Another angle
Dear friends and readers,
In the Washington, D.C. area this weekend “peak bloom” time for the whole area’s millions of flowering trees. The tidal basin lake within the city (just) where the Jefferson Monument takes up one one stretch is the place where a huge number of trees stemming from Japan’s original gift are to be found. Crowds of people come. Before the pandemic an outdoors temporary audience would form to see and hear music, singing, speeches. Izzy began to go yearly when she was fourteen. She went this year again, and sent photos home to her mother unable to accompany her, and to her sister too, and I share a few of them here with you.
Izzy and I planted one miniature during the pandemic. This spring it’s all grown up. I took these photos
A friend, Nancy Mayor (long-time fellow Janeite) commented on facebook when I shared them there with this poem by A. E. Housman:
Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.
Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.
And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.
Nancy and I are way past 3 score and ten; all the more are we gladdened by this yearly renewal. Izzy is twice 20 years (40); as you know, she and I are both on the spectrum so we kept one another company, enjoing the beauty together this way. In one preious year a Folger Library concert was sched on “peak” day so I went with her. What trouble we had finding parking! By the end of the day the streets of DC were layered with pink petals.
Here you see some individuals, close up:
That Saturday I enjoyed myself too. From OLLI at York (in Yorkshire, starting 5 am DST, because 10 am GMT) I revelled in a 3 hour 15 minute session on the medieval alliterative 14-15th century poem, Death of King Arthur, as translated by Simon Armitage.
Starting at 11 am I attended and enjoyed this year’s ASECSS virtual conference. 3 interesting sessions: 2 presentations on Charlotte Smith, 1 on rape culture (of interest to me), about how to invent better perspectives from those patriarchical heteronormative judicial-adversary ones we have; another the 18th century idea of cats transformed by internet videos, inimate, and cat art splendour. Alas, the people presenting had in mind how the cat told us about people at the time, e.g. the colonialist agenda linked servants & animals, they didn;t really mind the prevalent semi-hostile attitude towards cats at the time and still, remarking only cats even then used to denigrate women. Much on horrendous mistreatment of horses in streets, but nothing on early development of horse racing (which Southey deplored). Interstices: I did walk outside around block but oh how slowly I go nowadays. I bike rode indoors very slowly for 10 minutes while watching PBS: they had 2 liars on, supposed an “alternate view,” but this won’t won’t appease the present fascist govt determined to erase our rich free culture; Severino’s specious assertions placed disinformation at the center of the segment, debased Ali Rogan who asked no useful questions, wasted time from the precious half hour).
George Morland, this observant quiet kind of depiction not included in presentations
Beryl Cook’s reminded me of how I would hold Ian and how he would look out from my arms
I was reading E.M. Forster novels and journalism (for two classes) this weekend too; Howards End, Maurice, “What I Believe.” Hilary Mantel’s Mirror and the Light, one man’s mind as reflector book as I watched Mark Rylance’s actor’s rendition, a steely, anguished and then betrayed performer, the ghost-ridden Thomas Cromwell. Wonderful immersion and high-minded melancholy relief.
Recent photos of Fiona and Elinor, early teenagehood BFFs
Ellen