Mom decided to take advantage of my digging skills, and together we planted some seeds under the arch. Usually we just hang bird feeders from the arch, but now we think it's time to grow some vines there. We mixed morning glory seeds with moonflowers. The morning glories are supposed to bloom early in the day, then the moonflowers bloom in the evening. This should give the hummingbirds something to hum about all day long.
Then we found out that Dad absolutely, with a pea-purple passion, hates morning glories. Well, I don't know what a morning glory ever did to him personally, but he can't abide them at all. He said he spent too many hours as a boy on the farm, weeding those stinkin' morning glories from the crops. Turn around and they were right back in the field, choking out the peanuts and corn and making a mess of things. He said it's hard to kill a morning glory vine, and left alone it will take over a field in no time.
We found this out through a lively discussion with friends, and most of the people in the room felt the same way. Oh, was Mom ever squirming in her seat! She didn't want him to know that she'd planted a whole bunch of them buggers right in the middle of the circle drive.
But nothing happened. Day after day, we checked and found nothing growing under the archway. Whew! What a relief. Mom never had much of a green thumb anyway, so no surprise there. Until this week, then a tiny, spindly green vine sprouted up overnight and entwined itself up the side. We didn't even notice it until it bloomed.
It doesn't look like either a morning glory, or a moonflower, so it's a mystery. It's a relief to see that it doesn't look as dastardly as we thought it would. This morning, Dad stopped and looked at it. We held our breath until he remarked about how pretty it was and asked what kind of flower this is?
Mom's pleading ignorance. I'm not telling, either.