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

Discovering Regal Lilies (1 of 2)

From “A Plethora of Plants” in The Origin of Plants by Maggie-Campbell Culver:

“In 1899 Ernest Henry Wilson (1876-1930) travelled to China on behalf of the Veitch Nursery…. 

“It took the young Wilson six months to journey from England to China via the United States; here he took the opportunity to visit the Arnold Arboretum to learn about the latest techniques in plant collection, packaging and transportation….

“Wilson’s first journey was such a success and he returned with so many excellent garden-worthy plants that in 1903 he was engaged a second time by the Veitch Nursery for a further two years. In 1907 and again in 1910 he returned to China, collecting this time on behalf of the Arnold Arboretum. He became so identified with the area and was such a successful plant collector that he was often referred to as ‘Chinese’ Wilson, but his last journey to China nearly cost him his life and left him with a permanent limp….

“It has been estimated that Wilson introduced into Britain between 2,000 and 3,000 different species of seed, and many more herbarium specimens; from the seeds, at least 1,000 new plants have been introduced into cultivation….


“Possibly the most gorgeous is the Regal Lily,
Lilium regale, the plant which was the indirect cause of Wilson’s ‘lily limp’. This amiable and accommodating lily, as the writer Alice Coats called his introduction, was first grown in 1905 under the name L. myriophyllum (meaning ‘many leaves’), but even though it was easy to cultivate and sweetly scented, it did not become as popular as Wilson thought it should.

“He was so keen for people to share his enthusiasm for this splendid lily that on his fourth expedition to China, in 1910, he travelled yet again from Shanghai to the borders of Tibet, where he had first found the flower, a trek of over 3,200 km (2,000 miles). The site was a remote mountain valley, and the journey to it was through some of the most difficult and desolate country….

“As Wilson himself said of the route undertaken, it was ‘absolute terra-incognita’. It is a mark of his enthusiasm that he braved this arduous journey again just so that the western world could share in the delights of the Regal Lily. Its gentle beauty and graceful habit absolutely defy its natural home; Wilson recorded in his diary that ‘no more barren and repelling country could be imagined’, but when the lovely lily burst into flower, the landscape was transformed, as he then noted, from ‘a lonely semi-desert region into a veritable fairyland’….


“It was on the return journey that, in trying to escape one of the frequent landslides, Wilson broke his leg. The remaining rigours of the journey, the delay in treatment and the subsequent infection setting in resulted in his almost having to have his leg amputated; in fact, he nearly died. In due course, he returned to America where the infection was finally cured and the leg saved, but Wilson was left, for the rest of his life, with his ‘lily limp’.”

From “Songs of Flowers” by Gwen Funston in I Hear the Song and It Wells in Me by The Poetry Society of Michigan: 

Eighty-seven and ninety-two
    sat together
    listening to old songs
    songs from youth
       memories of dancing
       with long lost mates.

Eighty-seven
    tall and stately
    dark hair turning gray
    crinkled laughter lines
       dressed in muted orchid
       amethysts and diamonds
singing the words
to every remembered melody.

Ninety-two
    tiny and erect
    white hair closely waved
    complexion lightly etched
       neatly dressed in gray
       enhanced by white
singing softly
cheeks slightly flushed.

Eighty-seven and ninety-two
an original bouquet
not seniors, not aged,
    a royal, regal lily
    and delicate, dainty rose.


Hello!

This is the first of two posts with photographs of Regal Lilies (Lilium regale) from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. As you might be able to tell from the first three photos below, these lilies displayed an exuberant mass of flowers, stems, and leaves, so much so that it was a challenge to isolate a few individual flowers for close-up photography.

I had photographed these Regals a couple of times before (see, for example, Summer 2020: Lily Variations (1 of 10) and Lilies on Black Backgrounds (8 of 10)) — where I took the photos from some distance, since these lilies are in a terraced section of the garden, on a grassy stretch above a four-foot stone wall and set back about twenty feet from the public walkway. I hadn’t previously thought about climbing up to get a closer look — one is sometimes unsure about stomping too close to the flowers — but this time I made myself invisible (as Photographers sometimes do) and sneaked up onto the terrace to push my camera into the lilies.

With so many opened flowers, their perfume filled the air and was intoxicating, almost dizzying… and I spent about an hour photographing these beauties, until I saw one of the garden caretakers coming into view and thought I should maybe scram. I felt a wee bit like Ernest Henry Wilson — whose dangerous explorations, excerpted above, led to the introduction of Lilium regale to Britain — but I didn’t get stuck in a landslide or come home with a limp.

Thanks for taking a look!










Long-Legged Lilies (2 of 2)

From “The Lily Family and its Relatives” in The World of Plant Life by Clarence J. Hylander: 

“The true Lilies… include some hundred north temperate species of large and beautifully flowered plants, of which the United States has a generous share. Few plants are so delicately and strikingly colored….

“The numerous western species of
Lilium include the Washington Lily, Lemon Lily, Tiger Lily, Redwood Lily, Oregon Lily and the Little Leopard Lily. The Washington Lily, found in the pine forests of California and Oregon, has pure white, large, fragrant blossoms similar to those of the Easter Lily….

“Many of the native species are cultivated for their showy flowers, but in addition there have been introduced many familiar varieties. The common Easter Lily, grown to such an extent in Bermuda, is a native of China and Japan; its waxy-white blooms hardly need description. The
Madonna Lily, a white-flowered species from southern Europe and Asia, is thought to be the lily so frequently referred to in the Bible; its flowers are smaller than those of the Easter Lily….”

From “Lily” in Flowers in History by Peter Coats:

L. longiflorum comes originally from the Ryukyu Islands, and until the entire lily crop was wiped out by disease, was much grown in Bermuda. In the author’s youth, Easter or Bermudan lilies, as they were then called, were used by the thousand for party decoration, and in the ‘thirties, white lilies, with blue Echinops Ritro, the Globe thistle, arranged in square glass accumulator jars, were as popular as floral decoration as hosta leaves and Alchemilla mollis are today. L. longiflorum, as classic a lily as the Madonna, with its perfectly proportioned flowers with delicious scent, is still an appropriate flower for any occasion.”


Hello!

This is the second of two posts featuring summer-blooming Easter Lilies (Lilium longiflorum) from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens. The first post is Long-Legged Lilies (1 of 2). As with the previous post, I found these lilies growing in odd places throughout the gardens, mostly on single stems, except for those toward the center below — where their very tall stems sported a cluster of three blossoms rivaling the height of tree branches nearby.

Thanks for taking a look!







Long-Legged Lilies (1 of 2)

From “Easter Lilies” in Lilies: Beautiful Varieties for Home and Garden by Naomi Slade:

“Native to a slender slice of East Asia, stretching from Japan to the Philippines, Lilium longiflorum is charming, fragrant and decorative. What’s more, it punches way above its weight on the floral world stage due to its adoption as the ‘Easter’ lily, a symbol of hope, purity and resurrection in the Christian faith….

“The large flowers are delightful, with perhaps half a dozen carried atop a stem clad in glossy, dark green leaves. Each long, white trumpet is palest green at the base, fading to white, while the central stigma, stamens and anthers are a faded, buttery hue.

“Left to its own devices,
L. longiflorum and its cultivars would bloom in summer — usually between June and August in much of the northern hemisphere. But to perform at its best at Easter, the bulbs are forced. This is done by keeping the potted bulbs in cool temperatures – they need a period of chill in order to flower — and once they are in growth, the amount of light and warmth they receive is moderated to control bloom time….

“When potted Easter lilies have finished flowering, you can plant them out into the garden. Acclimatize the plants gradually before removing the pot, loosening the roots and settling them into the soil. The stem-rooting bulbs may take a couple of years to recover, but should flower at the normal time when they are ready.”

From “It Took Me a Moment to See” by Michael Moss in Minnesota Writes: Poetry, edited by Jim Moore and Cary Waterman:

North on Minnesota 59,
hungry for the company of strangers,
I drive past the barren golf course,
the airport deserted at dusk,
the abandoned missile silos,
Oak Lake and Lower Badger Creek
to the Third Base Supper Club;
concrete deer grazing the dead lawn,
pink Styrofoam flamingoes
framing the Mediterranean door…

On the juke box Johnny Cash sings I’m a Hero,
then Jerry Lee Lewis rocks Great Balls of Fire.
Two migrant workers, a man and a woman,
get drunk on Gallo, forget their food,
their shack, the sound of their truck,
forget their children’s voices,
the reason they crossed the border.
Wheat farmers in starched white shirts
break bread with their huge hands.
A late Easter lily blooms on the bar….


Hello!

I came across a single white lily flower at Oakland Cemetery’s Gardens in early June, the blossom sitting all by itself at the top of a very long stem, much of it hidden from view until I walked around the headstones. There were no other flowers right nearby, so it commanded attention — and got me wondering if I could find others hiding out all by themselves around the property. This post — and the next one — feature variations of Lilium longiflorum that I found in odd places, all with a single flower or small cluster of flowers that had stems so long they appeared to be hanging from trees or emerging from shrubs nearby. In one of the photos, I got photobombed by a lily sneaking a peak; if you find that one and enlarge it, you might think the lily is smiling at you.

I’ve often been hesitant to call these “Easter Lilies” — their common name — because it seemed to me that “Easter Lily” ought to refer to a flower that bloomed much earlier in the season… you know, around Easter. So I was glad to learn about the blooming difference between those we see in early spring — typically in pots or vases — and those we see in gardens later during the summer, as described in the quotation at the top of this post. I guess the right approach would be to call them Easter Lilies when we see them around Easter, but use their full name Lilium longiflorum when we see them during the summer. Maybe we could call the summer versions “Lily Longlegs” since their stems are so long, or follow the origins of their scientific name (where longi means “long” and florum means “flower”) and dub them “Lily Longflower” instead!

(P.S. It’s possible that some of these are Madonna Lilies (Lilium candidum) rather than Lilium longiflorum, but it’s hard to differentiate between the two given the angles of some of my shots.)

Thanks for taking a look!








Martagon Lilies (3 of 3)

From “The Introduction of Lilies into Cultivation” in Lilies for American Gardens by George Lewis Slate:

“The development of lily cultivation has taken more than a century. A hundred years or more ago the catalogues of English firms offered L. candidum in variety, L. bulbiferum and its variety croceum in several varieties, L. pomponium, L. chalce-donicum, L. pyrenaicum, L. tenuifolium (now pumilum), and numerous varieties of L. Martagon. In the catalogues of today we find most of the lilies of the world, indeed practically all of the worth-while species. Many new hybrids and varieties are also found in the lists of specialists. From whence came all these lilies?

“As man arises from savagery and develops a civilization he concerns himself with those plants that provide food and shelter. As these needs become satisfied, they require less time and he concerns himself with the esthetic side of life. The beautification of his surroundings with plants receives consideration. The native plants are used first, but soon a desire for greater variety and exotic plants develops, and the gardens and wilds of foreign countries are searched for new material. The stories of these searches and the bringing into cultivation of new plants are often fascinating accounts of adventure and hardship.”

From “Down from the Houses of Magic” by Cyrus Cassells in The Ecopoetry Anthology, edited by Ann Fisher-Wirth and Laura-Gray Street:

Midsummer.
And after belligerent sun, twilight brings
A muezzin of sea-wind,
And the soul of the garden bows,
A praise in the earth:
Among Turk-cap lilies, suddenly,
In the willow’s cool hair,
The breath of God….


Hello!

This is the last of three posts featuring Martagon Lilies from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens, where I took some of the images from the previous two posts and used Lightroom witchcraftery to convert their backgrounds to black.

The first post is Martagon Lilies (1 of 3), and the second post is Martagon Lilies (2 of 3).

Thanks for taking a look!







Martagon Lilies (2 of 3)

From “Well-Known Lilies” in Lilies by Carl Feldmaier:

“The native Turk’s Cap, Lilium martagon, is… a rather modest bloom, well known only to the initiated. Pharmacists, naturalists, and mountain-climbers value the beauty and individuality of this lily, which is usually concealed beneath hedges and undergrowth and which flourishes in mountainous country at heights varying from low wooded slopes up to the middle ranges. It prefers calcareous soil, or at least calcareous subsoil. To stumble upon it growing wild, with its dull, rose, panicled blooms, under beech trees or among viburnum or buck-thorn, is a rare pleasure: one plant may be densely spotted, the next a little less so, and finally one will find a completely clear pink flower….

“This lily was already well known during the Middle Ages, principally on account of its yellow bulb, and was much sought after for its medicinal properties.”

From “Vespers” by Louise Gluck in Poems 1962-2012:

End of August. Heat
like a tent over
John’s garden. And some things
have the nerve to be getting started,
clusters of tomatoes,
stands of late lilies — optimism
of the great stalks —
but why start anything
so close to the end?


Hello!

This is the second of three posts featuring Martagon Lilies from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens, with photos that I took in late July. The first post is Martagon Lilies (1 of 3), and for the final post I’ll convert some of these to black-background images, as I so often like to do.

As we just yesterday wrapped up Mugshot Week here in the city of Atlanta, I thought you might enjoy reading absolutely nothing about it from me — but instead I decided to share this excerpt about the early history of mugshots, from the book Capturing the Light: The Birth of Photography, a True Story of Genius and Rivalry by Roger Watson and Helen Rappaport. Those often-iconic images emerged alongside daguerrotypes, as a development from portrait photography that was so often the subject of early image-making. The nineteen present-day mugshots were all taken a few miles from my house, with the process mostly outside of public view — except for the former president’s extravagant trip into and out of the city, a spectacle that unfolded surreally along streets and past buildings I recognized — but they’ve achieved notoriety and wide circulation, just like the olden-day mugshots received.

Here is the excerpt, from a chapter entitled “The Mute Testimony of the Picture.”

“When [Henry Fox] Talbot first defined photography’s uses in his 1844 book The Pencil of Nature he had no concept of the many fringe uses to which the form would make a contribution — beyond a conventional role in portraiture, landscapes and architectural views, and the documentation of works of art and scientific collections. His inclusion of the reproduction of works of art foresaw photography taking on the task that engraving and lithography had long held and was one of the most forward-thinking uses of its unique features. Talbot’s notion of keeping a photographic record of one’s valuables, as well as legal documents such as wills and deeds, was a prescient insight into photography’s future, for if such things were ever stolen, ‘the mute testimony of the picture’, when produced against a thief in court would, he asserted, ‘certainly be evidence of a novel kind; but what the judge and jury might say to it, is a matter which I leave to the speculation of those who possess legal acumen’.

“This idea of photography being used in court was truly novel but the photograph’s deployment in crime detection was one of the first and most important offshoots of the new genre, though it didn’t start — as many people assume — with the Rogues Gallery of mug-shots compiled by the Pinkerton Detective Agency, which was the source of the well-known ‘Wanted’ posters seen in westerns later in the century. The Belgian police had been the first to experiment with photography in recording the likeness of criminals around 1843-4, and the Danish police had done likewise in 1851. There is evidence too that in the early 1850s in California the San Francisco Vigilance Committee had daguerreotypes made of offenders, and later in that decade the New York Police Department began keeping a photographic record as well….

“Nevertheless, in the early days the use of photography in crime detection and prevention was basically down to the enterprise of individual police departments and prison officers. One such in England was Captain [George Thomas] Gardiner, the ‘ingenious and excellent governor of Bristol gaol’, who in 1856 ‘possessed himself of a photographic apparatus’ for taking the photographs — at a cost of sixpence each — of those criminals he believed would be most likely to reoffend, so that these could be circulated to other forces….

“This principle had already been successfully put into practice in 1855 by a forward-thinking chief constable in Wolverhampton — Colonel Gilbert Hogg — in the pursuit and arrest of a confirmed female con-artist Alice Grey. Grey’s daguerreotype had been found among her abandoned belongings in a lodging house, but copies could not of course be made from it. The enterprising Hogg therefore took it to the photographer [Oscar Gustave] Rejlander (at that time based in Darlington Street, Wolverhampton), who made a calotype of it and printed twenty copies. When these were circulated to police stations across the country, they revealed a trail of fraud and deception dating back five years; the use of the photograph led directly to Grey’s arrest and successful prosecution.”

Thanks for reading and taking a look!