My mom gave me a small moonflower when I first starting gardening. I planted it – super afraid it would DIE.
But it didn’t.
Then, I moved and they moved with me. Another small plant was lovingly planted in hopes of continuing the moonflower legacy my mom had started.
And they did. Big bright white blooms on a warm summer night.
They smell of summer fun and lightning bugs.
When the moon is full, they reflect the moonlight from their upward stance.
They remind me of tradition, and majesty.
Their glorious blooms only last one night. Then, they point straight down and go to sleep forever.
When I moved the second time, my moonflowers did not go with me.
So many things, I left behind in that move.
Things that still tug my heart to this day, but I had to accept they were just “things”. I could live without them, because I had to. And so it was with my moonflowers.
A few months after I met Jason, I decided to plant his garden beds. His home offered beautiful stone trimmed beds that just begged for life and color.
I went to Calloway’s to shop. I pushed my cart through the aisles, glancing at each table for what I wanted, and that’s when I spotted it. It stood by itself on a large table. The leaf size, shape, and color were burned into my memory. I knew exactly what it was, even though it bore no name, or tag. It was just a stem and some leaves in a little quarter gallon pot.
Of course, I bought it. I knew it was meant for me.
I planted it. It grew. It bloomed. It was my moonflower – exactly like the ones from my past.
Since the year I put it in the ground, it has returned in the form of its offspring. The first year, they grew in the flower bed (good job!). But the next year (this one), they were a little more unruly.
I had about five plants come up in the YARD, not one in the flower bed.
Only one survived the mower long enough to be staked off as sacred and produce blooms.
I let it grow as big as it wanted. In the grass, and on a slope.
My one beautiful wild child bloomed all summer. I watched it from the dining room bay window. Proud, and perplexed at where it chose to live. This year it had more blooms than ever before.
She bloomed her last of the season two weeks ago. I grabbed my tripod, and my camera as soon as it was light outside. I set-up and captured these before the blooms closed for good.
I love the moon and I love flowers. Together, they are a magical blend of luminous luster. In a way, they are paired as partners in delicate harmony.
“The moon, like a flower
In heaven’s high bower,
With silent delight
Sits and smiles on the night.”William Blake quotes (English visionary Mystic, Poet, Painter and Engraver. 1757-1827)
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