All my life I have tried to be a tree.
I wanted to stand on my own. I wanted to be tall and strong. I wanted to shelter others.
But I am not a tree. I am a vine.
I reach out toward enlightenment.
I cling to things that I love.
I grow in all directions, not just up.
I get attached to things.
I am not independent. I am interdependent.
I must embrace my vine-ness.
I cannot be a tree, you see.
In years past, I had three Passions. A wild one, a red one and a hybrid.
I killed the red one. I backed over the wild one. The hybrid is the only type left.
Luckily, I have several plants of this Passiflora ‘Blue Crown’ hybrid.
I finally got brave enough to put one plant in the ground along a fence near the Asparagus.
Here is its first ever bloom.
If this plant does not survive our winters, I have two more in large pots.
It is a vigorous vine that climbs the deck poles
and then is trained to grow on a trellis upstairs.
All are happily blooming in this August heat.
It is such a marvelous bloom.
There is a whole world on one weed in my garden.
I did not kill this weed because of a hybrid I fell in love with in Tuscany.
So when I saw it growing on the bank, I staked it up to compare it with the hybrid.
What a wonderful weed it has been.
This wild Passion vine/Maypop/Passiflora incarnata has been a whole laboratory.
There are ants on the pods and stems.
The best part is all the caterpillars of various sizes.
Tiny, shiny, spiky, orange and black caterpillars of Fritillary butterflies.
I check on this plant every day and find something new.
An added bonus is a beautiful, blue morning glory that grew up into the Passion vine.
My daddy’s favorite color of blue, bluebird blue.
I have been blessed by this weed. I am so thankful I did not kill it.
Where would all those lovely caterpillars be? Nowhere, that’s where.
Follow the weed.