the hydrangea that refused to go

the hydrangea at the front of our house is really doing it's thing at the moment. Every year, it seems to get better and better, and I must admit that it is one of the only plants in our garden that I prune properly, at the correct time, so it doesn't grow too leggy, and for maximum blooms. It seems to be working. I get a great feeling of anticipation when I see those little buds appear, and I love to watch them grow (so quickly) into the amazing purple and blue heads that they become. I'm not into mucking around with the pH to change the colours, I like to just let them do their own thing and even though they are quite pale and not at all what "proper gardeners" would consider good colours, I love them in all their pastel glory. I especially like it when they take on a bit more of a rusty hue, and go all purple and brown, very vintage looking. I have the utmost respect for the particular plant that these flowers are picked from, it being the hydrangea bush that refused to die. When we decided to build our front verandah a few years ago, we reluctantly had to lose a few azaleas, and half of the most wonderful nandina forest that I have ever seen, and the hydrangea was also marked for demolition. We got my late dad on the job, because if there was anyone who would persist until the job was done, it was him, and persist he did, for about half a day, before admitting defeat. It seems that this hydrangea was destined to stay, and as it turned out, it frames the front steps beautifully, and we are so grateful now that it was unable to be removed. And, of course, it always makes me think of him when I look at it.