Blow, Gabriel, Blow

Shortly after moving into our house many years ago, my husband planted a trumpet vine by the corner of our front porch.

It took off like a flowering kudzu.

We are not house-proud and, since our three children have grown, we have abandoned all effort to keep the growth of the greenery in check.

No longer do we clear a spot and buy flowers to create a garden.

That was fine when our children were young—we wanted them to appreciate nature—but as we get older, the bushes and greenery have taken over, especially the trumpet vine.

It now puts out feelers across the living room window, has crept up the porch roof, and even tried to invade our second story study when it found its way through a tiny crack in the storm window.

Oh, did I mention that it has also climbed thirty feet into the air using our fir tree as a trellis?

Its wooden branches have curved around the handrails of the four steps to our porch so there is no way the handrails will ever become loose.

And it also grows laterally, extending its tendrils through the railings, seeming to grab innocent passersby, like some science fiction plant invading the earth.

The vine can even burrow underground and put out baby vines on our front lawn; my husband is constantly mowing them with  the grass.

I half-heartedly worry that the vine will tunnel under the street and pop up in our neighbor’s yard and we will be blamed for unleashing this scourge on Almond St.

One day, as I was walking through a pile of dropped trumpet vine flowers on our walkway, I began to think of Gabriel’s trumpet.

Checking on my computer, I was delighted to see that his trumpet, which is supposed to usher in the final judgment, is shaped exactly like the flowers on our vine.

Further, the article notes the paradox that the horn has infinite length but a finite volume.

Although I don’t exactly understand this or the accompanying mathematical proofs, I still love to think that this flower overcomes duality in the world, combining the finite and the infinite, the human and the divine into one beautiful flower.

I do not believe in a judgment day, but I am still intrigued by what I have learned about this vine.

And I cannot help feeling the blossoms are a religious icon, blessing my home.