A THOUSAND WORDS - Alex Waterhouse-Hayward's blog on pictures, plants, politics and whatever else is on his mind.




 

The parasol is the umbrella's daughter
Saturday, June 18, 2016





The parasol is the umbrella’s daughter

1747


The parasol is the umbrella’s daughter,

And associates with a fan

While her father abuts the tempest

And abridges the rain.



The former assists a siren
In her serene display;
But her father is borne and honored,
And borrowed to this day.

 Without the power to die
 Lessons on the piny

Ample make this bed
How happy is the little stone
 Sleep is supposed to be
The shutting of the eye
I dwell in possibility
when Sappho was a living girl
In a library
 A light exists in spring
The lady dare not lift her veil
 I took my power in my hand
 I find my feet have further goals
 I cannot dance upon my toes
The Music of the Violin does not emerge alone
Red Blaze 
He touched me, so I live to know
Rear Window- The Entering Takes Away
Said Death to Passion
 We Wear the Mask That Grins And Lies
It was not death for I stood alone
The Music in the Violin Does Not Emerge Alone
I tend my flowers for thee
Lavinia Norcross Dickinson
Pray gather me anemone! 
Ample make her bed
His caravan of red 
Me-come! My dazzled face  
Develops pearl and weed

But peers beyond her mesh
Surgeons must be very careful
Water is taught by thirst
I could not prove that years had feet
April played her fiddle
A violin in Baize replaced
I think the longest hour
The spirit lasts
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/03/i-left-them-in-ground-emily-dickinson.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2014/01/i-felt-my-life-with-both-my-hands.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/currer-bell-emily-dickinson-charlotte.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/03/and-zero-at-bone-with-dirks-of-melody.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/05/charm-invests-her-face.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/i-could-not-see-to-see.html 
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/blonde-assasin-passes-on.html
http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html



Black & White
Friday, June 17, 2016



Since I returned at the end of April from my trip to Buenos Aires I went through a few commitments I could not avoid. One of them was an appointment to have my enlarged prostate reamed (I like that word!). Then there were family obligations like taking care of my Rosemary who has a very bad left knee and dealing with my youngest daughter who is getting ready to move this Saturday the 19th to the little home they purchased in Burnaby, BC. I purchased a Canon Pro-1 printer and I am learning the ropes. It is a big change from my now gone darkroom. 

All the above have prevented me from writing more blogs about my trip to Argentina and I have to confess that I had a very large hole to fill since I did not write any while I was in Buenos Aires. Because of that gap I decided to write a few filler blogs (many with racy photographs) which were relatively easy to write. I am now ahead of myself but I could not resist in writing one more. So here it is.

For most of my photographic career I have studied a situation and then commited to doing it one way. The only variant might be to shoot the pictures in horizontal and vertical modes. This I have always done as it is one of the prerequisites of the magazine photographer to give the magazine art director photographs that will fill pages without unnecessary cropping.

In only a few (very few) instances has an art director said those terrible words after seeing pictures I have submitted for an assignment. These are:  “Alex, we are going to have to re-shoot this.

Here is an example of a self-re-shoot. Salem was happy to pose for me in my Mexican Puerto de Liverpool suit and smoke an H. Upmann cigar. But I did not like the look of white underwear so I asked her to pose again (on another day). Since I had to buy two cigars it was expensive.

The contacts to both sessions





Those Asparagaceae in Our Garden
Thursday, June 16, 2016




I always knew that one of my favourite plants and the one that got me into gardening, the hosta, was related to the agave and the yucca and this a plant related to tequila. But on a recent trip to VanDusen I noticed before I entered a sample of plants to note. There was a hosta and it was listed as being from the genus Asparagaceae. So I have investigated and MarieHarrison’s little essay is just right. And with that as an excuse I can run theses photographs of Salem with Hosta montana ‘Aureo Marginata’.

Hosta an Asparagaceae? Are You Kidding?

by Marie Harrison (can2grow) January 7, 2014

Several shifts in taxonomy in recent years have sent those of us who try to keep abreast with such changes into a tailspin. Some of the most surprising changes have happened in the Asparagaceae family.

Changes were brought to my attention while writing outlines for Symposia for National Garden Clubs. I had decided to teach the Asparagaceae family to flower show judges. My research of Asparagaceae led to some unexpected revelations. I learned that several genera were in this family other than Asparagus; notably Agave, Chlorophytum, Cordyline, Dracaena, Hyacinthus, Ophiopogon, Liriope, Sansevieria, Yucca, Hosta, and about 116 other species.

Hosta? Really? You’ve got to be kidding! How is it that such seemingly diverse genera are in the same family? Formerly, Hosta was a member of the Liliaceae (lily) family, and then it was assigned its own family, the Hostaceae. Some taxonomists place Hosta in the Agavaceae family. My goodness!

How did this all evolve? Formerly, most taxonomic systems were based on morphology, or the form and structure of a plant. Newer models are molecularly based systems which more accurately reflect the phylogeny (evolutionary descent) of a plant. None of the above assignments were wrong; they were just different and based on the most accurate and reliable information available at the time. Scientists have learned that Hosta and Asparagus share a common ancestor.

I learned the ranks of plants by memorizing this sentence: King David cried, “Oh, for goodness sake!” K is for kingdom, D for division, C for class, O for order, G for genus, and S is for species. These ranks have been significantly changed in the APG III system. Now the rankings are clade, order, family, genus, and species. A clade is a taxonomic group comprising a single common ancestor and all the descendants of that ancestor. Clades within clades, or nested clades, are included. This arrangement helps to show the origin of each species as part of a very large Tree of Life, starting with the first single-celled organisms and including all life forms.

The Asparagaceae family belongs to the clade monocot and the order Asparagales, which has only recently been recognized with the advent of phylogenetics. Older classification systems placed many of the species now within the order Asparagales into the lily family. The recently added Asparagales order contains 14 families, including Amaryllidaceae, Asparagaceae, Asteliaceae, Blandfordiaceae, Boryaceae, Doryanthaceae, Hypoxidaceae, Iridaceae, Ixioliriaceae, Lanariaceae, Orchidaceae, Tecophilaeaceae, Xanthorrhoeaceae, and Xeronemataceae. Within the 14 families are about 1,122 genera and 26,070 species. The Asparagaceae family contains about 126 genera, including Hosta, Sansevieria, and many others.



El simulacro - Jorge Luís Borges
Wednesday, June 15, 2016




El cuento El simulacro de Jorge Luís Borges, uno de los cuentos en mi copia de el hacedor es un cuento gótico y fantástico. Es extraño a mis hojos. Los que aún son militantes (y son muchos) en lo que refiere a todo lo que fue Perón y Evita consideran este cuento una barrabasada. Para mí, más neutro en mis opiniones del peronismo es un cuento formidable que me desquilibra. A continuación aquí está el cuento en castellano y en inglés.

El simulacro, a story by Jorge Luís Borges is one of the stories in my copy of his El hacedor. It is both Gothic and fantastic. The Gothic part in my mind is unique in this story as I don’t think there may be any others. Those who still see Perón and Evita’s regime favourably, and there are many consider el simulacro to be ample proof that Borges deplored Perón and his companion/wife. I am not all that sure but then while I lived the years of Perón and Evita until just before his fall I look at it with some element of neutrality. But every time I read this I feel uncomfortable and unsettled. Below you will find the story in Spanish and in English.


EL SIMULACRO – Jorge Luis Borges

        En uno de los días de julio de 1952, el enlutado apareció en aquel pueblito del Chaco. Era alto, flaco, aindiado, con una cara inexpresiva de opa o de máscara; la gente lo trataba con deferencia, no por él sino por el que representaba o ya era. Eligió un rancho cerca del río; con la ayuda de unas vecinas, armó una tabla sobre dos caballetes y encima una caja de cartón con una muñeca de pelo rubio. Además, encendieron cuatro velas en candeleros altos y pusieron flores alrededor. La gente no tardó en acudir. Viejas desesperadas, chicos atónitos, peones que se quitaban con respeto el casco de corcho, desfilaban ante la caja y repetían: Mi sentido pésame, General. Este, muy compungido, los recibía junto a la cabecera, las manos cruzadas sobre el vientre, como mujer encinta. Alargaba la derecha para estrechar la mano que le tendían y contestaba con entereza y resignación: Era el destino. Se ha hecho todo lo humanamente posible. Una alcancía de lata recibía la cuota de dos pesos y a muchos no les bastó venir una sola vez.
        ¿Qué suerte de hombre (me pregunto) ideó y ejecutó esa fúnebre farsa? ¿Un fanático, un triste, un alucinado o un impostor y un cínico? ¿Creía ser Perón al representar su doliente papel de viudo macabro? La historia es increíble pero ocurrió y acaso no una vez sino muchas, con distintos actores y con diferencias locales. En ella está la cifra perfecta de una época irreal y es como el reflejo de un sueño o como aquel drama en el drama, que se ve en Hamlet. El enlutado no era Perón y la muñeca rubia no era la mujer Eva Duarte, pero tampoco Perón era Perón ni Eva era Eva sino desconocidos o anónimos (cuyo nombre secreto y cuyo rostro verdadero ignoramos) que figuraron, para el crédulo amor de los arrabales, una crasa mitología.

Borges’s “El simulacro”

Borges, Jorge Luis. Collected Fictions. Translated by Andrew Hurley. New York, New York: Penguin Putnam Inc., 1998. 301-302:

One day in July, 1952, the man dressed in mourning weeds appeared in that little village on the Chaco River. He was a tall, thin man with vaguely Indian features and the inexpressive face of a half-wit or a mask. The townsfolk treated him with some deference, not because of who he was but because of the personage he was portraying or had by now become. He chose a house near the river; with the help of some neighbor women he laid a board across two sawhorses, and on it he set a pasteboard coffin with a blond-haired mannequin inside. In addition, they lighted four candles in tall candleholders and put flowers all around. The townsfolk soon began to gather. Old ladies bereft of hope, dumbstruck wide-eyed boys, peons who respectfully took off their pith hats — they filed past the coffin and said: My condolences, General. The man in mourning sat sorrowfully at the head of the coffin, his hands crossed over his belly like a pregnant woman. He would extend his right hand to shake the hand extended to him and answer with courage and resignation: It was fate. Everything humanly possible was done. A tin collection box received the two-peso price of admission, and many could not content themselves with a single visit.

What kind of man, I ask myself, thought up and then acted out that funereal farce — a fanatic? a grief-stricken mourner? a madman? a cynical impostor? Did he, in acting out his mournful role as the macabre widower, believe himself to be Perón? It is an incredible story, but it actually happened — and perhaps not once but many times, with different actors and local variants. In it, one can see the perfect symbol of an unreal time, and it is like the reflection of a dream or like that play within a play in Hamlet. The man in mourning was not Perón and the blond-haired mannequin was not the woman Eva Duarte, but then Perón was not Perón, either, nor was Eva, Eva — they were unknown or anonymous persons (whose secret name and true face we shall never know) who acted out, for the credulous love of the working class, a crass and ignoble mythology.



Rosemary, Kebek & Centaurea cyanus
Tuesday, June 14, 2016



Centaurea cyanus - June 14 2016


My wife Rosemary was born in a very small town, New Dublin, Ontario that had two churches, one churchyard and not much else, but a nearby farm had horses. As soon as she was able she left town with a scholarship for Queens and never returned. We met in 1968 in Mexico City when she was 23. I was attracted to her blonde hair and her beautiful and long legs. Little was I to know then that I had married a snob.

It may have begun when she told me to pronounce Quebec as Kebek.

Since 1968 I have realized that I married someone with extremely good taste and that some might consider her to be uppity. That is not really the case as she is fundamentally very shy.

She became a full blown snob when we moved to our large corner garden house on Athlone Street in 1986. She joined the finest garden clubs in town and developed a taste for botanical Latin (and Greek). She has this special talent of being able to recognize a plant this year that will be in high demand the next.

For many years she banished orange, yellow and red from our garden. For any plant to be worthwhile it had to have blue or white flowers.

As soon as I showed interest in roses (she lost interest) and transferred her loyalty to hardy geraniums, the ones with blue flowers.

Then one day we saw a rose at Janet Wood’s (former head of the Vancouver Rose Society) called Rosa ‘Mrs Oakley Fisher’. It was not a hybrid tea (Rosemary sees these as low brow roses, and so do I!). This single (five petals) yellow rose was a Tea Rose therefore Kosher in our garden. So yellow entered our garden.

Then Brad Jalbert of Select Roses in Langley recommended (after ranting and raving) Rosa ‘Westerland’. It is a modern shrub rose that is orange and it has the scent (to my nose) of synthetic apricot jam. Orange entered our garden as well as many deep red roses. But blue is paramount.

Today I noticed this intense blue bachelor’s button (Centaurea cyanus). It is an annual. Perennials are okay with Rosemary and annuals are usually not. But when they happen to have blue flowers…



     

Previous Posts
Sandrine Cassini On My Red Psychiatric Couch

The Paris Opera Ballet & Alonso King Lines Ballet

Sandrine Cassini - A Soon-to-be Visit by an Appari...

The Clubhouse On Second

Sound Holes

Faded - Recovered - Scanned - Delight

El Absurdo Infinito

Miss D, My Chickering Baby Grand & Fuji FP-100C

Lee Lytton III & Friendly & Warm Ghosts

San Valentín



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1/15/12 - 1/22/12

1/22/12 - 1/29/12

1/29/12 - 2/5/12

2/5/12 - 2/12/12

2/12/12 - 2/19/12

2/19/12 - 2/26/12

2/26/12 - 3/4/12

3/4/12 - 3/11/12

3/11/12 - 3/18/12

3/18/12 - 3/25/12

3/25/12 - 4/1/12

4/1/12 - 4/8/12

4/8/12 - 4/15/12

4/15/12 - 4/22/12

4/22/12 - 4/29/12

4/29/12 - 5/6/12

5/6/12 - 5/13/12

5/13/12 - 5/20/12

5/20/12 - 5/27/12

5/27/12 - 6/3/12

6/3/12 - 6/10/12

6/10/12 - 6/17/12

6/17/12 - 6/24/12

6/24/12 - 7/1/12

7/1/12 - 7/8/12

7/8/12 - 7/15/12

7/15/12 - 7/22/12

7/22/12 - 7/29/12

7/29/12 - 8/5/12

8/5/12 - 8/12/12

8/12/12 - 8/19/12

8/19/12 - 8/26/12

8/26/12 - 9/2/12

9/2/12 - 9/9/12

9/9/12 - 9/16/12

9/16/12 - 9/23/12

9/23/12 - 9/30/12

9/30/12 - 10/7/12

10/7/12 - 10/14/12

10/14/12 - 10/21/12

10/21/12 - 10/28/12

10/28/12 - 11/4/12

11/4/12 - 11/11/12

11/11/12 - 11/18/12

11/18/12 - 11/25/12

11/25/12 - 12/2/12

12/2/12 - 12/9/12

12/9/12 - 12/16/12

12/16/12 - 12/23/12

12/23/12 - 12/30/12

12/30/12 - 1/6/13

1/6/13 - 1/13/13

1/13/13 - 1/20/13

1/20/13 - 1/27/13

1/27/13 - 2/3/13

2/3/13 - 2/10/13

2/10/13 - 2/17/13

2/17/13 - 2/24/13

2/24/13 - 3/3/13

3/3/13 - 3/10/13

3/10/13 - 3/17/13

3/17/13 - 3/24/13

3/24/13 - 3/31/13

3/31/13 - 4/7/13

4/7/13 - 4/14/13

4/14/13 - 4/21/13

4/21/13 - 4/28/13

4/28/13 - 5/5/13

5/5/13 - 5/12/13

5/12/13 - 5/19/13

5/19/13 - 5/26/13

5/26/13 - 6/2/13

6/2/13 - 6/9/13

6/9/13 - 6/16/13

6/16/13 - 6/23/13

6/23/13 - 6/30/13

6/30/13 - 7/7/13

7/7/13 - 7/14/13

7/14/13 - 7/21/13

7/21/13 - 7/28/13

7/28/13 - 8/4/13

8/4/13 - 8/11/13

8/11/13 - 8/18/13

8/18/13 - 8/25/13

8/25/13 - 9/1/13

9/1/13 - 9/8/13

9/8/13 - 9/15/13

9/15/13 - 9/22/13

9/22/13 - 9/29/13

9/29/13 - 10/6/13

10/6/13 - 10/13/13

10/13/13 - 10/20/13

10/20/13 - 10/27/13

10/27/13 - 11/3/13

11/3/13 - 11/10/13

11/10/13 - 11/17/13

11/17/13 - 11/24/13

11/24/13 - 12/1/13

12/1/13 - 12/8/13

12/8/13 - 12/15/13

12/15/13 - 12/22/13

12/22/13 - 12/29/13

12/29/13 - 1/5/14

1/5/14 - 1/12/14

1/12/14 - 1/19/14

1/19/14 - 1/26/14

1/26/14 - 2/2/14

2/2/14 - 2/9/14

2/9/14 - 2/16/14

2/16/14 - 2/23/14

2/23/14 - 3/2/14

3/2/14 - 3/9/14

3/9/14 - 3/16/14

3/16/14 - 3/23/14

3/23/14 - 3/30/14

3/30/14 - 4/6/14

4/6/14 - 4/13/14

4/13/14 - 4/20/14

4/20/14 - 4/27/14

4/27/14 - 5/4/14

5/4/14 - 5/11/14

5/11/14 - 5/18/14

5/18/14 - 5/25/14

5/25/14 - 6/1/14

6/1/14 - 6/8/14

6/8/14 - 6/15/14

6/15/14 - 6/22/14

6/22/14 - 6/29/14

6/29/14 - 7/6/14

7/6/14 - 7/13/14

7/13/14 - 7/20/14

7/20/14 - 7/27/14

7/27/14 - 8/3/14

8/3/14 - 8/10/14

8/10/14 - 8/17/14

8/17/14 - 8/24/14

8/24/14 - 8/31/14

8/31/14 - 9/7/14

9/7/14 - 9/14/14

9/14/14 - 9/21/14

9/21/14 - 9/28/14

9/28/14 - 10/5/14

10/5/14 - 10/12/14

10/12/14 - 10/19/14

10/19/14 - 10/26/14

10/26/14 - 11/2/14

11/2/14 - 11/9/14

11/9/14 - 11/16/14

11/16/14 - 11/23/14

11/23/14 - 11/30/14

11/30/14 - 12/7/14

12/7/14 - 12/14/14

12/14/14 - 12/21/14

12/21/14 - 12/28/14

12/28/14 - 1/4/15

1/4/15 - 1/11/15

1/11/15 - 1/18/15

1/18/15 - 1/25/15

1/25/15 - 2/1/15

2/1/15 - 2/8/15

2/8/15 - 2/15/15

2/15/15 - 2/22/15

2/22/15 - 3/1/15

3/1/15 - 3/8/15

3/8/15 - 3/15/15

3/15/15 - 3/22/15

3/22/15 - 3/29/15

3/29/15 - 4/5/15

4/5/15 - 4/12/15

4/12/15 - 4/19/15

4/19/15 - 4/26/15

4/26/15 - 5/3/15

5/3/15 - 5/10/15

5/10/15 - 5/17/15

5/17/15 - 5/24/15

5/24/15 - 5/31/15

5/31/15 - 6/7/15

6/7/15 - 6/14/15

6/14/15 - 6/21/15

6/21/15 - 6/28/15

6/28/15 - 7/5/15

7/5/15 - 7/12/15

7/12/15 - 7/19/15

7/19/15 - 7/26/15

7/26/15 - 8/2/15

8/2/15 - 8/9/15

8/9/15 - 8/16/15

8/16/15 - 8/23/15

8/23/15 - 8/30/15

8/30/15 - 9/6/15

9/6/15 - 9/13/15

9/13/15 - 9/20/15

9/20/15 - 9/27/15

9/27/15 - 10/4/15

10/4/15 - 10/11/15

10/18/15 - 10/25/15

10/25/15 - 11/1/15

11/1/15 - 11/8/15

11/8/15 - 11/15/15

11/15/15 - 11/22/15

11/22/15 - 11/29/15

11/29/15 - 12/6/15

12/6/15 - 12/13/15

12/13/15 - 12/20/15

12/20/15 - 12/27/15

12/27/15 - 1/3/16

1/3/16 - 1/10/16

1/10/16 - 1/17/16

1/31/16 - 2/7/16

2/7/16 - 2/14/16

2/14/16 - 2/21/16

2/21/16 - 2/28/16

2/28/16 - 3/6/16

3/6/16 - 3/13/16

3/13/16 - 3/20/16

3/20/16 - 3/27/16

3/27/16 - 4/3/16

4/3/16 - 4/10/16

4/10/16 - 4/17/16

4/17/16 - 4/24/16

4/24/16 - 5/1/16

5/1/16 - 5/8/16

5/8/16 - 5/15/16

5/15/16 - 5/22/16

5/22/16 - 5/29/16

5/29/16 - 6/5/16

6/5/16 - 6/12/16

6/12/16 - 6/19/16

6/19/16 - 6/26/16

6/26/16 - 7/3/16

7/3/16 - 7/10/16

7/10/16 - 7/17/16

7/17/16 - 7/24/16

7/24/16 - 7/31/16

7/31/16 - 8/7/16

8/7/16 - 8/14/16

8/14/16 - 8/21/16

8/21/16 - 8/28/16

8/28/16 - 9/4/16

9/4/16 - 9/11/16

9/11/16 - 9/18/16

9/18/16 - 9/25/16

9/25/16 - 10/2/16

10/2/16 - 10/9/16

10/9/16 - 10/16/16

10/16/16 - 10/23/16

10/23/16 - 10/30/16

10/30/16 - 11/6/16

11/6/16 - 11/13/16

11/13/16 - 11/20/16

11/20/16 - 11/27/16

11/27/16 - 12/4/16

12/4/16 - 12/11/16

12/11/16 - 12/18/16

12/18/16 - 12/25/16

12/25/16 - 1/1/17

1/1/17 - 1/8/17

1/8/17 - 1/15/17

1/15/17 - 1/22/17

1/22/17 - 1/29/17

1/29/17 - 2/5/17

2/5/17 - 2/12/17

2/12/17 - 2/19/17

2/19/17 - 2/26/17

2/26/17 - 3/5/17

3/5/17 - 3/12/17