The most satisfying thing about gardening is finally getting something to bloom after trying and trying and trying again.
Inevitably, it seems, the failures are what stick with you. With me, anyway.
You may have the best roses in town, but you don’t see them because you’re down on your hands and knees trying to find the blankety-blank Limerock Ruby Coreopsis, for which you spent way too much money.
So, it is with great pride that I tell you how the moonflower vine I started from seed two years ago is finally blooming.
Its Latin name is lpomoea alba. It is often the centrepiece of the white night-blooming gardens that you read about in gardening magazines. Every article tells you that the intoxicating scent of the 10-20 foot vine is its best feature.
The first year I got a few seedlings going, gave a couple away to my friend Mike and promptly watched mine all croak.
Mike got his going up his old TV aerial and gave me a seedling this spring. I planted it right outside the front door, where it proceeded to devour the porch. I spent one Saturday afternoon on a ladder, trying not to destroy the hosta while I put up some netting so that the post woman would not charge the vine with assault causing bodily harm.
Finally, last week, a few weird, corkscrew buds appeared and then the chunky, very large flowers (white with a small yellow centre) followed. And the fragrance....oh my. Well worth the wait.
Only problem is that now I have to stay up past my bedtime to catch the first scent and rush out early in the morning to catch the dying one.
That elusiveness is definitely part of the attraction, though.
Who knew gardening could be such a clandestine experience?