Editor's Note: About the Author
Today's poet , Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin (1799 –1837) was a Russian author of the Romantic era who is considered by many to be the greatest Russian poet and the founder of modern Russian literature. Born into the Russian nobility in Moscow, Pushkin published his first poem at the age of fifteen, and was widely recognized by the literary establishment by the time of his graduation. Notoriously touchy about his honor, Pushkin fought a total of twenty-nine duels, and was fatally wounded in such an encounter with Georges-Charles de Heeckeren d'Anthès. D'Anthès, a French officer serving with the Chevalier Guard Regiment (and his brother-in-law), had been attempting to seduce the poet's wife, Natalya Pushkin. Pushkin's early death at the age of 37 after being shot in the spleen during the duel is still regarded as a catastrophe for Russian literature.
Today's poet , Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin (1799 –1837) was a Russian author of the Romantic era who is considered by many to be the greatest Russian poet and the founder of modern Russian literature. Born into the Russian nobility in Moscow, Pushkin published his first poem at the age of fifteen, and was widely recognized by the literary establishment by the time of his graduation. Notoriously touchy about his honor, Pushkin fought a total of twenty-nine duels, and was fatally wounded in such an encounter with Georges-Charles de Heeckeren d'Anthès. D'Anthès, a French officer serving with the Chevalier Guard Regiment (and his brother-in-law), had been attempting to seduce the poet's wife, Natalya Pushkin. Pushkin's early death at the age of 37 after being shot in the spleen during the duel is still regarded as a catastrophe for Russian literature.
" The Flower"
Alexander Pushkin(translated)
Forgotten on a page - I see,
And instantly my soul awakens,
Filled with an aimless reverie:
When did it bloom? the last spring? earlier?
How long? Where was it plucked? By whom?
By foreign hands? or by familiar?
And why put here, as in a tomb?
To mark a tender meeting by it?
A parting with a precious one?
Or just a walk, alone and quiet,
In forests' shade? in meadows' sun?
Is she alive? Is he still with her?
Where is their haven at this hour?
Or did they both already wither,
Like this unfathomable flower?
- JUST BLOOMED TODAY
- GARDEN UPDATE
- FLOWERS ARE MEMORIES
- FAUNA
- GARDEN GIGGLE
- GARDEN GAMES
- FEEDBACK
JUST BLOOMED TODAY
GARDEN UPDATE
The heat has been pretty bearable, and when that happens we can enjoy our garden so much more. I am sad to see that my stocks are coming to an end and all the tulips are gone, as the season marches on; but I am looking forward to the lilies, then the glads and sunflowers, and then the big job of all the fruits.
FLOWERS ARE MEMORIES
One of the things I have been wanting to wax poetic on is the emotional aspect of a garden. I was talking to my sister Virginia today and I mentioned how grateful I was for a space like we are blessed with today.
It doesn't really matter how many gardening credentials you have or if you are simply a lover of flowers and pretty things; whether you spend a ton of money on your garden, or swap seeds from others; whether you can afford a gardener to do it for you or whether you take pleasure in doing it yourself, there is something for everyone in a garden.
I think the best thing about a garden is that everyone gets something different from it. God has blessed the world with so much beauty, and all you have to do is open your eyes and see it.
The emotional aspects of gardening and nature cannot be overlooked. What is the cost of a smile brought on by the sight of a beautiful flower? Or the happy memory of a childhood garden? Your first corsage for prom, or your first delivered flowers?
So many emotions are tied to nature and especially flowers. The honeysuckle can immediately send me back to childhood, building giant bird nests from the cut branches with my little sister in our backyard while Dad smoked his pipe and Mom brought in the laundry, warm and sweet-smelling from the clothesline.
Or my aqua blue carnation prom corsage, where I had to ask the guy (the first one cancelled at the last minute). How my 'date' was so nervous he couldn't pin on the corsage, so he fumblingly gave it to me to pin on myself. (The pin poked me all night long, and bled through the inside of my gown.)
The stocks and carnations my Mom would buy for my Dad's and Grandparent's gravestones. How she would lovingly clean off the gravestones and send me to fill up the jar with water so the flowers would last longer. When we left, it looked like somebody cared. I'm happy to say now that my Mom has finally joined my Dad in heaven my sister Betty has carried on that tradition with my parents and grandparent's gravestones, bringing her famous sweet peas for them to remember. They were Mom's favorite. And my little sister and I standing at our little brother's grave, strewing rose petals and promises of forever love to a little brother we never got to know.
The wedding flowers of a bouquet; the shy present of an admirer; the flowers that came at my Father's funeral, signaling an end to my youth and innocence.
The delicate tea cup and saucer, china-painted in soft hues, holding REAL violets, sent to me by a co-worker when I was going through a really rough time, that simply said, "thinking of you". No one really understands how important that was to me that day, and still.
My sister's sharing of their gardens every time they come to my home. I am blessed with their garden glories to enjoy in my home. While in the past, they have had flowers sent to me, the ones I treasure the most are from their hand.
How my dearest husband used to bring me flowers every week at a job I was struggling in. Or just bringing me beautiful flowers, on so many countless occasions, just because he was thinking of me, and wanted me to remember how special I am to him. How he and our son would go out for breakfast on the weekends on the motorcycle and leave me the morning to sleep in...only to return, yellow roses lovingly tucked between them on the bike.
These are but a few ramblings of my flower memories. I am sure when you think back, there are quite a few of your own. Take my advice and take those memories out every once in a while and dust them off and relive them all over again...like a garden, it is good for the soul.
GARDEN GIGGLE
The heat has been pretty bearable, and when that happens we can enjoy our garden so much more. I am sad to see that my stocks are coming to an end and all the tulips are gone, as the season marches on; but I am looking forward to the lilies, then the glads and sunflowers, and then the big job of all the fruits.
FLOWERS ARE MEMORIES
One of the things I have been wanting to wax poetic on is the emotional aspect of a garden. I was talking to my sister Virginia today and I mentioned how grateful I was for a space like we are blessed with today.
It doesn't really matter how many gardening credentials you have or if you are simply a lover of flowers and pretty things; whether you spend a ton of money on your garden, or swap seeds from others; whether you can afford a gardener to do it for you or whether you take pleasure in doing it yourself, there is something for everyone in a garden.
I think the best thing about a garden is that everyone gets something different from it. God has blessed the world with so much beauty, and all you have to do is open your eyes and see it.
The emotional aspects of gardening and nature cannot be overlooked. What is the cost of a smile brought on by the sight of a beautiful flower? Or the happy memory of a childhood garden? Your first corsage for prom, or your first delivered flowers?
So many emotions are tied to nature and especially flowers. The honeysuckle can immediately send me back to childhood, building giant bird nests from the cut branches with my little sister in our backyard while Dad smoked his pipe and Mom brought in the laundry, warm and sweet-smelling from the clothesline.
Or my aqua blue carnation prom corsage, where I had to ask the guy (the first one cancelled at the last minute). How my 'date' was so nervous he couldn't pin on the corsage, so he fumblingly gave it to me to pin on myself. (The pin poked me all night long, and bled through the inside of my gown.)
The stocks and carnations my Mom would buy for my Dad's and Grandparent's gravestones. How she would lovingly clean off the gravestones and send me to fill up the jar with water so the flowers would last longer. When we left, it looked like somebody cared. I'm happy to say now that my Mom has finally joined my Dad in heaven my sister Betty has carried on that tradition with my parents and grandparent's gravestones, bringing her famous sweet peas for them to remember. They were Mom's favorite. And my little sister and I standing at our little brother's grave, strewing rose petals and promises of forever love to a little brother we never got to know.
The wedding flowers of a bouquet; the shy present of an admirer; the flowers that came at my Father's funeral, signaling an end to my youth and innocence.
The delicate tea cup and saucer, china-painted in soft hues, holding REAL violets, sent to me by a co-worker when I was going through a really rough time, that simply said, "thinking of you". No one really understands how important that was to me that day, and still.
My sister's sharing of their gardens every time they come to my home. I am blessed with their garden glories to enjoy in my home. While in the past, they have had flowers sent to me, the ones I treasure the most are from their hand.
How my dearest husband used to bring me flowers every week at a job I was struggling in. Or just bringing me beautiful flowers, on so many countless occasions, just because he was thinking of me, and wanted me to remember how special I am to him. How he and our son would go out for breakfast on the weekends on the motorcycle and leave me the morning to sleep in...only to return, yellow roses lovingly tucked between them on the bike.
These are but a few ramblings of my flower memories. I am sure when you think back, there are quite a few of your own. Take my advice and take those memories out every once in a while and dust them off and relive them all over again...like a garden, it is good for the soul.
GARDEN GIGGLE
On the first day, God created the dog and said, "Sit all day by the door of your house and bark at anyone who comes in or walks past. For this, I will give you a life span of twenty years."
The dog said, "That's a long time to be barking. How about only ten years and I'll give you back the other ten?"
And God said that it was good.
On the second day, God created the monkey and said, "Entertain people, do tricks, and make them laugh. For this, I'll give you a twenty-year life span."
The monkey said, "Monkey tricks for twenty years? That's a pretty long time to perform. How about I give you back ten like the dog did?"
And God, again said that it was good.
On the third day, God created the cow and said, "You must go into the field with the farmer all day long and suffer under the sun, have calves and give milk to support the farmer's family. For this, I will give you a life span of sixty years."
The cow said, "That's kind of a tough life you want me to live for sixty years. How about twenty and I'll give back the other forty?"
And God agreed it was good.
On the fourth day, God created humans and said, "Eat, sleep, play, marry and enjoy your life. For this, I'll give you twenty years."
But the human said, "Only twenty years? Could you possibly give me my twenty, the forty the cow gave back, the ten the monkey gave back, and the ten the dog gave back; that makes eighty, okay?"
"Okay," said God, "You asked for it."
So that is why for our first twenty years, we eat, sleep, play and enjoy ourselves. For the next forty years, we slave in the sun to support our family. For the next ten years, we do monkey tricks to entertain the grandchildren. And for the last ten years, we sit on the front porch and bark at everyone.
Life has now been explained to you.
There is no need to thank me for this valuable information. I'm doing it as a public service. If you are looking for me I will be on the front porch.
1 comment:
I'll be on the porch waiting for you.
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