Wrapping the Morning Glories

Written by Writer Dad on June 11, 2009 - View Comments
Categories: Writing

2973634406_01a9f36383I live in a large corner lot, 9 blocks from the beach…in an ancient house that both Father Time and civic pride seemed to have abandoned.

The house is an old Victorian, a perfect purchase for its original purpose – running a nursery school on the first floor while our family made house up on the second. The house, a hair or two over a hundred years old, has at least a 100,000 tales to tell, few of which I know and none of which I’ll share today. This particular tale takes place just outside the house, specifically along the fence that wraps around the lawn and faces the two separate streets that converge upon our corner.

The fence is not nearly as old as the house. Where I can still clearly see the hidden beauty of our abode tucked beyond the structure’s years, the fence was obviously unattractive when installed. However, it wasn’t lack of beauty that kept me from loving it. From the moment I first saw the fence I knew exactly what it wasn’t, and knowing what it wasn’t gave me an open invitation to cast a wish for what it might someday come to be.

The fence sat at the perfect height to obscure the outside world and shield some of the more unbecoming of our neighborhood’s behavior from the forever curious and always wandering eyes of my offspring. Neither Cindy or I would say we overly shelter our children. We expose them to as much language and experience as possible and stroll our streets regularly. Last summer didn’t fill the gas tank on either vehicle a single time. Still, there are plenty of things I’d rather they not see, especially from the supposed sanctuary of a private playground where they hold every right to remain. I would rather they not get jarred from the abundant imagination of childhood by course behavior, too often oblivious to the innocence of children. The problem was, the thin metal bars of the fence were completely see through.

Fortunately, a lifetime living among flowers filled my mind with a solution. Within two weeks of moving in to the house, I drove to a nursery, bought a few one gallon morning glories, then waited for time and our nearest star to harmonize the inevitable.

With my eyes closed I could clearly see: a lush green backdrop against which my children could play, irrespective of the concrete jungle on the other side. But like any canvas worth covering, multiplying the morning glories wouldn’t happen on its own.

Sun and water took care of the tendrils. The tedium was mine.

Each afternoon I would line my chair against the fence and wrap the morning glories through the apertures, weaving a lattice of nature thick enough to canvas a small area at a time, yet thin enough for the future to find its way through. There were times when this routine was relaxing, but more often than not it was a humdrum chore, hard to look forward to and difficult to find pleasure in. But every day I did it anyway, every afternoon imagining the way the fence would one day be – after the ironclad law of a whole lot of a little finally added up to some kind of a lot.

It took about a year and a half for the morning glories to swallow the fence. Now my children play in their own Narnia. The beauty isn’t just for them, nor has it stayed wrapped around the fence. Part of the beauty has woven its way into my mind to teach me a lesson I needed do learn.

I built something else during those long months of weaving and winding, something that went far beyond natural sanctuary. Anyone reading right now can relate.

The colorless drudgery of our days can sometimes blossom with the full fruition of a dream earned. Raising children, blogging, running a household, living a wonderful life. Everything worth loving takes time to create and sometimes the repetitive nature of living threatens to swallow us whole.

But it is always worth it.

The next time you find yourself wrapping morning glories of your own, remember: one day all those afternoons of tedium might finally combine to wipe away everything you don’t care to see.

Writer Dad

  • Share/Bookmark

No related posts.

Related posts brought to you by Yet Another Related Posts Plugin.

Tags: , , , , ,
  • Steely Dad: I was actually going to plant these giant trees, but an architect friend of mine (wisely) talked me out of it. : > ) Thanks for the compliment.

    GrennJello: There are some things I don't care for about California, but the year round sun and vegetation that goes along with it are certainly not one of them.
  • I like your idea for a privacy fence better than an ugly vinyl one like we're going to end up having... but then again, we don't have vines that live year-round. No privacy in the winter here with your set up! :)
  • Sean, beautifully written, my man. I loved this story. It is sometimes nice to get involved in a routine that doesn't require electricity. You also taught your children (and perhaps others) the importance of a commitment. Although if you want some "quick" privacy, next time just plant some kudzu. Just kidding! Good job!
  • Trina: Ah... I see. We're not there yet. All I can say is we're doing as much of the hard work now as we can, though neither one of us are foolish to think it will ever be enough.

    Mocha Dad: Exactly - love IS patient.

    Randi: Dave's always there, just on the fringes and in the shadows. I'll look for the Pixar link. I think I remember exactly where I read it.

    Laurie: Unfortunately, my Victorian is covered in aluminum siding (ugh!) but it is pink and yellow and looks like ice cream.

    Jake: We all do, brother. : > ) My children teach me each day, and I'm a far better man than I would have been had they never been born.

    Stephen: Thanks Stephen, I appreciate the compliment. I directly relate this to blogging. So much of what we do is so tedious and administrative, but the few of us that make it all the way to the finish line have an awful lot to look forward to.
  • Sean, this was a lovely post and I just LOVE your writing style.

    "The next time you find yourself wrapping morning glories of your own, remember: one day all those afternoons of tedium might finally combine to wipe away everything you don’t care to see."

    That's an incredibly positive way to look at what otherwise might be tedious tasks. I struggle with this and the perspective you provide here is great. Thanks!
  • It's funny how children can teach us things in really unexpected ways. My son is totally unaware that he constantly teaches me about my troubling lack of patience, selflessness and grace. I've got a long road ahead of me.
  • I didn't know Edgar Rice Burrows did anything besides Tarzan. You don't still happen to have the link to the story about them filming in Utah, do you?

    I've been back here three times now just to look at those morning glories.
  • Laurie
    Reading this, you stirred my appetite for a photo of not only the fence but the Victorian house. I love Victorian houses. I always wanted to live in one.

    You seem really happy Sean. That is the most awesome thing. God bless you and yours!
  • Wow---I was wondering what happened to Dave Fowler! I used to laugh so hard at the witticisms that went on between Sean, Dave and Eric over at the Blueprint. Nice to see you again, Dave...
  • This story reminds me of a verse from the Bible - Love is patient.
  • Trina
    OK I will bite, and share about the timing...before I read this we were having a deep family discussion about the importance of communicating in appropriate ways, and though it can be a challenge for a teen (yes, my lovely teen girl was throwing out curve balls) there are better ways to be heard.... though hubs and I often approach the challenges with a 'we are building a strong adult' thought line... this particular instance was feelling a bit like the drudgery you described, 'been here, done this too many times already'... so your post was timely in that it helped us to refocus again on the importance of the outcome. Phew!
    The good news is 'H' came around, we all committed to steps to improve for next time, plus the evening went swimmingly as we celebrated her Gr 9 farewell ceremoney. We are proud of the strong willed girl she is and appreciate that she dances to her own drum (well most of the time haha).
  • Randi: Utah has lots going for it anyway. I just read five minutes ago that my favorite filmmakers in the world are going to be there for the next 7 months. Pixar will be shooting their first live action feature there, an awesome (I'm sure) adaptation of the Edgar Rice Burroughs pulp novels, John Carter of Mars. YAY Utah!

    Kristin: Morning glories are so so so pretty. And I LOVE how they open in the morning and close at night. Flowers that follow a schedule, how cool is that? Cool enough for a post of it's own, maybe. If something as simple and beautiful as a flower can follow a schedule, why can't we?

    Janice: It is amazing. Every post, every email, every comment - it's all out there. I'm well over a million words for the year and the number just keeps climbing. Maybe someday there will be a way to keep count.

    Dave: My man, so nice to see in the blue and green. Dude, believe me, I'd build a brick wall if I could. Morning glories just happen to be cheaper.

    Prarie Chick: I'm glad you loved it cickie! Yes, I may be living on the coast, but I'm married to a one time farm girl and would be more than happy to trade my littered streets for some wide skies. Maybe someday... hopefully someday. : > )
  • mmmm.... LOVE this post. It touches on so many things that matter to me, things that I've chosen to center my days around... purpose, simple beauty, an attitude of gratitude, focusing on what brings hope and joy and letting everything else fade to gray. Love, love, love it. You have a prairie heart right there in the middle of your city *grin*
  • There are days when I want to build a fifteen foot brick wall around my house. Your solution is much prettier.
  • Cindy told me about these a few months ago and it was a joy to finally see a photo of them. If only more people could see their own blogging achievements in such a graphic way. I marvel at how many hours, how many millions of words are woven into the beautiful and inspiring cyber world we all inhabit. Nature has so many lessons for us when we're willing to work with her.
  • "I built something else during those long months of weaving and winding, something that went far beyond natural sanctuary."

    Yes, you did. This is beautiful. In addition to the thoughtful message here, I also happen to have a deep fondness for Morning Glories. They were the first flower I planted by seed as a girl, in the little section of garden my mom gave me along the fence. Morning Glories, green beans and scallions became my annual plantings of choice throughout childhood.
  • Randi
    You took me back to my childhood. My mom always had morning glories everywhere. I used to love to get up early on summer mornings and go wish them a good morning. I loved the dark blue/purple ones. She also had moss roses, in every color, that I loved.

    I tried growing morning glories last year on our chain link fence, but failed. Utah prefers brown and intends to keep it that way.

    I admire you for creating that nature-filled environment for your children. Most of my good memories of childhood involved playing in flowers, shrubs, vegetable gardens and trees.
  • Kyddryn: It's easy to forget and important to be reminded. It was my pleasure, double S with a K at the end. : > )

    Trina: Ooohh... intriguing. Tell me more.

    Beth: Writing this post helped to remind me. No one is excluded from that need.

    Mary Anne: My pleasure - Thank you squared. : > )

    J.D: Well said. Writer Dad is a project that has spread over a year. It would be easy to dismiss it because it is nowhere near where I need it to be, yet it has opened the doors to so many significant things. I breathe deep.

    Lori: I'm going to copy and paste something I just said to someone in an email. They wrote to say the imagery touched them deeply and had them crying at the end. I think you'll like it:

    This is one of those posts that came from someplace special. I like to write my Writer Dad posts the night before they go live and then schedule them for midnight. Cindy and I are usually writing at the same time, but last night she was downstairs with a friend we hadn't seen in a long while. I fell asleep at the keyboard. I'm normally exhausted by the end of the day, but I have her to keep me awake. Not so much last night. : > ) 

    So when I woke up this morning, it was the first thing I had to attend to. What I had was some good ideas and a lot of mess. I cleaned it with immediacy, smiled, and hit publish. It was written half asleep, and edited half awake - a one of a kind post indeed.

    David: Dude, those things grow FAST. Like they breathe fertilizer and spread. The only thing that took a long time was reigning them in so I could weave them through the fence. Now you kinda have me wanting to make a morning glory monster. My kids would LOVE it!
  • That's a lovely symbol you illustrated, the fence and the morning glories.

    Thinking of morning glories always makes me laugh, because one summer my parents planted them around the small lightpost in the front yard. They wanted something that would climb the pole and give it that elegant, organic look.

    They grew way too fast, and by the end of the summer the pole was wholly consumed. It was just a towering cone of tangled vines, with creepy tendrils reaching out in all directions. It looked like a monster.

    That image kept returning to me as I read this post, the morning glory monster. Amazing how they grow.
  • Splendid imagery, wonderful lesson!
  • It's a great reminder for an attitude of gratitude. Some projects spread over so much time that success happened along the way and it almost slid by without notice. I always remind myself to take a time out and stop to smell the morning glories.
  • "...sometimes the repetitive nature of living threatens to swallow us whole.

    But it is always worth it."

    Thank you for "being."
  • Thanks for this line: "Everything worth loving takes time to create and sometimes the repetitive nature of living threatens to swallow us whole."

    It's good to be reminded once in a while.
  • Trina
    couldnt be better timing...
  • Beautifully said!

    Sometimes, in the midst of it, one forgets the beauty to come. Thank you for the reminder...

    Shade and Sweetwater,
    K
blog comments powered by Disqus