Late bloomer


“That’s the toughest place to try to grow something,” the garden store owner said. I’d just described the conditions beside an arbor—mostly dry shade, then blazing afternoon sun. “I don’t know if this will work, but you can try.”

I returned with a tiny white clematis vine whose scent bewitched me whenever I’d encountered it in the wild. I planted it, but for many years, it barely grew.

Last August I was preparing to release my first album. Mind obliterated and exhausted, I suddenly noticed that the clematis had reached the top of the arbor and crowned it with flowers.

Late bloomers, both of us.

Angela Winter