Helleborus x intermedia 'Blue Lady', her buds still held tightly closed against the cold.
Recently, I watched Garden Story
I’m not a poet, but her poetry, with its images of the garden, touched me. I especially loved this piece written for her dear friend and mentor, James Weldon Johnson, who was tragically killed in a car/train accident.
For Jim, Easter Eve
by Anne Spencer
If ever a garden was Gethsemane,
with old tombs set high against
the crumpled olive tree–and lichen,
this, my garden, has been to me.
For such as I none other is so sweet:
Lacking old tombs, here stands my grief,
and certainly its ancient tree.
Peace is here and in every season
a quiet beauty.
The sky falling about me
evenly to the compass . . .
What is sorrow but tenderness now
in this earth-close frame of land and sky
falling constantly into horizons
of east and west, north and south;
what is pain but happiness here
amid these green and wordless patterns,–
indefinite texture of blade and leaf:
Beauty of an old, old tree,
last comfort in Gethsemane.
Although it isn’t Garden Bloggers’ Muse Day, which I missed, this is my contribution. Yes, I thought about saving it for March, but this is Black History Month in the U.S. and Canada, so . . . . Instead, I think it’s appropriate for Lent where we yearn for Easter and spring, but we and the plants still need this quiet time to grow. I hope you enjoy it as much as I.
Yes, hellebores!!! As many as possible. Lots of seedlings to share with friends and strangers. Come and get them!
Such a beautiful poem and post for Lent, Dee. On this snowy winter’s day, thanks for warming my soul 🙂
Thank you Joey.~~Dee
That’s a very touching poem and as you mentioned, very fitting for Lent. I’ll have to read up on Anne Spencer, thanks for introducing her to me.
MMD, glad you liked her work.~~Dee
Thank you for mentioning Anne Spencer and her garden. In a state well known for its many historic gardens, it is a shame that this is the only one widely celebrating an African American garden.
Of course many of the more famous gardens may as well be African American in origin. The older ones (including Monticello and Mount Vernon) were built and planted by slave labor, and the newer ones likely had many an African American working in them. Yet, you don’t always hear about their contributions, voluntary or otherwise.
What a beautiful poem! I have some hellebores I bought last year at Blue Moon Nursery. They’re finally starting to bloom. Such pretty blooms, but they point down. So it’s hard to see their faces.
Brenda
Yup, Brenda, I practically have to stand on my head to see mine, but it’s worth it. 🙂 ~~Dee
That poem is so poignant … thank you for sharing it.
I just love this poem Dee. I am so glad you brought all of these treasures to our attention. I had read an article in a gardening magazine about Ann Spencer last year. I don’t remember which magazine but they had a picture of her garden. I has been renovated to as it was during her life time there. I kept that piece for a long time thinking I would seek out her writing but failed to do so. She was a wonderful writer.
Lisa, it’s not easy to find much of her writing. She was published in a couple of collections, and I think there was a book from the university press, but I don’t remember now. I love her work, and I’m glad I watched that show to discover her for myself.~~Dee
Isn’t that a lovely poem~and a wonderful post to muse about….I think we all need space to be and create in~ Someday I’ll have a garden shed in the middle of a garden and see my clients there~~gail