Ill-deserved

I have been not caring for a Wisteria for ten years. In my defence, all the evidence suggests the previous owner - who was otherwise a good gardener - was not caring for it just as effectively. It is rooted beside the end gable of the house; there is no trellis or structure to support it, and I don't believe there ever has been. For a few years I hacked it back to the roots every winter, assuming it would die - an offer it refused. More recently, I have allowed a self-supporting upright stem to develop, not having any clear idea what my objective is

It produces a plethora of fast-growing shoots every year that insinuate themselves across the ground under the grass; into dark spaces between the wall and the boiler; under plant pots. It is a rogue, a chancer, sly organic quicksilver. Many local buildings are adorned at this time of year with carefully managed, lovingly pruned Wisteria, clearly generations old, creating a blue wall of flowers, tens of metres wide, in some cases, radiating permanence and contentment. Ours is as distant from that as could be imagined - not so much contentment as mutual distrust

With this background, imagine my surprise on noticing this today - the first and only time in ten summers: a single raceme of delicate purple and yellow flowers at eye level. A peace offering? An opening of negotiations? A rapprochement? An invitation? A modest proposal?

I will Google 'pergola'