Morning Glory (Ipomoea spp.)They were jewels blooming in a long forgotten and untended hedgerow this morning when Cassie and I took our early walk down along the right-of-way that ends at the river. The blooms were vividly hued (almost incandescent), and they called out to us from their place in the long August shadows among the grapevines, the asters and the thistles.
"Look at us, look at us", they sang out as we passed by, "come and feast your eyes on us. We are colour, your favourite colour, your dearest, best loved and most longed for colour."
We never know what we will discover in hedgerows during our sunrise pottering. A hedgerow, any old hedgerow, particularly a wild unbridled hedgerow in the lush fullness of creative self-expression, tugs at our sensibilities like a magnet, like a kite on a string, like a tree full of dancing starlings, like a whole thicket full of little brown cottontails or a golden summer moon. . . .
"Look at us, look at us", they sang out as we passed by, "come and feast your eyes on us. We are colour, your favourite colour, your dearest, best loved and most longed for colour."
We never know what we will discover in hedgerows during our sunrise pottering. A hedgerow, any old hedgerow, particularly a wild unbridled hedgerow in the lush fullness of creative self-expression, tugs at our sensibilities like a magnet, like a kite on a string, like a tree full of dancing starlings, like a whole thicket full of little brown cottontails or a golden summer moon. . . .
2 comments:
so pretty. love the color too and those perfect heart shaped leaves.
Half a world away, but we too had a wonderful golden summer moon. But these glowing trumpets of blue aren't found in any English hedge. Wonderful.
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