[Illustration: [Ovules]]
When the ovules get ready to grow, the flower prepares to bloom.
All about the ovules the delicate walls of the ovary shut tightly.
The white filaments of the stamens group themselves about it; you cannot
see the ovary, they stand so close to it.
Their anther cells reach halfway up to the stigma, for the white stigma
stands above the anthers. The anthers and the stigma are there for the
sake of the ovules.
But this is not all.
[Illustration: [Corolla]]
A delicate corolla of bright colors surrounds the stamens and pistil. It
holds them in its white tube, and spreads the bright border out wide for
the bees to see and come to the help of the ovules.
But this is not all.
[Illustration: [Calyx]]
The green calyx wraps its sepals about the end of the corolla tube, and
when the corolla falls the calyx covers nicely the ovary and helps it
protect the ovules.
But this is not all.
[Illustration: [Ovary]]
When the bees have been and have left their message of life, and when
the corolla has faded and fallen, the stems of the flowers turn down and
hide the ovary with its seedlets under the leaves.
But this is not all.
[Illustration: [Flower]]
The leaves work day and night to make food for the plant, and some of it
goes to the ovules. The leaves eat what is in the air and change it to
food for the rest of the plant and the ovules.
But this is not all.
The roots suck food from the hard earth; they help the leaves make food.
But this is not all.
The stems carry the food from the roots to the leaves, and from the
leaves to the flowers, where it gets to the ovules.
Why should so much be done for the sake of the tiny ovules, white little
atoms at the heart of the flower?
Why should the flowers care? Why should they spread bright corollas and
arrange these cunning protections and draw up the sap for the sake of
the tiny white ovules?
[Illustration: [Ovary]]
Look into the ovary and see them.
Six small white things are they, so small and soft you would scarcely
think they were worth much care.
But look again and think a little. They are very wonderful, although so
small. They grow to the ovary by a little stem; they get the good sap to
grow on through this stem. They have a little hole through their
delicate coats, and through this hole the pollen enters.
When the pollen is in, the little hole closes, and the ovules feel
strong and alive. They draw in the sap the leaves have made them through
their little stem; they grow larger and firmer. They cease to be tiny
white round things; they get two leaves with a little stem and a bud
between them.
They are no longer ovules, they are seeds. They are little sleeping
vines. In each black little seed is a whole vine packed away.
After a time the old vine will fade away. It will fall and turn brown.
It will do no more work of changing gases and minerals into living
plant. It will not again have green leaves and bear bright flowers.
But there will be more morning-glories, for the vine has stored some of
its life in the seeds, and they will not fade and cease to work. All
that is left of the life of the vine is in the seeds. All the
morning-glories that will grow and delight us with their bright flowers
next summer lie packed away in the dark seeds.
Dear little seeds, live on through the cold winter; without you we never
again could see our bright morning-glories!
And that is why the vines take such care of the seeds; the whole race of
morning-glories is in their keeping.