Finally, Buds

I planted three moonflower vines and one Heavenly Blue vine 

in the same pot and popped on a trellis-style topper.

Experienced vine-growers among you will immediately 

recognize my mistake: too many plants in one pot.

It happens. 

Spring was long-gone into summer, and there I 

stood with more seedlings than I really wanted. 

Instead of throwing them away--

I'd already given many of them away--

I just tucked them all together, shot it with a hose, 

and declared the planting season "finished."

They've been battling it out, overcrowded and slow to produce any kind of bud—not 

a bloom in sight. This photo shows the vines still reaching, tender tips 

tapping the air, seeking anything to grab and entwine. 

It's the name of the game for vines, right? 

Here in September, these plants have finally gotten the message that 

there's nothing else to grab—no fence, tree, or trellis nearby to support it.

That's when the buds start to appear.

Much to ponder here ...

I'll share photos of the blooms as they arrive.

This is a moonflower bud. I hope to see the white moonflowers and 

 blue morning glories on the same trellis, blooming at opposite 

times of day. That's the master plan, at least. 

    

    Entering the publishing world is a lot like being one of these vines. You feel your way gingerly, hoping to find a place for your work — a publishing house that shares your vision ... a place to bloom. When you find one, like I did when I signed with Familius Publishing, it's hard to overstate the excitement. 

    The release of my first title with them has been delayed until 2022 because of the pandemic-slow economy of 2020. I've heard from the publishing folks at Familius though, and while my book-bloom is slightly postponed, Familius is still my place to set buds and eventually bloom. 

    It's hard to overstate the gratitude for this blessing. I might see some illustrations concepts for the Family Dog / Lit Pups project before the end of the year. If I'm allowed to share them, I will.