September 8, 2002 ~ Morning Glories
Sunday.
Morgan had sat down at his computer first thing this morning, as he always does, but, before he could slip away, I had his sandals shoved on his feet, and I was pulling him toward the door.
"Wha...? Hey! Melissa, what are you doing? Let go of me! I don't want to go outside. Where are you taking me? Stop!"
I put a finger over his lips. "You have to see this." I led him down the hill behind the house and across the field.
"My feet are getting wet," he grumbled. Where are you taking me?"
"Somewhere I come often."
I stopped at the ditch that runs between our back field and the neighbor's huge garden. Morgan looked down and said, "The morning glories!"
I had told him about the morning glories. I had begged him to come see them. I had even picked a few and brought them back to the house to show him, but a few morning glories in a vase wilt quickly, and do little to show what I find so beautiful about them.
Morgan was quiet for a moment, looking at them. The ditch is filled to the brim with morning glory vines, a sea of dark green heart-shaped leaves with the delicate flowers sprinkled through out. The vines creep out at the edges of the ditch, into the grass, up the bird-house posts, over the old rusted barrels, over bushes and trees, delicate flowers in every shade of blue, white, purple, pink, and fuchsia. We walked slowly along the ditch, pointing out the many varieties to each other. Morgan was impressed.
"Why don't people plant morning glories on purpose?" Morgan asked. "Why are they not in gardens and growing up fences and on trellises?"
"I saw them grown on purpose all the time in Oregon. My grandmother had an entire wall of them in the entry area to her apartment. I used to see them everywhere. I rarely see them here, though. I don't know why."
"They're beautiful."
"Yes. I love morning glories." I love the way they curl up at night and open for the sun. I love how delicate they are, yet they will take over an area, making rusty old barrels beautiful, bringing an elegant splash of color to a ditch. I love them for memories of visiting Grandma. I love them for their heart shaped leaves. I love them for their tenacity, how they will always grow back even if you pull them all out.
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