The peony has produced no less than 4 blooms this year, after sulking for several years then having buds that blackened and shrivelled without opening. 4 blooms isn't much, especially in this area where huge and lovely peonies abound, but somehow I feel that hope has triumphed over dry impoverished soil, a million snails, a universe of ants, and a very slack gardener.
The clematis has been on Death Row since last summer, when it produced only a few of the tiniest, puniest flowers about 4 feet off the ground; it only survived because I forgot to dig it out in time and it promptly mustered a few tragic little leaves to make me feel like a plant murderess. As it is quite ancient, it has been given a Governor's Pardon for making more of an effort this summer.
And Hurrah for me too, for managing to take two photos of things in my front garden without snapping several snails in the process.
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