18 April, 2012 The Cruellest Month? Seriously?
Another title for this post could be “a little knowledge is dangerous.” I’ve dabbled in English enough to know the line “April is the cruellest month.” But I had to resort to wikipedia to learn it is the opening line to T.S. Eliot’s enormous 1922 poem The Waste Land. Further investigation reveals the final (434th!) line is “Shantih shantih shantih,“ Sanskrit for, if you will, “peace, peace, peace.” An April image from my backyard:
That’s a white lilac; the purple ones (more conventionally lilac colored, equally fragrant) finished before I got a picture. Leading to another April poem known to a person with a little knowledge of English: Walt Whitman’s 1865 When Lilacs Last in the Dooryard Bloom’d, his elegy after Lincoln’s assassination. Maybe then it was the cruelest month. But aren’t those lilacs stunning? You should smell them. Wow. It would be the cruelest month if it literally took your breath away.
Speaking of “a little knowledge,” I’ve put a caption on each picture. And whenever I save it, the caption disappears. By the next post I’ll have a little more knowledge and the captions will work. Stay tuned. Please! While I’m in this conversational tone, please put a comment at the end of the post (should you be so inclined) and give me a little feedback. I love to hear from readers. I hope I’m correct using the plural there!
The river’s staying high. Mid-river rock real estate is valuable. Just like valuable human real estate, it gets crowded. Location, location, location:
If you were in Richmond this fine Spring, you noticed that inchworms are not choosy about location; a muddy hand holding dog leashes is as fine as a country estate:
For me in this “cruel” month, the plant life steals the show, and not just the lilacs. Rosa multiflora is one I love each spring. The smell is not as powerful as a lilac, but it’s gentle and delicious and the flowers are wonderful:
When we were young (when my two brothers and two sisters and I were younger than we are now) we attended and worked at Camp Waredaca in Gaithersburg, MD for years and years. I think starting in the early seventies and continuing for so many years. We still go there often, although it’s a little different these days. We swam in a big lake and we’d walk down there barefoot and I’d often get clover stuck between my toes:
Some of these pictures are almost too close up; it almost makes them unrecognizable. But we all know what a dandelion and a clover and a buttercup look like, and these closeups are kind of fun:
Except for the lilac at the top, all the pictures on this post were taken at Pony Pasture. Including this old friend I found in the woods; it’s been a long time since I’ve seen ironwood:
I don’t know if it’s true but I’ve read it’s the only wood that sinks in water. It makes axes and saws very dull very quickly. All you have to do is put your hand on it and it’s easy to feel how dense it is. I also read they burned it in the old days and used the charcoal to make gunpowder. Carbon being the element that makes gunpowder black or gray.
I’ve got a ton of images piled up since it’s been about three weeks since I last put up a post. Thursday, April 5 was the 24th anniversary of my accident, a milestone I’m always grateful to reach. I plan to see a minimum of 24 more anniversaries and if I’m careful and fortunate, 24 more after that. But right now I’ll just see if I can make it through the next 24 hours! I hope yours is great too. Have a terrific day,