Scarlet passion flower
Last spring my neighbor Janet was given this scarlet passion flower by several friends in memory of her late husband, Domingo, who loved, she said, red flowers. Domingo was an old-fashioned yard guy who assiduously tended his small lawn, a couple of shade trees, and a bank of ferns in front of his porch. I never saw him plant flowers of any kind in the years that I knew him.
While he may not have planted flowers, red or otherwise, in his own front yard, he was deeply interested in mine. He frequently walked across the street when I was working to see what was blooming, and he’d call out encouragements from his car window as he turned into his driveway. One fall day when he stopped by, he saw the chile pequin loaded with red peppers and told me about making fiery salsa from the fruit.
Domingo passed away this year, after a long illness that he concealed for a while with cheerful talk and declarations of improving health. I liked him, and I miss talking with him now that he’s gone.
Janet surprised me by planting the passion flower right out front. It twines up her front porch, gracefully drooping from wires she strung along the ceiling. The pretty leaves lend a cottagey look to the gray bungalow, but I hadn’t seen a blossom all summer. Too much shade, I guessed.
Today I was standing at the front door, studying my garden for signs of thirst (many plants were drooping after a few weeks, finally, without rain). A glimpse of red pulled my gaze across the street. Domingo’s passion flower was blooming! I grabbed my camera and walked barefoot across the road for a closer look.
I’d never seen a scarlet passion flower, though the purple ones are common around here. The flowers are as big as my palm and red as a stoplight. Their alien, fantastic shape is softened by downturned petals, like a ballerina’s skirt.
I don’t know whether Domingo would have approved of the vine on the porch, but I’m sure he would have liked seeing it bloom. The funny thing is, even though he didn’t plant it, whenever these flowers open I’ll be reminded of him.
What a stunning red flower and wonderful memory of your neighbor. There is something quite special about flowers that remind us of people who have passed away or moved on from our lives. My Dad would have loved that red passion flower. He always planted the reddest geraniums he could find in a long planting box on our front porch. We had a wrought iron railing that would have been a perfect place for such a vine.
Carol at May Dreams Gardens
If you were trying to make us tear up, Pam – you succeeded! I love this story.
I have seen the red ones before – one summer there was a trellis-ful at East Side Cafe.
Annie at the Transplantable Rose
Thanks for a beautiful story and lovely photos.
Tim in Leander
What a lovely story–and a beautiful flower! I would be happy to know that someone was thinking of me whenever they saw something that lovely in bloom.
Beautiful flower made more fascinating by the touching story behind it. I’ve never seen a red passionflower either.
That’s an astonishing flower; I’ve never seen a red passiflora. I’m having a moment of plant envy. Will it fruit?
I had a same old, same old passionflower, but it didn’t bloom and I figured the same thing about it not getting enough sun. So, I got rid of it, but my sun exposure situation has changed.
Pam:
That was such a tribute to your neighbor. People touch our lives in so many different ways all of which make an imprint. If any of you are interested in a red passionflower vine I am sure that Logee’s, a large mailorder house, has them. They list over fifteen different passionflowers in a wide variety of colors. They are online at http://www.logees.com.
Thank you for sharing such a wonderful tribute. I know your neighbor will appreciate your kind words as much as she’s enjoying her beautiful passionflower vine. It truly is stunning — and nice to think that it grows so beautifully out of rememberance.
What a touching tribute to someone I heard you speak of so many times. I’m so glad you’re my daughter!
Carol, isn’t there something sweet and old-fashioned about a vine growing up a wrought-iron railing? Red geraniums seem sweetly old-fashioned too. What a nice flower to remind you of your dad.
Annie, I wish I could have seen that trellis of scarlet passionflower at Eastside Cafe.
Tim, Kim, and MSS, thanks for your kind comments.
Chuck, I don’t know whether this vine will fruit. I’ll get back to you on that. Or maybe you’ll try one of your own and will let me know. At any rate, Janet’s passionflower is blooming on an east-facing porch that is considerably shaded by oaks.
Layanee, thanks for the supplier info.
Diana, I don’t know if my neighbor even knows about my blog, but if she ever reads this I do hope she’ll like this memory of her husband. He isn’t forgotten.
Mom, thanks. 🙂
I kinda think that Domingo might have approved.
It’s nice that his wife planted it out front I think.
If he’d seen it looking so charming, I don’t think he could have resisted. And, yes, I think his wife planted it in a lovely spot. —Pam
Oh I love that flower. It is stunning – what a beautiful story.
Thanks, Kate. —Pam
Pam, this reminded me of the P. miniata featured in bpotd recently, and then I had to look it up, and what you’ve got there is actually P. vitifolia, I think, based on the leaf shape and the color of the outer coronal filaments. Must be hand-pollinated to set fruit outside of its natural range. It’s amazing to me how similar some of these red-flowered species look (P. miniata, coccinea, vitifolia, manicata), considering how far they are from each other taxonomically (there are more than 500 species).
Also, Chuck is full of crap, there’s a giant P. manicata in the parking lot next to the the main building of the SF Botanic Garden that he recently photographed, and, not to be to dorky, many species from supersection Tacsonia (which are mostly hummingbird-pollinated, and thus red) throughout that garden.
That’s more passionflower botany than I know, Max, so I’ll have to take your word for it. Since this post is essentially a story about my neighbor, I opted to delete the reference to P. coccinea, rather than distracting from the story by striking-through and correcting the botanical name. But I do appreciate your correctly identifying it.
As for your comment about Chuck not noticing the red passionflower at the SFBG, sometimes it takes a photo of something for you to notice what’s right in front of your face. At least, that’s how it can be for me. —Pam
What a beautiful flower! I simply love Passion Flowers, they’re wonderful. I’m doing a school project on them. =D
~!Melody!~
Thanks, Melody. Good luck with your project. —Pam