Tulip 2 May 2022

The Tulip - Emily Dickinson

SHE slept beneath a tree

Remembered but by me.

I touched her cradle mute;

She recognized the foot,

Put on her carmine suit,–

And see!

The dechronization of a tulip

A red tulip - a forlorn hope

My neighbourhood Tulpengekte

This spring seems to have lots of grey days which make them melancholic. Fortunately there are three activities that cheer me up.

One of them is my daily walk with Niño around the block and anything else related to him and his sister Niña.

Second is writing my daily blog. 

A very pleasant third is to look around the garden to see what plant or flower I can scan. The roses are not out yet but many of Rosemary’s bulbs are in bloom. I wrote about one of them here.

The practice of scanning the plants from our garden began in 2001 and I have now collected over a thousand of them all saved in two exterior drives. I scan my plants at 100% size, I am careful to make sure the colours are accurate and the date of the day helps in comparing how a plant or flower develops through a season and the years.

But verboten until now were the flowers from other  gardens unless I first asked for permission.

That ended yesterday when I spotted a lovely tulip in a neighbour’s garden. I did not see myself asking permission to snip it. So I did snip it, I scanned it and then this morning I presented the tulip’s owner with a print. She was overwhelmed and happy.

More Emily Dickinson

Nor would I be a poet 

November left then clambered up
You cannot make remembrance grow
November
the maple wears a gayer scarf