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Morning glories make me wax poetic – something about the cheery countenances, the uplifting cornflower hue, the feeling they create that they’re smiling – how could I not be charmed by them?
I’ve noticed that they’ve changed with the transition of seasons, too: the big, showy flowers of summer have become smaller – but plucky – last hurrahs. I know that one day soon, they’ll be gone…not to return until summer. How I’ll miss them.
There seem to be morning glories everywhere I look: on fences, climbing up rock faces, intertwined with other greenery. They possess the kind of beauty that is both ordinary and extraordinary at the same time – if you didn’t take the time to look at the blooms and see that they’re all different, you might just dismiss them as blue vining weeds. You might not see that some contain small insects, others are dusted with pollen, and still others have been sprinkled with raindrops. Fortunately, you and I know to see what crosses our visual paths. I hope you soak in the beauty…and there are many more to yet to be discovered!
Inviting, yes…and uninvited. But no invitation is needed for this lovely greenery: morning glory vines just seem to appear along a rock retaining wall near our house, stunning with their early-morning cornflower radiance. A cheery flower, indeed, and a wise one, retiring (for the day) in the afternoon. That we should all keep such a schedule – an afternoon siesta might keep us similarly glorious!
And for the pedantic, I know rhyming haiku is somewhat frowned upon in poetry circles. I don’t care. The verse flowed, so I’m going with it. I am, after all, a rebel at heart.
It’s been a banner year for the elderflowers (sadly, the same can’t be said for some other flowers and plants, like the day lilies that fizzled out early, probably due to the dry conditions), and visions of a bumper crop of elderberries – and elderberry syrup and wine – dance in my head. If those visions become reality, I have pollinators like this tiny bee to thank. And I wholeheartedly do thank them!
In a reversed world, these diminutive flowers could be stars in a firmament. Today, though, they’re tears. Despite how it may look, this scene is about transformation: the fragrant fading flowers will become vibrant berries – capable of becoming new plants and nourishing animals. And I will eagerly await the change. Be well.
The daylilies, so bountiful this year, have been gone for a couple of weeks now – which is why I was so surprised to find these hidden gems. I was actually checking on the progress of ripening elderberries in the towering bush that covers much of the pile when the flash of color caught my eye. Few flowers are orange out here, so I moved some debris and found these. How they survived and bloomed with branches and clippings covering them is a puzzle, but they did…and now, beauty lives in the brush pile, too.