An attempt at poetry. Comments and crits always appreciated.
One part of living in this country I really love? Seeing daffodils growing. It’s one of the first flowers I noticed when I arrived in March 2009, when the sky was still gray but greenery was beginning to return and flowers were starting to bloom. Daffodils of course being bright yellow are relentlessly cheerful flowers, and seem a perfect sign that winter is on its way out and spring and warmth are just about to arrive. This shot I took of them is on Parker’s Piece in Cambridge, but I’ll soon have a picture of the ones I planted in a pot outside the back door and in the garden too, because I unreasonably proud of them (unreasonably because they are just so easy to plant – into ground, and months later, up they come!)
We leaned in close, or bent our heads over the display cases, eyes as close as we could to the glass so see the detail of the art work. The small gallery was quiet, reverent, only disrupted when some other museum visitors crashed through the doors with only the Vermeer exhibition in mind. They soon left us, and the floral art of Redouté and his pupils, in peace.
The details of the flowers and leaves were lovely, and not just those – you could often see the tiny legs of the settling butterflies and lady birds. I enjoyed seeing not only his work but also his students – there was one piece called Sprays of lilac which was both precise and incredibly soft.
We did also go and see the Vermeer exhibition and the collection of treasures from the Hapsburg’s, both very interesting, but the Redouté has inspired me for a new short piece. Which is both frustrating but rewarding – assuming I can write it the way I’m currently envisioning it. Something with the delicacy of touch and how something so simple as that can be stunningly sexy. We’ll see.