From year to year, and day to day, entirely different. The wild, random nature is part of their nature. It is, perhaps, their charm. The flowers are each, individual, a statement of purpose, a testament to eons of change and evolution, ever sure of their path, blind though it may be. But towards what? That defined purpose simply explodes in a riotous, abandoned display of life by chance. Or not chance? Is that one glorious moment the whole point of the exercise?
I do wonder if that white gladiolus is surviving out in the big garden this year, rather than in the vegetable garden of last year….
Acair Fearann 
Surprises are wonderful like the sunflower seeds that sometimes survive around the bird feeder and mature into beautiful yellow flowered giants!