Over 20 years ago my friend and fellow gardener placed several plantings of the ground cover
Pachysandra (Pachysandra terminalis) at the far side of the meadow behind our house at the edgeof the woods. It has been slow to grow but has been gradually expanding. It stays very green all winterand creates enough shade to keep the weeds to a minimum. I was unexcited initially but have grown to love it.It responded to my love force by flowering this year - or was it the extra March rains?It may have flowered before but never like this.
A huge grateful singout to our friend Louise Franks who let me know that the Metropolitan Opera is providing free opera at metopera.org. This week is all Wagner. At Princeton I majored in English and German Literature. Half of my departmental courses were in English Literature and the other half were in German Literature. My thesis was titled "The Artist in the Works of James Joyce and Thomas Mann". I still practice my "German" muscle occasionally.
This afternoon I have luxuriated in streaming three Acts of "Tristan und Isolde". It is one of my favorites. I took a semester course on Wagner as an elective which culminated in the entire class attending a live performance of Tristan at the Met. We were seated upstairs in draped booths with small lights (we could not see the stage) so we could follow the opera with our music books. It was totally wondrous.After graduation I toured Europe with two friends. I made reservations for us to see "Tristan und Isolde" at Bayreuth where the theater was created by Wagner for his works. The orchestra was down below in front and out of sight but the acoustics were perfection. Unfortunately they changed the dates on us and we got to see Parsifal instead.It was very moving and I still treasure the experience. The performance started in the afternoon. We ate dinner after the first act and dessert after the second act.When I got married (in 1961) one of my gifts to Jan was a recording of the complete Tristan und Isolde. It was partly out of my love of the opera and partly in honor of her German heritage. I have to admit that in retrospect that as in the legend I have always believed in the lasting power of a 'love potion'. It worked for me.I looked in the basement cabinet where I still have a few classic vinyl records and there was the album: five 33.3 records with a booklet.
It was conducted by Wilhelm Furchtwangler and featured Kirsten Flagstaff as Isolde and Ludwig Suthaus as Tristan. It probably has not been played for over 50 years. I think I need a new needle for my turn table.As you can imagine it was a great afternoon of emotional embedding in the opera and great personal memories.This is the last day for Tristan at the Met - you can check what is next for tonight and the rest of the week.
Ours has. I'm not even supposed to use the public toilet at the park as I walk alone.
But mine is not the only life turned upside down by nature. Check out these two tulip bulbs that have beendelivered by our deer.Their green leaves have been crunched as you can see. I will put them back into the earth but I have mydoubts that beautiful tulips will result. So it goes in gardening.Can immortality be far beyond?John Donne - 1571-1631Death, be not proud (Holy Sonnet 10)
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou are not so;
For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy'or charms can make us sleep as well
And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.
undressed, a soul preys
As we continue to hunker down the daffodils are very slow to emerge this year - lots of green leaves but flowers
only in the twos and threes. They are showing up in different colors.The surrounding periwinkle (Vinca minor) has bloomed in abundance."The Periwinkle Time" Blues crushed prepossessing Violet Lavender starbursts sharp as diamonds
Here is an amaryllis in cardinal red. I stage bringing them out of the darkness so that they will bloom at different times.
This one is only 2 years old.You will have to admit that it is slightly orgasmic.But I am slightly biased.
Its a cloudy day here in the Heartland. We have several positive Covid 19 cases in our county so people we know are hunkered down. We are for sure. We are not enamored of Italy's ventilator triage where they only treat people under seventy. My mother's favorite saying was, "This too shall pass."
Last week we had one daffodil in the front yard. Now there are many. Here is the first.Invictus
Out of the night that covers me,Black as the pit from pole to pole,I thank whatever gods may beFor my unconquerable soul.In the fell clutch of circumstanceI have not winced nor cried aloud.Under the bludgeonings of chanceMy head is bloody, but unbowed.Beyond this place of wrath and tearsLooms but the Horror of the shade,And yet the menace of the yearsFinds and shall find me unafraid.It matters not how strait the gate,How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate,I am the captain of my soul.So there!
At the San Diego Zoo.
Macatawa MichiganWith a huge green tomato worm.
Vogue.Ready for the trails.These are the last of the series which was initially for the Queen's Birthday.
Our 50th AnniversarySultry
Sanibel IslandHiking makes me HUNGRY!LAKE GIRLBROWN HAIR at Japanese Garden in Portland
A new year but my old friend bursts out as usual. I have some reds but my orange ones
always arrive at the head of the line.
The stigma is the amaryllis "MeToo" moment, ready for action.The anthers are hoping to oblige ready or not.
Without the drama of words its pretty mundane.Amaryllis
By Connie WanekA flower needs to be this sizeto conceal the winter window,and this color, the redof a Fiat with the top down,to impress us, dull as we've grown.Months ago the gigantic onion of a bulbhalf above the soilstuck out its green tongueand slowly, day by day,the flower itself entered our world,closed, like hands that captured a moth,then open, as eyes open,and the amaryllis, seeing us,was somehow undiscouraged.It stands before us nowas we eat our soup;you pour a little of your drinking waterinto its saucer, and a few crumbsof fragrant earth fallonto the tabletop.
