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| Hosta 'Rainbow's End' 29 August 2025 |
The rainbow never tells me – Emily Dickinson
The rainbow never tells me
That gust and storm are by,
Yet is she more convincing
Than Philosophy.
My flowers turn from Forums—
Yet eloquent declare
What Cato couldn't prove me
Except the birds were here!
Every year my many hostas insist I acknowledge them as to which one is the best. Hosta ‘Rainbow’s End’ has been awfully insistent. I have scanned it and its flowers many times.
In Spanish the word for rainbow is arcoíris which I rather like. I like it especially as I had an aunt in Argentina called Iris Hayward. We pronounced her name “eer-ees” as if it were in Spanish. She made especially good devilled eggs. Her husband was my father’s younger brother. He was called Freddy. We both smoked pipes.
It is the power of plants that make me associate this with that. And of course Emily Dickinson can be relied to have written something to do with the names of my plants. I now have more than 100 blogs where I link my photographs or scans with her poems. The links are below.
The Persistence of Memory - Emily Dickinson
When everything that ticked has stopped
All the Witchcraft that we need
It only gives our wish for blue
Rosemary white and a bit of yellow
November left then clambered up
You cannot make remembrance grow
November
the maple wears a gayer scarf
Just as green and as white
It's full as opera
I cannot dance upon my Toes
a door just opened on the street
Amber slips away
Sleep
When August burning low
Pink Small and punctual
A slash of blue
I cannot dance upon my toes
Ah little rose
For hold them, blue to blue
Linda Melsted - the music of the violin does not emerge alone
The Charm invests her face
A sepal, a petal and a thorn
The Savior must have been a docile Gentleman
T were blessed to have seen
There is no frigate like a book
I pay in satin cash
Water makes many beds
The viola da gamba
But sequence ravelled out of reach
A parasol is the umbrella's daughter
Without the power to die
Lessons on the piny
Ample make this bed
How happy is the little stone
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
