This is a dramatic tale. It has all the elements of a good story. Dreams. Aspirations. Tragic sickness. Insurmountable obstacles. Dastardly villains. And ... one can hope ...
glory in the morning.
It all started with this book
Sunflower Houses is a delightful book about gardening with children. In addition to many other gardening pleasures, Sharon Lovejoy shares the joy her mother gave her in growing summertime sunflower houses. Sunflower houses! Her mother planted sunflowers in a large square, and when the flowers were tall enough, tied them together to form a roof. She'd also plant morning glories along with the sunflowers, so they would wind their way up, lovely blue to offset the sunflower yellow.
We did try this once. When the sunflowers got about 6 feet tall, I just couldn't water them enough to keep them from drooping. I already had a soft spot in my heart for sunflowers ... they're so very happy ...
but those lovely morning glories stole my heart right away.
When we built our house with a Texas-size front porch ...
I was struck with a grand idea that first summer ...
morning glories! planted all the way down the porch!
It would be lush and magical.
I soaked my seeds. I planted them. I strung fishing wire around which the flowers would twine. I watched the miracle of tender shoots pushing their way into the world. I watered daily. And the vines began to climb.
And also the temperatures.
Which wasn't really a problem for the morning glories. But our dogs ... well, they were hot. And that damp soil proved to be irresistible. In the heat of the summer, while I was laying stricken on the couch with some strange summer malady and had not the strength to fight, the dogs were busy digging up my morning glories so they could stretch out in the cool mud.
I was angry. I was chagrined. But I was not beaten.
One lovely, brave morning glory vine survived the carnage.
And it thrived. And reached the top of the porch. And wound back upon itself.
And produced massive royal purple flowers that were ...
The dogs and I arrived at a a truce ... this vine, they left alone.
All was right with the word.
And then we got Sioux.
Sioux and the morning glories co-existed for a long time. She didn't seem to notice them. She had so much other green stuff to keep her busy, I naively thought my morning glories were safe.
The very day I noted with much satisfaction and great joy that my sole morning glory vine was looking particularly luscious and healthy, she struck.
I declared defeat.
For a little while, I took my leave of the gardening world and determined to take what scant satisfaction I could muster from pretending the fake flowers on the front porch were real.
But you know what they say ... hope springs eternal, especially in the spring.
This time, my aspirations weren't so grand. Just a 2x2 square at the end of the porch.
I got my potting soil.
and my seeds ...
I soaked the seeds in warm water overnight so they would sprout ...
and I planted them in my 2x2 square.
It's all I asked.
It was apparently too much.
Guilty ... guilty ... guilty.
This was WAR.
I planted more seeds, I called in reinforcement,
and went for the bailing wire.
That's right. Fear me and my awesome bailing wire skills!
And the seeds, they grew!
And the vines, they twirled!
And the horse, she chomped!
But although my new best friend, Sevin, claims only to be a pest repellent of the insectivorous kind,
it apparently works on genus Equs as well, because after munching just one sunflower button and a couple leaves, the voracious Miss Sioux has left my beauties alone!
Now ... if I can just coax those morning glories out ... I will tell them ... a fence is in their future!