The next spring I watched closely for signs of life. None came. The harsh Canadian winter had killed them. Not about to give up, I went to the local garden center. I was ecstatic when I found the same deep, blue variety.
Soon after being planted, green shoots started to climb the trellis. I waited patiently for the lovely blue blossoms to appear. Lots of foliage grew, but no blossoms. I fertilized, watered and cared for the plants lovingly. The odd flower began to appear, but instead of blooming continuously like they had the year before, only one or two blossoms appeared at a time.
One day, I told my daugher, Michelle, how disappointed I was with the morning glories. My four year old grandson, Brandon, came into the kitchen.
"You can have some of ours," Grandma, he said.
"No thanks, Sweetie. Grandma really wants the blue ones," I said, knowing theirs was a deep red variety.
Tears welled. "Please, Grandma. Your blue ones are real lonely. That's why they don't have any flowers. Besides, Daddy's cutting ours down to make the driveway longer."
"Okay, I'll take some," I replied, knowing how much he loved those flowers.
A grin spread across his baby face. "Thanks, Grandma. Now I can see my flowers when I come to your house.
I took the red morning glories home and planted them beside the blue ones. At least they would grow. They were mature, well-established plants. Still, I longed for the blue ones of the year before.
Within two weeks, the plants I inherited were sending green shoots up the trellis. Small red flowers begun to appear. In another week, blue flowers began to appear, also. Had Brandon in his innocence been right. Maybe all the new plants needed was a boost from the more mature ones. Was such a thing possible?
The next time Brandon came to visit, the trellis was covered with twisting foliage and pale mauve flowers. He got out of the car and started for the house. He stopped. He stared at the plant. He turned to me, his eyes filled with tears.
"Where did you get the purple morning glories?" he asked. "I gave you red ones." He flew to me, his arms encircling my legs. He sobbed, deep, wracking sobs.
I crouched down to his level, turned his face and looked him in the eye. "Grandma didn't buy purple morning glories. I brought the red ones from your house and planted them with my blue ones. I have no idea why they are mauve."
"Mauve is the same as purple, only different, right?"
"That's right," I told him.
He swept away a tear and gave me a huge grin. "I know why the flowers are purple."
"And why is that?" I asked him.
"Cause, we mixed up God's colours. Red and blue make purple."
"That's a good reason," I told him, swiping a tear from my own cheek.
Brandon took my hand and we walked toward the house. Two hearts at peace with the blessing that God have given them.
by
Doug Knutson
Mary M. Alward
1997 - 2005