The studio had just gotten a new paint job. That little leafless shrub between the window and door was a young trumpet vine. It was supposed to have bright yellow blooms and I thought it would look charming if I painted the door the same yellow to match what I envisioned as a beautiful flowering vine that would cling to the walls of the studio and add quaint character to my building.
A couple years later the sun had destroyed the paint on the studio and it needed to be repainted. This time I toned down the John Deere Green and matched the color to the more sagey green of our house. The yellow door became plum red. Changing the yellow didn't matter since my trumpet vine had refused to ever bloom and I no longer clung to the idealistic picture of my vine covered studio with yellow blooms matching my yellow door.
I kept wrestling with the vine, trying to train it to grow against the siding of the building by tying and tacking it but it wanted to grow out, wild and untamed and not the least bit picturesque or charming. I had to continually hack at it with blades to control it and I thought that was probably why it never bloomed, I was cutting back the blooming branches.It seems like that vine has been on my studio for many years but according to the dates on my photos it is probably only four or five years old. But in one season of my resignation and neglect, the vine has covered my studio.
And I've learned a few things. (I like when that happens.) This trumpet vine is simply not satisfied with three quarters of a day of sun. It wants a constant, full day of sun. The studio is facing east and by late afternoon the vine is in the shadow of the building so it has always been reaching-- reaching for the sun. Reaching over the roof top and reaching out wild and untamed. Since I have been in my kitchen baking and not in my studio potting this year, the vine has grown unpruned and unfettered and unhindered.And lo....
...it bloomed.The vines that reach out of the shadow into the all-day sun have flowers on the end.
But if I'm ever going to be able to get into the studio again to make pottery, I'll have to hack my way in with pruning shears.