Everywhere I go, I see the pale, pinched faces of depressed people. The garden looks pretty depressed, too. Whenever it stops raining for about five minutes, I dash outside and snip off a dead head or pull out a weed. I avoid the patch at the bottom where standing water created a temporary pond for a couple of days. The deer have been in again and between them and the slugs it's a wonder I've a plant left in the garden. But the hydrangeas have never looked better.