A year earlier we moved to a property with an established perennial garden. We waited all summer to see if this vine would ever flower. Once the buds appeared, they seemed in no hurry to reveal their true identity. At last the first few flowers popped open. I sat reaching forward with my brush without taking stretching breaks and trying to hold an umbrella stand in place with my foot fighting a gusty wind. The umbrella was to shade my painting and head. I suffered a mild but painful painting injury as a result of this contorted stubbornness.