As May ends, the clematis have begun to bloom. The dark purple blooms are on a vine that has twined around an old light post in front of the house each summer for at least nineteen years. It was here the first summer after I arrived, and has returned annually, though I’ve cut it to the ground each year. The lighter ones are from vines I thought had died in last year’s drought; this spring’s generous rains have revived them.
Bumblebees are busy in the fragrant angelica flowers. Yarrow and primroses sprawl messily along the sidewalk. The astilbe, liking the cool weather, is budding.
I’m grateful for these resilient flowers.
