"Nose twisters," the literal meaning of the word "nasturtium," (Tropaeolum majus), adorn our front porch’s flower boxes. Their festive colors and attitude attract more than just my eyes as the bees come to visit, their weight causing the delicate flower to bow down in submission as the pollinator dives within. They remind me of the garden of Anne Spencer from Lynchburg, Virginia. An African American poet of the Harlem Renaissance whose back flower garden was her constant muse and quiet refuge, she wrote a beautiful poem to the nasturtium. Here are several lines:
Day-torch, Flame-flower, cool-hot Beauty,
I cannot see, I cannot hear your flutey
Voice lure your loving swain...
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