« Once the carpets are pulled | Main | What End Lovely Linnaea? »
Where Northwest forests open among criss-crosses of fallen, moss-covered logs, the sun lights bright constellations—loose panicles of white stars, the petals of foam-flowers (Tiarella trifoliata). I think of them not as foam but as a constellation called Shiva for their many arms of starry flowers.
TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.typepad.com/services/trackback/6a00d83452493169e200d834d4219869e2
Listed below are links to weblogs that reference A Constellation:
The comments to this entry are closed.
| Sun | Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | ||
| 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |
| 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 |
| 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 |
| 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 |
Larry, I love the way your flowers are always one thing and many, and sometimes one becomes another, as in two of your recent posts where shooting stars become river divers and foam flowers, white-starred constellations. I wish I had the ability to see how a single plant holds all those metaphoric possibilities.
Posted by: Debbie Lee | 10 July 2006 at 07:10 PM
Debbie, thanks--there is great pleasure in "as if" thinking. I've been enjoying the tumble of associations that come to mind as I walk and write.
Posted by: larry | 10 July 2006 at 09:39 PM