Morning Glories: September’s Flowers
The Morning Glories have reached the top of the treehouse and they are glorious. “September’s flower,” the madman calls them. I call them the late August flowers, but that doesn’t sound as nice.
Actually, they have been blooming all summer, but in our garden now is when they really hit their peak. Incidentally, another name for Morning Glory is the Back-to-School Vine: remember, kids used to go back to school in September.
Large Family
Morning Glories belong to the genus Ipomoea which contains over 600 species. That’s an awful lot of cousins. The madman says that if you can’t find something in this group to please you maybe you shouldn’t grow a garden.
Although the exact origin of Ipomoea is obscure, it most likely originated in equatorial America. The morning glory, Ipomoea purpurea, was respected by Native American cultures for its spiritual properties. Aztec priests would ingest crushed seeds to communicate with their gods. The madman, however, strongly suggests that you should not attempt to experience the psychoactive properties of these seeds. They are toxic and death is too final.
Hummingbirds Love Them
So, why are we playing around with plants like these? The flowers are beautiful and, by the way, the hummingbirds love them. We first saw morning glories growing on a trellis in a long-forgotten garden. As I recall, they were blue, most likely the variety “Heavenly Blue”. This was during his purple phase – purple beans, purple flowers, purple leaves… The madman was fascinated by the trumpet shaped flowers. “Too bad they aren’t purple,” he said. Then, one day, while thumbing through a seed catalog he came upon “Grandpa Ott.” He could get a purple variety – and he did.
His idea was to string twine from the roof gutters to the ground and grow the vines in the front of the house. It was a great idea, but the twine broke under the weight of the vines. The next year we replaced the twine with para-cord, and have been growing them there ever since. In the heat of the summer, they provide shade to the windows in the front of the house. And, there is nothing like the sight of a hummingbird working the purple trumpets at close range.
Bavarian Immigrants
Ipomoea purpurea ‘Grandpa Ott’ is an immigrant from Bavaria. Like many immigrants of the time, John Ott brought seeds from his homeland when he settled in Iowa in the 1800s. These open-pollinated seeds stayed in the family and inspired Diane Ott Whealy to found Seed Saver Exchange in 1975. She wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t asked her grandfather (John’s son) for seeds of the morning glory she remembered from her childhood. The joy of “Grandpa Ott” is that its purple blooms are 3” across and they stay open until around noon so we can truly enjoy them. Other varieties of morning glories close much earlier in the day.
The Mexican Morning Glory
Encouraged by the success of this morning glory, we branched out. When he found out that hummingbirds liked red, the madman began looking for red varieties and came upon I. coccinea or the Mexican Morning Glory. Because of its much smaller flower size, he just had to try it. After all, he was doing this for the hummingbirds.
We planted the seeds at the base of the treehouse and we marveled at how quickly they reached the top and how they peacefully co-existed with the hops. If the truth be told, they are considered invasive in Arkansas and Arizona. Judging by how fast they grow and re-seed, we understand. Luckily, we live in Connecticut, nor Arizona where it is illegal to plant this variety.
Moon Flowers
During our first visit to Longwood Gardens, we were introduced to the night-blooming cousin, I. alba, growing along an archway. Since that time we have included the Moon Flower in our gardening with mixed results. The large white moon-shaped discs appear in late afternoon and emit a sweet fragrance. Some years the blooms are prolific, some years not so much.
This year we noticed an interesting pattern to the blooms (remember, we are still basically in quarantine and have spent a lot of time observing our gardens). The moon flowers at the lake bloomed first. Then, the moon flowers in the alcove at home bloomed. Last to show signs of blooming were those in the moon garden. Of course, we wanted to know the reason.
Short Hot Days: Long Warm Nights
Because the plant hails from the tropics, it flowers best during a summer short-day photoperiod which means that as the nights get longer, the flowering gets better. Thanks to the angle of the sun and the trees next door we lose sunlight quicker at the lake and, thanks to shade from the house, the alcove moon flowers loose sunlight quicker than those in the moon garden. As long as the frost stays away we expect to have a glorious display in the moon garden this year.
There is also a fourth type of morning glory we grow, although not on purpose. And, here is where common names can get you in trouble. The wild morning glory is not even an Ipomoea; it is a more distant cousin called Bindweed here in Connecticut. In fact, there are two bindweeds that plague our garden.
Bad Cousin #1
The first is Hedge Bindweed, Calyslegia sepium, and it is a native Connecticut wildflower. But, it is an aggressive one and is considered “noxious” in some states, not in Connecticut but definitely in our yard. The vines grow fast and circle plants in a counter-clockwise direction. With its rapid growth, C. sepium can easily overpower cultivated flowers and shrubs. Plus, its seeds are viable for 30 years. Pretty, yes. Native, yes. But we do try to get rid of it.
Bad Cousin #2
The next bindweed is more problematic. Field Bindweed, Convolvulus arvensis, is one of the most troublesome weeds in agricultural fields in temperate regions. A native of Europe and Asia, field bindweed is an herbaceous perennial plant that quickly overcomes native species. This nasty plant can spring up from root or stem fragments and the roots can be up to 9’ deep. The flowers of this perennial morning glory are smaller than our cultivated ones, I. purpurpea, although they do resemble it. Best practice is to rip this out wherever you find it. Following his best practices advice, the madman is out there pulling out a new crop of bindweed that tried to sneak into the front bed.
I think I’ll surprise him with a glass of lemonade – it’s still summer. We’ll sit in the moon garden and see if any Moon Flowers start to open.
