Nobody picks a red rose
Monday, May 12, 2025
 | Rosa 'Sombreul' & Rosa 'Souvenir du Docteur Jamain" - 12 May 2025 |
Red and White
by Carl Sandburg
Nobody picks a red rose when the winter wind
howls and the white snow blows among the fences and storm
doors.
Nobody watches the dreamy sculptures of snow
when the summer roses blow red and soft in the garden yards
and corners.
O I have loved red roses and O I have loved white snow—
dreamy drifts winter and summer—roses and snow.
Today, a few days after Mother’s Day, I still feel
melancholy for all those mothers in my life, my abuelita, my mother and my
Rosemary who not only mothered two girls but often mothered me.
Hiding behind in my lane garden was an open Rosa ‘Souvenir
du Docteur Jamain’ and in my deck garden there was that white rose with yellow
undertones called Rosa ‘Sombreul’.
I find it elegantly appropriate that these two roses
share my scan. I have written about Rosa ‘Sombreul’ and how she is connected to
a woman who had to drink blood (or was it wine?) to save her father from the
guillotine. Blood or Wine?
A Snobbish Rododendron
Sunday, May 11, 2025
 | Rhododendron stenopetalum 'Linearifolium - 11 May 2025 |
Strange as it may seem the island of Rhodes is named after
the Greek word for rose or rhodon. Rhododendrons were perhaps given that name
because of a similarity to the colour of roses. But both rhodos and roses share
an inability to produce a pure blue flower.
I wrote about that here. The Kaponga Man
Because now there is a constant surprise of roses blooming
in my Kitsilano garden I thought I would give some of my other plants a chance
to show off. I now have only two rhododendrons. One is called Rhododendron
augustini ‘Marion MacDonnell’ and the second one is strange fellow as he does
not look like a rhododendron. It is Rhododenron stenopetalum ‘Linearifolium’. I scanned it with one of my most unusually
variegated hostas, Hosta ‘Snake Eyes’
Alleyne Cook’s very large Rhododendron augustinii ‘Marion McDonnell
is past its bloom a week ago. I miss this man and most of the other plantsmen
and plantswomen who were experts in that other century. Now when I want to ask a question about my roses
or hostas I look at myself in the mirror.
Yesterday I went to Lee Valley Tools to get metal plant
labels. Sometime in the beginning of June I will be opening my garden on a
weekend for the Vancouver Rose Society. I will make my splendid cucumber sandwiches accompanied my iced tea
from scratch.
Tomorrow Edward The Russian Handyman is coming to replace
the rotting slats on my deck.
As I get the garden ready I can sense my Rosemary behind
me reminding me of this or that.
Sursum Corda on Mother's Day
 | Rosemary Waterhouse-Hayward & Filomena de Irureta Goyena de Hayward with our daughter Ale in Veracruz 1968 |
Touched in my memory
In praise of a Jewish mother
There are next to no people that I know who knew my mother. One
of them was that other mother, my wife Rosemary.
They first met, before I married Rosemary in Veracruz, around Christmas 1967. From that point on
they became the best of friends and there never was that idea that my mother
was on of “those” mothers-in-law.
In 1972 my mother died in bed in our home in Arboledas,
Estado de México. Rosemary and I both heard her breathe in and then not breathe
out. In one of those strange Mexican happenings, we could not find a doctor
nearby so a veterinarian came over and said, “Está muertita.”
We were so poor that my mother’s funeral was paid for by
Rosemary’s parents. On her tombstone I had inscribed “Sursum Corda” something
that my mother would often tell me when I was depressed. It means in Latin,
from the Latin Mass, “Lift up your heart.”
I cannot stop here without mentioning that I became a
successful photographer in Vancouver because of the mentorship of three
mothers. They were my grandmother, my
mother and Rosemary.
The only mother left in my family is my Burnaby daughter
Hilary who today will have brunch with her two daughters.
I must add that in Spanish the word “matriz” stand for
womb. But it is also used as “casa matriz” or the headquarters of any company.
In Spanish we certainly know where we come from.
Two Bicycles & One More
Saturday, May 10, 2025
In my longish life I have only owned two bicycles.
My first one was given to me by my grandmother in Mexico
City in 1956. It was a Raleigh. My mother, who put the photograph here in our
album, did not date it but my guess is that it was near Christmas as I
was photographed with a Santa Claus and the instant picture taken was bought by my mother.
It was at that time, when on my birthday, someone insisted in
giving me a croquet game as a gift. I thought it was a game for girls. But with
my friends, we invented the game of bicycle polo using the croquet mallets and
the ball. We played the game on our street Sierra Madre which was in the nice
neighbourhood of Colonia Chapultepec. Across from my house were a couple of
boys that played with us. Their father had been a famous army general called
General Rincón Gallardo.
That Raleigh made itself all the way to Nueva Rosita,
Coahuila in 1957 when my mother was hired by American Smelting and Refining to
teach in a two room schoolhouse there to the children of the engineers and
employees of the company. My mother taught 8th, 7th and 6th
grade. I had the unusual bad luck of being in the 8th grade with
five other boys. She was hard on me.
One of the privileges of living in what was called la
Colonia Americana is that we were given horses to ride. My horse refused to do
anything leaving the stable. When I managed to get it a couple of miles into
the desert it would only then gallop home. I stopped using the horse and
accompanied my friends on their horses with my bike. I had a special liquid in
the inner tubes that instantly repaired the desert leaks caused by spiky
plants.
Once I got married in 1968 I found that while Rosemary could
do anything.One thing she could not do and had not done as a little girl was
ride a bicycle. That would explain why I did not have second bicycle until 7
years ago before we moved from Kerrisdale to our Kits duplex.
I made one mistake in my very nice Trek Bicycle which has a rubber belt instead of a chain. I bought it
(feeling very English) with only the famous (at one time) 3 gear Sturmy-Archer
hub.
Of late I cycle one hour every day. Those 3 gears mean I
have to put extra effort when I ride my bike on the steady uphill going West at
Point Grey Road. I take my Fuji cameras and shoot pictures. I ride all the way
to Jericho Beach and back. Now when I place my head on the pillow at night I go
to sleep instantly. This feels awfully good.
My daily bike ride, and going around the block with Niño,
have become something of a purpose and order in my day that still seems vacant
without the presence of my Rosemary. In the mid 80s I took a photograph of a cyclist (he pressed the shutter, not me) that I am most proud of as this was shot before Go-Pros existed. https://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2007/10/today-rebecca-lauren-rosemary-and-i.html  | Nelson McLachlan |
Obsessed - a burst of iris
Friday, May 09, 2025
 | Iris - 9 May 2025 |
Iris
by William Carlos Williams
a burst of iris so that
come down for
breakfast
we searched through the
rooms for
that
sweetest odor and at
first could not
find its
source then a blue as
of the sea
struck
startling us from among
those trumpeting
petals
In the last few days I have obsessively been scaning iris
in as many ways as I can. Today I went to a house on Point Grey Road and cut an
iris on the sidewalk flower bed. I returned two hours later with two printed
scans. Nobody answered the door. I returned twice after but I believe that the people
living in the opulent house must be on vacation.
In the past I have blogged many times on the iris. Below
are links to some of them.
Whispers of Passion Squeezing the juice from an iris A slash of blue Rosemary's Angel Wings
Iris Art for Myself Blue and lavender Iris Inspired by Georgia O'Keeffe T is iris sir Iris on my dinner plate Sweet Iris Iris
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