A desiccated floral beauty in the wash caught my eye the other morning, and I asked my hiking partner what it was. "Morning glory," she said, pointing out the dry vine twisted around branches of its host.
Suddenly, then, I began seeing it everywhere, wrapped around branches much the way Therese and I had wrapped Christmas lights around the century plant "Christmas tree" for the weekend show at the gallery.
And now, at last, I could make sense of this phone photo Therese sent me last summer, when the morning glories were all in glorious bloom in the wash.




