Morning Glories were considered a pest where I grew up. They would tangle around every plant in sight and take over the hillside behind our house. I don't see them often in Colorado, but one magical garden a mile from my house is a paradise of vines and whimsy right now. Zinnias of every color leap out of the center of the garden, threatening to jump the boundaries. But the fences belong to the morning glories, winding up to the sky, towering above the riot of color, imposing their regal purple majesty on the mayhem below.
