job if he left them there. What if they recognized his truck?
“Not to me they’re not,” I told him. “They sell these where I grew up.”
He had a really hard time with that, but it was my house and my call and he reluctantly let it go. That oxalis patch–it’s never tried to spread, it has stayed in its own proper space for the 21 years we’ve lived here–was in full bloom and was part of what charmed me into wanting to buy this house. It stays.
There’s a fellow who runs Lanai, a tiny hole-in-the-wall flower shop on the main commercial drag, surrounded by a small but delightful oasis of trees and freely blooming oxalis amongst the concrete of El Camino. Someone else likes my cheerful yellow free-bloomers, I guess. There’s space for a display case, a counter, a chair for the guy, and a fridge in back. The owner is passionate about what he does, and he’ll tell you his roses cost more, but they’re local and they last far longer than the imported ones do. 
These are from my Valentine’s flowers. Thank you, Richard–I love it when people support the little guy who’s trying to make a difference.