A sepal, petal, and a thorn

Photograph — Alex Waterhouse-Hayward

A sepal, petal, and a thorn
Upon a common summer’s morn —
A flask of Dew — A Bee or two —
A Breeze — a caper in the trees —
Emily Dickinson


As I write this my year in Vancouver BC is winding down. It is December 31 (in spite of the date of the blog as I had some empty spaces) in a late afternoon and there is snow outside my oficina window. Rosemary and I will be starting a new year (with a whole year under our belt in our Kitsilano duplex). Rosemary has yet to completely let go of the sorrow in her of not being in our grand old house on Athlone with that big corner garden. As she struggles with a new pain of arthritis and a bad left knee I believe we may have taken the best route in moving to our smaller home.

We are beginning the new year with a brand new and lovely Chevrolet Cruze. We are still in grief at the loss of our erstwhile dependable Chevrolet Malibu. At least Rosemary never so its ignominious presence on a platform at Dueck’s when I went to retrieve stuff we had in the car. It almost reminded me of finding my female white cat, Polilla dead in our garden eviscerated by a raccoon a few years ago. She was not a pretty sight. I rapidly buried her and Rosemary never saw her.

Of the 85 plus roses we had in our old garden we now have 24 or 25. In the cold and what looks like a dying garden (which it isn’t) I hope for spring and the sight and scent of my roses.

The picture here is to remind me that at my age, when my body is winding down, the imagination, and that erotic one that I welcome even now, is still in play. I hope this coming year to shoot some more with the same kind of subtlety that old age showers on me and which I do appreciate and treasure.

Link to: ‘T were blessed to have see


More Emily Dickinson

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
Emily Dickinson’s White Dress & a Hunter of Lost Souls

El vestido blanco — The White Dress
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

Sleep is supposed to be
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/tell-truth-but-tell-it-slant.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/theres-certain-slant-of-light.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/then-mashes-it-to-death.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/06/adjusted-to-tomb.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/2011/12/dirk-commemorate-itself.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/lawful-as-equilibrium.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/there-is-no-frigate-like-book.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2011/12/light-is-sufficient-to-itself.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/11/thanatos-two-tiny-rhododendrons.html

http://blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com/2012/12/you-almost-bathed-your-tongue.html

Originally published at blog.alexwaterhousehayward.com.