Apparently no one briefed my Four O’Clocks about their name. Or issued them watches.
Once I figured out, with the help of AnnieBetty and other astute commenters, what kind of flower I had actually grown, I began a full-court press on Tuesday afternoon to figure out when they would actually open up. I kept running outside, peering at the blossoms, then retreating indoors, wondering if I would know it when I saw it.
I decided, after awhile, that my Four O’Clocks were loser flowers. Unwilling to open. Unwilling to play with me.
I considered pouting. Then I moved on to other shiny and distracting things, and kind of forgot about it.
On Friday morning, as I was getting ready for work, I looked out the back door and saw an unmistakable set of trumpet-like open blossoms in the garden. What time was it? It was approximately 7 a.m. Central Daylight Time.
I ran out without my camera the first time, half afraid that they’d close up when I got out there, like some kind of trick.
But they stayed open, and I returned with the camera, and even managed to score good light. Still, my flowers? Hopelessly misnamed.