Light Magic Without a Lot of Color

 

Rabbit brush blooms yellow in the summer, 

turns pale ivory when it goes to seed.

Vine climbed hackberry tree and left behind

a coyote gourd, like an ornament.

And always, the ghostly remains of last summer's

brilliant red and blue morning glories --

All it takes is light

and open, seeing eyes!

Jack Frost in the Philadelphia Wash

Glory in the Morning

 

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.