Forlorn hope is an expression that has
changed in the many centuries that it has been in use. At one time it was about
a group of handpicked soldiers sent on a difficult mission in which the chances
of a return were limited. From there the
expression became attached to the idea of doing something in complete futility.
The opportunity of a forlorn hope return became nonexistent and suicide mission
was the new definition of forlorn hope.
But the word all by its own, forlorn is all
about being alone and or abandoned.
In the late 80s Rosemary was keen in
planting spring bulbs in our garden. As soon as her interest in perennials
became paramount the spring frenzy for bulbs faded away.
But every year in a couple of spots in our garden
there are two clumps (two flowers each) featuring red tulips with a throat of
yellow. They look odd, a splash of extreme colour in a garden with as yet none.
I felt almost saddened when I cut one of these forlorn tulips, sheer survivors
of an era of our garden. If anything I felt admiration for their persistence for
coming back.
I was instantly rewarded by the first scan.
There is a touching delicacy in the image. I then proceeded to scan it in other
angles as it began to collapse. I am unsure if I should do this backwards or
forwards. Whichever way I may do it, I understand that this magazine
photographer enjoying his moment of obsolescence and redundancy shares
something with the forlorn red tulip. If anything we both have a dogged desire
for survival.
