Dr. Waring, a professor I had in English literature in college, once said he thought the transmission of knowledge from one generation to the next was the most important organizing metaphor for a life properly lived. I have no memory of what this was in reference to-nor do I know why I do have a strong enough memory of him having said this such that I still remember it 38 years later. For my 25th birthday, my Mom took me to the National Peony Show at the Kingwood Center in Mansfield, Ohio. My strongest memory of that trip were how many people-probably then the age I am now-were so pleased that a person as young as myself was interested in peonies. At my age, I sometimes worry that not enough young people will become interested and active gardeners; what a shame if the beautiful peonies bred over the last 100 years were to no longer be grown. This is very similar to the numbers of gardeners who are interested in preserving heirloom varieties of tomatoes, or antique roses, or heirloom apples. It is a very natural and right thing to transmit the knowledge of the plants, and how they are grown, to the next generation.
I will be the first to admit that I see very few young people interested in what I do and cherish. I don’t pretend to understand what they are interested in, although I do remember being a completely self absorbed pain to my Mom, when I was that young. Nonetheless, she managed to get me interested in plants at a very early age-before I got to that “age of attitude”. I had my own private garden at 6, which I kept-and she stayed out of-until I got to be 16, and sociable; gardening is a fairly solitary pursuit. No more garden for me until I was out of college. When I got to be an older young person, something clicked in. I became obsessed with growing tall bearded iris and peonies. So every young person I meet, I try encourage them to make something grow-you never know when that might surface in them, long after your effort.
I know I posted however many days ago, that I was planting my pots purple and orange. Sounds hideous, doesn’t it? I was cringing as much as I was looking forward to it. I got the first sonic orange New Guinea impatiens in the ground, and thought I would throw up. Someone years ago told me orange was the color of hysteria-and I was starting to believe it. Could I come home and be charmed by hysteria generated by my own hand?
Texture is such an exciting element in plants-and plantings. Defined by Wikipedia as “an identifying quality”, or the “appearance and feel of a surface”, the texture of a plant can be about its appearance. Some plants are shiny leaved; some have felted leaves. Some leaves and flowers are thin (sometimes referred to as “substance”) and some are thick and juicy looking. Some leaves are wisy and airy looking-others are big and broad-and look as though even a big wind wouldn’t disturb them. This kale is ultra-crinkled-beautiful.
Texture can also refer to how a plant feels to the touch-who could resist touching this scotch moss? Contrasting textures can make for a lot of excitement in a planting-but even the relationship of one small texture to another can be interesting. 
Some plantings where all the textures read similarly encourage focus on color, or mass. The choice of plants very much dictates what about a plant or planting becomes the dominant element. This box of grass, euphorbia Diamond Frost, thyme and sedum has that casual roadside weed look to it. You notice the blue of the sedum first off, as the textures of all the plants are so similar. There is a whole story here about little leaves. 
Malabar spinach has thick, substantial leaves that are glossy and wrinkled. This texture reads all the more strongly for its pairing with the diminuitive felted stems and leaves of lime licorice. 
The hunky, toothy, slighting menacing leaves of this cardoon are softened by the much less architectural “Dallas Blues” panicum grass-and the so sweet blue petunias. The cardoon has a felted leaf-the panic grass is smooth and shiny. Those blue petunias are along for the ride-and soften much the architecture of the cardoon-and the pot.
Large flowers like zinnias and petunias have a simple texture, while its companion grass has a complex, texture-like fireworks. Diametrically opposed to this delicately textured grass, caladiums and this lime dieffenbachia have leaves so thin and so wide the sun shines through them; it looks like the lights are on in this very shady spot. Identifying what about a particular plant you like will help a lot to inform your design with them. Everyone knows texture. Its the process of being conscious of it that can help make for inspired plantings .