Way back in the dead of Winter, I took heart that a delicate, thread-stemmed sedum was not just getting through the Winter, but actually seeming to enjoy it. It wasn't just surviving, it was thriving. And I'm hear to report that, come warmer weather, it's not just thriving, it's shouting. Tap dancing. Whatever it is that happy plants "do" as they grow grow grow.
The painfully-thin stems (so I thought; it, clearly, was just fine about them) are now thickly re-clothed in foliage. And they lengthen by the day.

And because that's not enough—when is mere happy existence enough?—a piece that got broken off and fell to the ground has made lemonade out of lemons:
It's rooted right in, and is intending, I'd think, to carry on the march right across the bluestone into the comparatively limitless bed on the other side. Only winter wet and shade can stop this sedum.

It "only" creeps along, cascading when it must and rooting-in when it can. It may be prostrate, but it sets a high bar for life achievement. My progress, my triumphs over the inevitable (if only occasional) "whoops" moments? Just catch-up.