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| Rosemary's Crocus & Senecio cineraria 12 February 2022 |
When I wrote for publications I noticed a few shifts in style. Sometimes you could not write in first person and you had to be detached. Then you had to face editors who most of the time wanted you to shorten what you had written.
All that is behind me, as my blog is my personal publication. I am the publisher, editor (sometimes not a very good one) art director and illustrator (as a photographer). I write about what I want and at whatever length I might want.
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| Rosemary and Niña 23 August 2020 |
It was said that space in publications was limited and in the internet it is infinite.
I could put one photograph here and if I were working with an art director one of the three images would have been chosen.
But I want to write here of the process. When I spotted one of Rosemary’s crocuses on the back lane today which was pleasantly sunny, so Niño and I went for a walk, I had to find a reason to scan it as an excuse to write about my Rosemary. To write about her saddens me but somehow I am compelled to do it and I feel better after I press send on my blog.
The crocus, all by itself was lovely but to me it was a lonely image. So I brought into the mix one of Rosemary’s gray plants, Senecio cineraria which seems to look at its best all year. The scan with it looked pretty nice but I went for a third scan that I knew I could place here as a horizontal image.
I could not finish here without putting a photograph of Rosemary being accompanied by Niña.
The Mighty Crocus - Emily Dickinson
The feet of people walking home
With gayer sandals go-
The Crocus-till she rises
The Vassal of the snow-
The lips at Hallelujah
Long years of practise bore
Till bye and bye these Bargemen
Walked singing on the shore.
Pearls are the Diver’s farthings
Extorted from the sea-
Pinions-the Seraph’s wagon
Pedestrian once-as we-
Night is the morning’s Canvas
Larceny-legacy-
Death, but our rapt attention
To Immortality.
My figures fail to tel me
How far the Village lies-
Whose peasants are the Angels-
Whose Cantons dot the skies-
My Classics veil their faces-
My faith that Dark adores-
Which from its solemn abbeys
Such resurrection pours.
Emily Dickinson, 1858–#7
More Emily Dickinson
A Slash of Blue – Emily Dickinson
I cannot dance upon my Toes
a door just opened on the street
Amber slips away
Sleep
Pink Small and punctual
A slash of blue
I cannot dance upon my toes
Ah little rose
For hold them, blue to blue
The colour of the grave is green
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
