"Pay attention to the world." -- Susan Sontag
 

Red Mums and Daisies (1 of 4)

From the Introduction to Chrysanthemum (Botanical) by Twigs Way:

“From philosophy to art, ceramics to silks, medicine to death: the chrysanthemum winds its way through ancient Chinese culture to the imperial courts of Japan and onto the canvases and pages of Western civilization. Often dismissed as the ‘showman’s flower’ it draws its allure from the gold of the Sun and the rule of emperors, with sunset shades beloved by East and West. The delicacy of its petals, combined with a long flowering period, gained it the affection of the ancient Chinese, who named it Chu, from which comes the name of the ancient city Ta-chu Hsien….

“Coming to Europe with the opening up of Chinese trade in the eighteenth century, the flower was given a new baptism and
chu or kiku became chrysanthemum, named from the Greek for gold (chrysos) and for flower (anthos). Ironically, it was not until the importation of ‘Old Purple’, a plum-red variety, that the possibilities of the chrysanthemum were truly appreciated in the West as the cheering yellow colours of the original wild chrysanthemum multiplied into an array of autumnal hues….

“Filling the autumn months, they give rise to associations varying from remembrance of ancestors to the start of the American football season — the latter an occasion to which it was long a tradition to wear a chrysanthemum buttonhole. In America the tradition of Thanksgiving was soon regarded as incomplete without a bunch of chrysanthemums, despite the fact that they only arrived on the continent in the late eighteenth century.”

From “Chrysanthemums” in Shoes of the Wind: A Book of Poems by Hilda Conkling:

Dusky red chrysanthemums out of Japan,
With silver-backed petals like armor,
Tell me what you think sometimes?
You have fiery pink in you too…
You all mean loveliness:
You say a word
Of joy.
You come from gardens unknown
Where the sun rises…
You bow your heads to merry little breezes
That run by like fairies of happiness;
You love the wind and woody vines
That outline the forest…
You love brooks and clouds…
Your thoughts are better than my thoughts
When the moon is getting high!


Hello!

Here we have the first of four posts featuring photographs of mums and daisies from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens, that I took in late November and early December. My previous posts with pink and magenta mums and daisies from the same trips are:

Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (1 of 3)
Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (2 of 3)
Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (3 of 3)
Mums, Magenta Style

As I often do, I’ve organized the photographs by color: this set of four posts features blooms where the color red dominates — and these flowers seem to have produced just about every shade of red you could imagine. Some yellow, orange, and white collections are currently queued in my backlog, just waiting to be set free later this month and beyond.

According to PlantNet (and depending on which photograph you’re viewing), the plants will likely be Hardy Garden Mums (Chrysanthemum × morifolium), Persian Daisies (Tanacetum coccineum), or Indian Chrysanthemums (Chrysanthemum indicum) — so you have a one-third chance of getting the name right, as PlantNet attributes about the same probability to each of these three plant names upon examining my photographs. You could also just call them Asters — from their family name Asteraceae — and of course get it exactly right in all cases.

I was glad to come across the book I quoted briefly at the top of this post because I like discovering new books devoted to just one plant genus, especially if the books dive into the botanical and cultural history of the plants. Chrysanthemum (Botanical) by Twigs Way is part of a series of twenty-seven books, each taking a similar approach to botanical history. In my imagination, I like to think I’ll eventually own the whole series; but realistically, I’ll take a look at certain ones as the blooming period for those flowers approaches. We’re not just about photographs here (not that there’s anything wrong with that), so finding books about the dynasties of lilies, snowdrops (a book just about snowdrops!), tulips, rhododendrons, sunflowers, cherries, roses, and daffodils (forthcoming) — all plants that pose for my photoshoots — turns each nature trip into an exploration of not only photography but of plants and their relation to human histories. We are going to learn so many new things!

Thanks for taking a look!








Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (3 of 3)

From “Worcester: The Canal” in Under the Cliff and Other Poems by Geoffrey Grigson:

The autumn daisies dipped in the wind
In the olive water,
Oil patches, like a marbled fly-leaf,
Turned in the wind, on the water.

A swan; and the black, elegant bridge,
Like a theorem, over
The canal and the towpath: a circle
Over an arch, by a great arch.

And a black engine on the bridge, named
As a Princess, smoking. Rusty
Galvanised over the coffin yard,
A man passing with leeks….


Hello!

This is the third of three posts with photographs of Persian (or Painted) Daisies (Tanacetum coccineum) and mums (Chrysanthemum zawadzkii). The first post — where I also wrote about the significance of mums and daisies at Victorian garden cemeteries — is Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (1 of 3); and the second post is Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (2 of 3).

Here we are on the last day of November (how did THAT happen?), right on the cusp of starting the month of curiosities and baubles, clouds of glitter, and the lights and candles we use to ward off winter darkness. For my part, I’ve engaged the services of my decorating assistant — The Small Dog — who supervised the work yesterday as I untangled the first of two strings of 900 (three sets of 300 each) lights and began shoving them into the Christmas tree. You can just barely see his head peaking around the wall in the first image, but the more I swore at the lights to encourage them to straighten out, the more interested he got!










Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (2 of 3)

From “Sensory” by Marian Harmon in The Best Poems of the 90s, edited by Caroline Sullivan and Cynthia Stevens:

Eyes to photo flights of hummingbirds
As television lions mate, Vesuvius explodes.
Eyes to read the shape of breasts that swell
And turn to milk for one as yet unborn.

Tongues to taste new kernel corn
The bite of dill,
The sweet bright mouth of love.

Ears to hear the measured paragraphs of Bach
The stamping of the tiny hooves of deer.
Unfinished words that slither into nibbled cries.

Nose that knows delight in spring verbena,
Summer phlox and autumn mums,
The perfumed sweat that rises with my touch.

Yet all those wonders fade, become as garden weeds,
Or dust on lamps
When you no longer share
The scents, the sounds, the tastes,
The beating of my wings.


Hello!

This is the second of three posts with photographs of Persian (or Painted) Daisies (Tanacetum coccineum) and mums (Chrysanthemum zawadzkii) — all in shades of pink, starting with saturated blends of pink, purple, and magenta followed by those that are more purely pink. The first post — where I also wrote about the significance of mums and daisies at Victorian garden cemeteries — is Pink Daisies, Pink Mums (1 of 3).

Thanks for taking a look!