In the night, intricate scent molecules rise and travel from the deck garden just below, to reach me in my window-side bed. Helpless to answer this drenching invitation, I can only perceive it. If only I were a pollinator! I can only inhale, sigh, and be ravished.
Petunias of an improbably-saturated violet color are calling me. Many white flowers release their alluring scents only at night, but the violet petunias broadcast all day, although the night air, in its moistness, carries their invitation more insistently.
It costs the petunias, to make their color and their perfume. The required chemicals are complex, and expensive to make, inside their little green selves. So making and broadcasting them to pollinators must be vital, and worth it.
But my petunias are greenhouse-raised, and so their costly investment is all for nothing, for in a few months, at the end of summer, I will discard them.
But now? Sweet things, keep on, and I will care tenderly for you, and give over to your ravishments.