Gray Matters - Moon Flower Madness

September 2007 - Barb Shave - "Come watch the flowers bloom over at Fran's," they told me. While I pondered the sorry social life implications of this form of entertainment, they enthused: "You won't believe your eyes! Her Moon Flower blossoms every evening." The truth is that I had nothing better to do on this steamy August night so I went for a look-see. The curious like me gathered like moths to a flame until traffic was gridlocked at Fran's end of the street. A wall of lookers stared in silent rapture at a single, scraggly plant in her front flowerbed. You could have heard a pin drop in that crowd - or a bud burst. Fran was in fine hostess form, seating the infirm and providing instructional commentary: "See, that bud has begun to split. Now, watch closely and you'll soon be amazed!" Grandchildren knelt reverently before the sickly-looking plant with its spindly, elongated buds, and everyone craned and strained to see whatever there was to see. Suddenly, the entire plant quivered, a pod split, and like a fast-forward film, stamens thrust outward and unfurled the petals. The blooming happened in a matter of seconds like a fast-forwarded nature film. The resulting flower was brilliant yellow and about the size and shape of a petunia. We gasped with astonishment, and I could swear that the whole event was accompanied by a lovely crescendo from Tchaikovsky's Waltz of the Flowers. And when another opened, then another and another, we began to" ooh" as if we were watching fireworks. Each blooming seemed more glorious than the previous. "Look at that one!" One old timer thought the process was much like the birthing of baby animals back on his farm. We were spellbound. "Isn't this the darnedest thing you have ever seen?" When darkness enveloped us, Tchaikovsky wound down and the show ended. The flowers' fragile beauty was reserved for the moon. At dawn each would wilt. Only scorekeeping remained. Fran recorded seven new flowers that evening. (Her record is fifteen in one night). Then it was then time to see how Don's plant had performed. So we packed away the lawn chairs and hustled down the street to Don's where we prowled his yard with flashlights until we spotted his plant. Fran had given Don a slip of hers in good faith that he would never allow his Moon Flower to outshine hers. But Don sneaked out and fertilized one night, and his had bloomed like stink ever since. Fran was visibly relieved to discover that Don's had made a relatively poor showing of only five new flowers this time. In competition now for the season total, Fran and Don are racing to a blooming finish at the first frost. It's a dead heat now because Fran lost her edge the day she accidentally over-fertilized in a retaliatory frenzy. That set her plant back and she lost an entire evening's flowering. She insists, "If Don doesn't stop showing off, I'll give seedlings to everybody. That would take away his thunder and serve him right!"

 

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