Squash Blossoms

It wasn't until I saw the photo of the squash blossom in the sidebar of Marion's blog that I really ever gave any thought to its beauty. I had never before considered it a "real" flower. It was just a means to the end, a precursor... necessary, but not necessarily noteworthy.

This morning I headed to our little garden spot and noticed that the blossoms were wide open and swarming with bees. I hurried back in for my camera so I could share some photos here.

I waited and waited for the bee to exit this flower. Perhaps he was drunk on nectar?

Not sure if this bee was arriving or departing.

I managed to find a blossom without a bee in it!

If you look in the background of this photo you will see blossoms becoming squash in varying stages.

Marion included a portion of a poem by Robert Francis under her photo. Here is the poem in its entirety.

Squash in Blossom
Robert Francis

How lush, how loose, the uninhibited squash is.
If ever hearts (and these immoderate leaves
Are vegetable hearts) were worn on sleeves,
The squash's are. In green the squash vine gushes.

The flowers are cornucopias of summer,
Briefly exuberant and cheaply golden.
And if they make a show of being hidden,
Are open promiscuously to every comer.

Let the squash be what it was doomed to be
By the old Gardener with the shrewd green thumb.
Let it expand and sprawl, defenceless, dumb.
But let me be the fiber-disciplined tree

Whose leaf (with something to say in wind) is small,
Reduced to the ingenuity of a green splinter
Sharp to defy or fraternize with winter,
Or if not that, prepared in fall to fall.