Moonflower Evening

It was unseasonably cool last week, with night temps dow  into the 40's, and I worried that my moonflowers would drop every bud and give up on 2011. But over the weekend the temps began to warm, and by Monday night the moonflowers were putting on a show.  

Each afternoon when I came home from work, I would visit the garden to count the buds that were  beginning their slow uncurling.  After dinner, as dusk descended, the flowers would flatten out and release their delicate, sweet perfume into the humid night air.  I always plan to watch them open, but somehow I get busy, and when I finally step out the slider to check on them, they are already open.  I sniff them and admire for a moment, then head back inside as darkness falls, and the moonflowers bloom for the night sky.

Moonflowers resemble their cousins the morning glories, but they are larger,  more elegant, and much more work to grow.  Because they are native to the tropics the seeds must be started indoors, and they must be soaked overnight or they may not germinate.  

I always plant my moonflower seedlings out into the garden too early, and as a result they sulk and refuse to grow for up to a month, or until it is hot both night and day.  The nights that moonflowers love are the ones so hot and streamy it's hard to sleep without air-conditioning.  

Wednesday night (when I took these pictures) still felt like summer,  but was made  more precious than an evening in July or August  by the knowledge that it was one of the few such nights left.  As I sat and smelled the moonflowers on the air, a pair of  monarchs landed on the Verbena Bonariensis for some last deep sips before migrating.  I caught Sol in mid stride in the third photo, between verbena and goldenrod, the purple and gold glory of  September.  Finally I picked up my bowl of peppers and went inside to make some more pickles, summer captured in a jar.