Trinity in the garden

This post has two purposes: one is to confirm Linda Mosier’s post of “ZINNIAS….everyone likes Emily’s flowers!” and the other is using Emily’s poem to show the “trinity” of the garden.

Last September in my “The passing of summer” post I did use Emily’s Dickinson’s poem that ends with,

In the name of the Bee –
And of the Butterfly –
And of the Breeze – Amen!

In Helen Vender’s “Dickinson: Selected poems and Commentaries” (published last year), this is the first poem she commented. This is a lighthearted parody of the Trinitarian formula of baptism: “in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost” (Matthew 28:19). Strict or 'technical' religious persons may even say it is a “blasphemous’ parody.

There is also an alliteration (Bee, Butterfly, and Breeze) that she capitalizes to go along with “Father, Son, and Holy Ghost”. Being an original and imaginative poet, Emily is baptizing in the garden, calling authority of the Nature and to match the Christian Trinity, as Vendler commented.  No wonder Emily Dickinson said that we are “closer to God in a garden than any place on this earth.”

bee on bee balm

Peony: the oriental beauty that was nelected by Emily Dickinson

These photos are the peony blossom in our garden and around the house.  Emily Dickinson definitely had peony in her garden, but peony is no where to be found in any of her over 1,700 poems.  In her letter to Louise Norcross, she wrote “Tell Vinnie [Emily’s sister] I counted three peony noses, red as Sammie Mathew’s, just out of the ground.” (‘nose’ is the projecting end of the peony).

It is hard to understand why such an exuberant and luxurious flowers with entrancing fragrance was not exulted and immortalized in her poems.  Some speculate that peony is just too rich and opulent for her (recall Chinese call peony富貴花).

My theory is that peony (牡丹花) is traditionally an oriental flower, it is actually China’s National Flower.  Although it had been introduced to New England (she spent all her life in Amherst, MA) area in her time, it might still be treated as a “foreign” flower then.

No need to lament: whatever not done by Emily, it was accomplished by Chinese poets over one thousand years ago.  I dare not to translate as I cannot do it without spoiling the beauty of the language.

惜牡丹花  (Peony lamentation)—by 白居易 (Bai Juyi)

惆怅階前红牡丹

晚來唯有两枝殘                   

明朝風起應吹盡                   

夜惜衰红把火看

賞牡丹 (Peony Admiration)

by 李正封(Li Zheng Feng, Tang Dynasty)

國色朝酣酒﹐天香夜染衣。

賞牡丹 (Peony Admiration)

By 劉禹錫 (Liu Yuxi, Tang Dynasty 772-842)

庭前芍藥妖無格﹐池上芙蕖淨少情。

唯有牡丹真國色﹐花開時節動京城。

The unknown “Purple Flower” in our garden and in Emily Dickinson’s garden/poem

Among the blooming purple irises in our garden we found another purple flower, name of which is unknown to Katy (and of course, to me)—see photos—then I found Emily Dickinson also wrote about a “Purple Flower”, which she didn’t name on purpose.  She wrote about many purple flowers such as iris, hyacinth, tulips, phlox, heliotrope, etc.  But, this Purple Flower is difficult to define as it represents the Immortality in this poem.

Of death I try to think like this,

The Well in which they lay us

Is but the likeness of the Brook

That menaced not to slay us,

But to invite by that Dismay

Which is the Zest of sweetness

To the same Flower Hesperian,

Decoying but to greet us —

I do remember when a Child

With bolder Playmates straying

To where a Brook that seemed a Sea

Withheld us by it’s roaring

From just a Purple Flower beyond

Until constrained to clutch it

If Doom itself were the result,

The boldest leaped, and clutched it —

Emily Dickinson’s poems are very symbolic.  In this poem the Purple Flower is the “Flower Hesperian” which derives from the Greek mythology of three nymphs who tend a blissful garden.  She alludes death as a Well, which is a Brook or a roaring Sea.  Immortality is reached after death, and “crossing the water” (of a Well or a Brook or a Sea) symbolizes reaching death in literature.  This is an allegory—a figurative narrative.  A seemingly innocent scene of a child straying beside a brook to “cross the water”, to reach immortality suggests death is commonplace, universal, and nothing to be feared about.

I labored (in body) in the garden, then labor (in mind) trying to explain what an unknown Purple Flower comes to symbolize.

The exotic beauty: Fuchsia is the new addition in our garden

Our garden (combination of flowers and veggies), like many others, has run-of-the-mill garden variety of flowers, such as geranium, impatien, begonia, marigold, and zinnia, etc.  But, a few exotic flowers will be needed to make it special.  Fuchsia is an exotic flower by all measures.

The name of Fuchsia itself is exotic; it is named after German botanist Leonhart Fuchs.  The color of fuchsia is named after her, and that tells a lot.  They have four long, slender, flaring, purple sepals and four shorter, broader, red petals and protruding stamens.  The colors may vary with so many hybrids.

Can you imagine how we brought this pendulous (hanging) exotic beauty home?

Emily Dickinson generally cultivated fragrant flowers in her garden; that's why we never saw orchids and azaleas in her conservatory, which were popular in her time.  But, camellias and fuchsia were exception.  I copy one of her poems here, just to show you fuchsias were indeed in her garden; she usually wrote about the flowers in her garden.  The interpretation of this poem is difficult and is not the scope of this writing. (She apparently spelled Fuchsia as Fuschzia)

I tend my flowers for thee —

Bright Absentee!

My Fuschzia’s Coral Seams

Rip — while the Sower — dreams —

Geraniums — tint — and spot —

Low Daisies — dot —

My Cactus — splits her Beard

To show her throat —

Lady's Eardrops (聖母的耳墬)

Carnations — tip their spice —

And Bees — pick up —

A Hyacinth — I hid —

Puts out a ruffled Head —

And odors fall

From flasks — so small —

You marvel how they held —

Globe Roses — break their satin flake —

Opon my garden floor —

Yet — thou — not there —

I had as life they bore

No crimson — more —

Thy flower — by gay —

Her Lord — away!

It ill becometh me —

I’ll dwell in Calyx — Gray —

How modestly — alway —

Thy Daisy —

Draped for thee!

陳姿蓉 fuchsia 又稱lady's Eardrops(聖母的耳墬) 看到聖母的耳墬子聯想到聽到天主來報喜　她將成為天主之母訊息的第一雙耳朵　聽到天主的話以後　聖母永遠銘記在心（摘自淨心園.園淨心）

Can you imagine how we brought this pendulous (hanging) exotic beauty home?

Emily Dickinson’s and 陳英毅’s flowers: literary work

Emily Dickinson’s garden was her refuge, sanctuary, and the inspiration for her poetry.  Her flowers were metaphors of her own self or religious emblems.  Seeing her tulips and hyacinths came back every spring, signifying the Christian mystery of death and resurrection.  We read “Did you ever know that a flower, once withered & freshened again, became an immortal flower,--that is, that it rises again?  I think resurrections here [in her garden] are sweeter, it may be, than the longer and lasting one.” in a letter she wrote at the age of 21.

I came across a post in Facebook by my cousin, 陳英毅 (an ophthalmologist and a well known photographer of professional caliber) whose work with a title of “re-birth or new birth” (新生)—see photo below—is currently on display (May 1 to May 31) at the Cultural Center in Taichung, Taiwan.

The photo shows a delicate white flower growing from a crack of the rough and rusty metal door.  The hard, jagged, vulgar metal, representing the bygone past, is in stark contrast to the ethereal beauty of the flower, delicate and refined yet with a robust and vigorous future.

The way 英毅 takes his picture is the same way Emily wrote her poems; both are art/literary work.

Wild flowers are also flowers—no discrimination, please

The grass was all sprinkled with dandelions (copied from Anne of Green Gables)—you may think it is a pleasing sight, but it is also considered not diligent in cutting the grass.  I personally am not discriminated against the wild flowers; to me a flower is a flower is a flower; and oftentimes I cannot tell a ‘wild’ flower from the so-called flower.  Emily Dickinson loved spring and wild flowers; in a letter to her friend (Mrs. A.P. Strong) she wrote from Holyoke Female Seminary (later evolved into Mount Holyoke College) on May 16, 1848,

“How glad I am that spring has come, and how it calms my mind when wearied with study to walk out in the green fields and beside the pleasant streams in which South Hadley is rich!  There are not many wild flowers near, for the girls have driven them to a distance, and we are obliged to walk quite a distance to find them, but they repay us by their sweet smiles and fragrance.

The older I grow, the more do I love spring and spring flowers.  Is it so with you? While at home there were several pleasure parties of which I was a member, and in our rambles we found many and beautiful children of spring, which I will mention and see if you have found them—the trailing arbutus, adder’s tongue, yellow violets, liver-leaf, bloodroot, and many other smaller flowers.

What are you reading now? . . . .”

While checking out The Garden of Emily Dickinson, I also checked out Dickinson Letters.  One has to be well versed in prose before one can write beautiful verses.  It is a delight to read her letters.  April is the National Poetry Month, last week there was an op-ed at the Wall Street Journal with a title of “What John Keats Can Teach a CEO”, in which several poets, including Emily Dickinson were mentioned.  I think it is a bit over-stretched; nevertheless, a good CEO has to be well versed in prose; that much I’m convinced.

Tulips in our garden and Emily Dickinson’s garden and poem

As I promised the tulips in our garden, I am posting this in their honor and praise. They may not be as many as in Phipps but as pretty and proud, if not more so. Emily Dickinson’s floral poems are oftentimes subtle; the theme hidden or implicit. The following is about her tulips and their responsiveness to her affection.

She slept beneath a tree
Remembered but by me.
I touched her cradle mute;
She recognized the foot,
Put on her carmine suit, --
And see!

“Put on her carmine suit” sheds further light that most of Emily’s tulips are red; the same as those in ours, as Kate (in anticipating William & Kate’s coming wedding, I’ll address Katy as Kate in a celebratory mood) is often a Lady in Red and she was the one bought those tulip bulbs last November. Carmine is a natural food red coloring, so “put on her carmine suit” is her blooming red tulips.

Star-of-Bethlehem in Phipps Garden and Emily Dickinson’s

Carnegie Library and Phipps Garden are not adjacent by each other, but with a strong arm, Garden is only a stone's throw away from the Library (I do have strong arms, at least Chia-Lin said I do, seeing how I worked on the infrastructure of the garden). I went to Carnegie Library yesterday afternoon then joined Katy at Phipps. One of the books I checked out was The Gardens of Emily Dickinson; the visits to both places are relevant and essential.

Like Emily’s garden, ours is our refuge, sanctuary, and inspiration for literary expression, however limited though it may be.

We spotted the Star-of-Bethlehem at Phipps and it was no surprise that one would see lots of Star-of-Bethlehem in Emily’s garden as they have a pleasant scent—a favorite of Emily! Hopefully they will be in our garden next season. The name of Star-of-Bethlehem comes from its six-petaled star-like white flowers, each petal being lined down the center with green.

“In its unfading flowers”

Emily Dickinson’s letters often came with a poem; this one was in the letter to her brother, Austin. I think she must have written it about this time of the year: she was concerned about the frost (“Where not a frost has been”) and emphasized her flowers had not faded yet (“In its unfading flowers”); I can boast the same, the photo of “unfading flowers” were taken this morning. “Prithee” comes from “pray thee” which is used to express a wish or request for something to be done; something like “please”. Let me paraphrase her, “Prithee, my [Facebook] friends, / Into my garden come!”


Linda Mosier was still entertained by butterflies and hummingbirds at this time of the year; and Emily still “hear the bright bee hum”.

There is another sky,

Ever serene and fair,

And there is another sunshine,

Though it be darkness there;

Never mind faded forests, Austine,

Never mind silent fields –

Here is a little forest,

Whose leaf is ever green;

Here is a brighter garden,

Where not a frost has been;

In its unfading flowers

I hear the bright bee hum;
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!

Emily Dickinson’s mourning on the end of summer

I just post Emily Dickinson’s poem marking the beginning of autumn, here is her mourn on the end of summer.  I interpret this as the “mourning” of the passing of summer since Auburn was mentioned (“Will idle lie – in Auburn –” I think she referred to the celebrated Mount Auburn Cemetery—the noble and beautiful place.  (Edwin, Mount Auburn is  at Cambridge.

When Roses cease to bloom, Sir,

And Violets are done –

When Bumblebees in solemn flight

Have passed beyond the Sun –

The hand that paused to gather

Upon this Summer’s day

Will idle lie – in Auburn –

Then take my flowers – pray!

Emily Dickinson on the beginning of autumn

Peggy said “Emily Dickinson, with her poems of this season, must have the right words for the equnox”; she did have a poem to mark the beginning of the autumn, which is supposed to be today/tonight (Septemer 22/23).  We took this photo at Fredericktown area 3 autumns ago, I said “the language to describe this blaze of colors is not yet invented”, Emily never ran out of words, “Some Dyer of a distant tree / Resumes his gaudy industry.”

Summer begins to have the look

Peruser of enchanting Book

Reluctantly but sure perceives

A gain upon the backward leaves –

Autumn begins to be inferred

By millinery of the cloud

Or deeper color in the shawl

That wraps the everlasting hill.

The eye begins its avarice

A meditation chastens speech

Some Dyer of a distant tree

Resumes his gaudy industry.

Conclusion is the course of All

A most to be perennial

And then elude stability

Recalls to immortality.

A captive and captivating beauty

Zinnias do not die, they just fade away; they lost their luster first before they do their color, but many of them are still beaming in their glory. While watering from outside the fence this afternoon, I saw this captive (kept inside a chain-link fence) and captivating beauty.

Do the flowers know they are beautiful? Emily Dickinson wondered the same question.

How many Flowers fail in Wood –
Or perish from the Hill –

Without the privilege to know

That they are Beautiful –

Emily Dickinson romanticized the bee-flower relationship with sexual allusion

In Emily Dickinson’s poems, the bee-flower relationship is romanticized with sexual allusion.  In The Seductions of Emily Dickinson, Robert McClure pointed out that flower is, after all, a sexual organ and pollination is a sexual act (one cannot be more explicit in saying “Their moment consummated”).  Bee is always a male one, even though it was actually a female bee that collects the nectar, whereas the flower is always a female one.  I would call this luscious poetry of garden scene.

Their moment consummated –

A Bee his burnished Carriage

Drove boldly to a Rose –

Combinedly alighting –

Himself – his Carriage was –

The Rose received his visit

With frank tranquility

Withholding not a Crescent

To his Cupidity –

Their moment consummated –

Remained for him – to flee –

Remained for her – of rapture 

But the humility

The passing of summer

It is inescapable that a gardener would mourn the passing of summer when the garden activities were winding down; Emily Dickinson was no exception.  This is how she did it.  Emily must also plant flowers of gentian family, which are colorful; many are blue.  Again both bee and butterfly showed up hand by hand.

The Gentian weaves her fringes –

The Maple’s loom is red –

My departing blossoms

           Obviate parade.

A brief, but patient illness –

An hour to prepare,

And one below this morning

Is where the angels are –

It was a short procession,

The Bobolink was there –

And aged Bee addressed us –

And then we knelt in prayer –

We trust that she was willing –

We ask that we may be.

Summer – Sister – Seraph!

Let us go with thee!

In the name of the Bee -

And of the Butterfly -

And of the Breeze - Amen!

Butterflies cruising round the purple line

I 'steal' (sharing euphemistically) these photos from Linda Eliott Mosier at Facebook so my FB 'friends' can see them; they're too good to be missed; they also remind me of Emily Dickinson's "Cruising round the purple line -" poem. The purple butterfly bush is the favorite of butterfly, and Emily Dickinson also noticed as we read,

 
Flowers - Well - if anubody
Can the ecstasy define -
Half a transport - half a trouble -
With which flowers humble men:
Anybody find the fountain
From which floods so contra flow -
I will give him all the Daisies
Which upon the hillside blow.

Too much pathos in their faces
For a simple breast like mine –
Butterflies from St. Domingo
Cruising round the purple line –
Have a system of aesthetics –
Far superior to mine.

Richard Feynman wondered whether the aesthetic sense exists in lower forms of life such as bees or butterflies; Emily would resoundingly say yes. She would say “that is my kind of garden” had she seen Linda's.