I didn't take any of these photos. I found them all online... shortly after a friend of mine told me they had never thought much of Queen Anne's lace, and that it had always just seemed "kind of weedy" to them.
Have you ever read William Carlos William's? He wrote a lot of poems about queen anne's lace.
Like this one:
Queen Anne's Lace
Her body is not so white as anemone petals nor so smooth - nor so remote a thing. It is a field of the wild carrot taking the field by force; the grass does not raise above it. Here is no question of whiteness, white as can be, with a purple mole at the center of each flower. Each flower is a hand's span of her whiteness. Wherever his hand has lain there is a tiny purple blemish. Each part is a blossom under his touch to which the fibres of her being stem one by one, each to its end, until the whole field is a white desire, empty, a single stem, a cluster, flower by flower, a pious wish to whiteness gone over-- or nothing.
Queen Anne's Lace always reminds me of summer....
ReplyDeleteHave you ever read William Carlos William's? He wrote a lot of poems about queen anne's lace.
ReplyDeleteLike this one:
Queen Anne's Lace
Her body is not so white as
anemone petals nor so smooth - nor
so remote a thing. It is a field
of the wild carrot taking
the field by force; the grass
does not raise above it.
Here is no question of whiteness,
white as can be, with a purple mole
at the center of each flower.
Each flower is a hand's span
of her whiteness. Wherever
his hand has lain there is
a tiny purple blemish. Each part
is a blossom under his touch
to which the fibres of her being
stem one by one, each to its end,
until the whole field is a
white desire, empty, a single stem,
a cluster, flower by flower,
a pious wish to whiteness gone over--
or nothing.
I remember it having a funny smell. Pretty though. I've never seen it here... but then again, I haven't been in many fields lately.
ReplyDelete