morning glory

For lack of ambition and thought today, I decided to post one of my writings for all to read. I wrote this piece for my nature writing class that I'm taking this semester. It is accompanied by a picture taken by my boyfriend's mom :)

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Five wide, white petals join and open towards the sun. They resemble the horn of an old-fashioned Victrola. Creased petals guide eyes down into the center, where a brilliant splash of purple awaits. The morning sun breathes life into these simple, delicate flowers, which are appropriately named morning glories. Some consider them to be weeds which grow unwanted among their prized azaleas or rose bushes. Maybe they fear that the vines may strangle the other flowers. Morning glories can commonly be seen along roadsides and hiking trails, growing within thick mounds of ivy. During the afternoon, the broad horn of petals folds along the creases and closes, leaving the flower to appear asleep. Even in its dormant state, the flower delicately curls at the opening, awaiting the soft rays of the early morning sun. Once the morning glory answers the beckoning of the sun, it will unfold slowly as if waking up from a deep slumber and once again reach with its petals towards its source of life.

The colorful center of the flowers begins when the petals converge. It appears as if the purple rises deep and strong from the center and bursts forth, trying to color the very tips of the petals. The pristine white wins though, forcing the purple to fade from a deep shade to a magenta, and finally to a slight pink. The pattern of fading ends with a feathered effect, suggesting that a painter spread the color upwards with his paintbrush. The stigmas burst forth from their pool of purple and stand tall, awaiting pollination. Morning glories may seem like a menace to gardeners with their vines and seeming urge to dominate, yet they are simple and elegant. The way that they turn their faces towards the sun makes them appear graceful. Something about these flowers suggests beauty in simplicity, and reminds us that even nature needs its beauty sleep.

© Sarah Elizabeth Murray, 2008

Photography © Lisa Cain, 2008