Every year you arrive when I am not looking, tightly rolled leaves pushing up through the self seeded violets. When I see you I know that summer is on the way. You don't expect any special treatment and soon there are layer upon layer of lime green leaves with an ivory sashing displayed for my enjoyment. I am not sure what arrangement you have to come with the evil kingdom of slugs but you always pristine until the end of summer when you quietly fade away. Please don't think I take you for granted - you are the quiet counterpoint to the flashy acers and the flamboyant cistus. Hosta, I heart you.