"I want it placed (empty) in the middle of a field of weeds or grasses or wildflowers so it looks both intentional and surprising.
Do not let it retain a place of prominence. Do not put any plant in it."
So, Lee . . . . this is for you.
First, sit with me on the patio and look out across the dry creekbed into the meadow. Do you see it there at the bend of the path?
Walk over the bridge and come with me down the path.
There it is, dark and unsettling in the deep shade of slightly ominous tall weeds.
Jim has mowed a winding labyrinth of paths throughout the meadow, and the weeds have reached a good five or six feet tall now. They hide anyone who braves the ticks and sleeping fawns out there to walk among the grasses.
As you come around one of the curves from the other direction, it startles.
With one short suggestion from a fellow blogger, I went from hating this pot, making fun of it, lamenting what to do with it, and regretting that I even owned it, to loving its dark, mysterious, weighty form out in the meadow.