|Lilium 'Lollipop' 12 July 2021|
Before the Vancouver Rose Society members came to inspect my garden, during their yearly open garden extravaganza in the beginning of June, I tried to make the plants look as perfect as Rosemary would have wanted. With that event over, and now in mid-July and with all the heat, some of my hostas are becoming crisp in the sun and some of the roses are past it until later in the season while the once-blooming ones I must prune now.
But I have been hit by a desire to scan, as if there were no tomorrow, every worthy plant I notice. I do not feel any compunction in cutting a perfect rose bloom as nobody besides me will see it.
While scanning has become, with my daily blog (I am back to writing one every day), my routine of the day, I am partially thwarted by the fact that my Epson scanner glass has some scratches and there are smudges on the inside of the glass This is caused by the heat of the unit vaporizing solvents from the plastics. But I can fix all that with Photoshop. As soon as the scanning season wanes I will have the glass changed.
Any who may occasionally peruse this blog may have noticed that my scans are now becoming not only more frequent but I am finding other scanning methods that are headed into “artistic” territory.
But it is fun.
Today I cut Rosemary’s Lilium ‘Lollipop’ to scan it. I did not feel sad as my scan (three different ones) will do justice to her choice and the scans make me smile as I am sure that Rosemary was attracted to the lily’s name.
For me her lily has a connection with Argentine poet Alfonsina Storni who was a proto-feminist poet of the 20th century who committed suicide by drowning in 1938. I have written about her here and here is a poem in English mentioning the lily. In my book in Spanish she mentions the lirio (lily) many times. One of her most beautiful poems is the one below that has no translation into English.
Lirios, lirios, más lirios... llueven lirios...
La noche es blanca como la ilusión
y flota la dulzura del perdón
sobre el llanto de todos los martirios.
Hay una vaga claridad de cirios...
La luna es una hostia en comunión
y el alma se recoge con unción
castigada por todos los delirios.
Y es bajo el claro de la luna suave
cuando el poeta que medita sabe
las tristezas enormes de Pierrot.
Y cuando le asesina la agonía
de las nostalgias blancas de María
y las nostalgias rojas de Margot.