Today's the last Saturday of October 2011! Question: Will it be Halloween's Last Stand?

If you have been following my blog, then you are probably aware that some of the things which I grow in my urban (New York City) terrace garden have taken it upon themselves to express their thoughts and opinions by authoring blog entries and posting them within this blog.


This "hoopla" — which has caused one of the Halloween pumpkins that I currently have in my garden to be overcome with laughter as seen in the image to in the upper lefthand corner —  all started in April of 2010, when my blog was only a little over four months old, and one of the flowers from my Paeonia suffruiticosa (Tree Peony), posted a photograph of herself with a short narrative. (If you would like to refer to this, please click here.)

As time passed, word got out among the plants, vines, flowers, herbs, trees and shrubs — which totaled a little over eighty when I last took a census — that the flower from my Paeonia suffruiticosa had done this, and many of the things which I grow began authoring entries on my blog. (This fact has  caused another one of the Halloween pumpkins that I currently have in my garden to also be overcome with laughter as seen in the image at the right.)



For example, this past April (2011), a little over a year to the day of my Paeonia suffruiticosa flower's post, one of my tulips had a reaction to the poem, Tulips, by Sylvia Plath, and she, my darling tulip, expressed her feelings in an entry which you may refer to by clicking here. Moreover, she even followed up on her thoughts about Plath's poem in a subsequent entry which you may refer to by clicking here.


However, in the "interim" of my tulip's "prose", not wanting to be outdone, my Physocarpus opulifolius (Coppertina), went to great lengths to weigh in with his position on life in my urban terrace garden, and if you'd like to read what he had to say — I'm sure he would appreciate his voice being heard — you may do so by clicking here. 


Meanwhile, my Helichrysum bracteatum (Strawflowers), has also "penned" (or shall I say "key-boarded"?) her thoughts too in a blog post which may be found by clicking here, while my Penniestum setaceum (Purple Fountain Grass), on behalf of herself and my Acer palmatum, posted a letter requesting assistance, so that an image of them taken by yours truly could be rendered in a manner that it, too, could be used for one of the greeting cards, invitations or event program covers that I design, produce, and sell within the Card Shoppe Pages (which you can view by clicking here) of my web-site, Patricia Youngquist Photo-Art. 

Knowing that my Physocarpus opulifolius was allowed to be so prolific in its blog post, and knowing that my Helichrysum bracteatum shared her deepest concerns in "blog-format", and knowing that my Penniestum setaceum took to the task of letter writing, has caused some of the other Halloween pumpkins that I currently have in my garden to now join in with the laughter — seen in the image posted below.

Meanwhile, part of all of the "pumpkin laughter" that is currently taking place in my terrace garden as Halloween approaches (it arrives in three days counting today) is because not only do they know that many more of the things which I grow in my garden have authored posts on my blog, but the pumpkins are aware that the things which I grow have also let their opinions be heard in different ways in addition to directly posting to this blog.


For example, my yellow rose not only authored a post (this past May, which you may refer to by clicking here) for the blog which you are reading now, but she convinced me to state one of her positions regarding the term "eye-candy" on nybg's (New York Botanical Garden) tumblr! This can found by clicking here, and scrolling until you see pictures of yellow roses (taken by yours truly). These images are accompanied with my rose's thoughts — exactly as they were told to me.

Some of my other pumpkins seem to be in joyful agreement that it was their 
heartfelt reaction to my rose's thoughts on the term "eye-candy" that brought them some "well-deserved" press that
they received in this past Thursday's blog entry, which you may refer to by clicking here.


But, having proclaimed throughout today's blog entry that my pumpkins are sharing in the joy of seeing what I grow in my garden be given the opportunity to express themselves, I should have suspected that they had an alternate motive! (In spite of how "innocent" they look in the image posted below.)

Yes, even pumpkins have their price! I have come to realize the main reason for my pumpkins' laughter today is from their over hearing the latest "news" regarding Halloween. They have brought it to my attention that Timothy Larson, an elected representative from Connecticut, wants to move Halloween to the last Saturday in October instead of keeping it on October 31st, as it has been since the beginning of Halloween tradition.


"How," my pumpkins are asking, "can a holiday such as Halloween which is equated with All Hallo'ws Eve  (the night before All Saints Day which is celebrated on November the First) be moved?"  My pumpkins did not stop with their question, but they continued with their thoughts and reminded me of how "silly" this idea is, given that, "the very word Halloween is first attested in the Sixteenth Century and it represents a Scottish variant of the fuller All-Hallows-Even ('evening') that is, the night before Hallows Day." 


As you may have surmised, dear reader, from my pumpkins' accurate interetation of the misused term "eye-candy" by certain gardeners, (discussed in yesterday's blog post which you may refer to by clicking here), they are quite well read and make informed remarks; they tell me their source for the aforementioned fact about the "Scottish variant" as well as other interesting facts surrounding "the reasons on why Halloween is celebrated on OCTOBER THE THIRTY-FIRST, " can be found by clicking here.  


My pumpkins point out — and rightly so —  why are law makers spending money on things like moving a holiday which is  rooted in history, instead of creating jobs and heath care for their constituents? Will this lead to only celebrating the Fourth of July on the closest Monday for the public's long week-end convenience? (This happened with Memorial Day, a fact that I mentioned (yes the things which I grow in my garden do let me do the blog posting from time to time) in a couple of blog entries this past May which you may refer to by clicking here and here). 


Moreover, will the beginning of a calendar year change to the first Monday closest to January 1st to create a long week-end for the law-makers who spend their time creating such changes instead of programs that their constituents need?


How long will it before lawmakers try to forbid it to snow or rain on days that precipitation would cramp their style? 


Be that as it may, the conversation regarding changing Halloween has been started; there is a lot of media agenda surrounding it, including a You Tube video on the subject which is posted below:




AND WITH THIS,  WE MAY SOON BE NEARING THE END OF ANOTHER TRADITION, BUT NOT BEFORE WE CELEBRATE THE "OFFICIAL" HALLOWEEN THIS COMING MONDAY!  If you are interested in getting any of my Halloween cards (that have been mentioned in previous posts throughout this month of October) you can view the selections of cards that I have designed for  Halloween via the Card Shoppe Pages of my web-site Patricia Youngquist Photo-Art. A link to the specific location for these cards within the Card Shoppe Pages may be found by clicking here. They are only available in boxed sets on the Internet due to shipping regulations. However, if you live in the New York City area, my Halloween cards may be purchased as "singles" via Gifts by Helen, the woman who sells the painted cat rocks which have been featured in a number of my previous blog posts that you may refer to with a downloadable brochure that can be accessed by clicking here or by referring to the labels menu on the left hand side of this blog entry and referring to either Gifts by Helen or Painted Rocks. Please click here for her vending location and her contact information. If you decide to e-mail her, please indicate in the subject line of your email that you read about her endeavors on this blog. And, if you would like to contact me about any of the content in today's blog post and prefer to leave your questions or concerns in a "comment" as opposed to sending me an e-mail, but you are new to posting things in a "comments field", you may click here for directions.

Happy Cinco de Mayo from the Physocarpus opulifolius (Coppertina) to you

Allow me to introduce myself on this day known as Cinco de Mayo, a name I like pronouncing instead of saying May 5th. In any event, my name is Physocarpus opulifolius, however, you can call me Coppertina — just don't call me Coppertone. I am so over those suntan lotion jokes when it comes to my name. In any event, I am posting an entry to this blog from where I usually stand, in the extreme northwest corner of the urban terrace garden belonging to Patricia Youngquist, who normally writes the blog that you now are reading, which she calls The Last Leaf Gardener. With all her focus lately on her Paeonia suffruiticosa (Tree Peony) and her Tulipa (Tulips) in her blog entries these past few days. I am ready to rename the blog, The Last Straw Gardener, if she doesn't write about me! Did you know that since this past April she wrote about the tulips six, yes six times? Count them:

ONE: May 4th 2011

TWO: May 1st 2011

THREE: April 30th 2011

FOUR: April 29th 2011

FIVE: ;April 27th 2011

SIX: April 26th 2011

Well, actually it's five times, because one of the tulips took it upon himself to post his opinion (the April 27th post) about a Sylvia Plath poem where he bemoaned her reference to tulips. How ungrateful! No poet ever wrote about a Physocarpus opulifolius. I mean the tulips are fairly newcomers to The Last Leaf Gardener's garden, and I have been here for nearly one year, and I don't recall her ever writing a post about me! But the tulips? All those posts about them occurred in less than one month! I guess I should be used to flowers getting attention by now. After all, last year, my gardener (aka your blogger) posted about her Paeona suffruiticosa (Tree Peony) six times in six weeks, and remember, she was only posting once a week in those days, so the Paeonia suffruiticosa got all the“press”last year!

ONE: May 29th 2010

TWO: May 22nd 2010

THREE: April 24th 2010

FOUR: April 23th 2010

FIVE: April 17th 2010

SIX: April 10th 2010

Do you realize, dear reader, that your blogger even featured her Paeonia suffruiticosa in the back page of her downloadable brochure? This brochure, as you may know, are where The Last Leaf Gardener“show–cases”some of her selections of her line of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication, which she sells on her web–site. These creations are mostly based on images of things that she grows in her garden, but so far I've not made the cut. So, if you'd like some images of me, I highly recommend that you contact my gardener (a.k.a. your blogger) and suggest that she render some photos of me into her unique collection of correspondence materials, or even a fine print. Additionally, The Last Leaf Gardener has already posted about the Paeonia suffruiticosa four times this year, and she only re–opened her garden the week of April 13th, so it has not even been a month and the peony already has four posts!

ONE: May 3rd 2011

TWO:May 1st 2011

THREE: April 16th 2011

FOUR: April 13th 2011

What about featuring me? After all, with my coppery–orange foliage, I provide a beautiful contrast (if I do say so myself) to the H.F. Young Clematiswhose leaves you can see to my left in the photograph posted above this blog entry, and if you look closely, you might even see the many, many buds that are about to burst into gorgeous purple flowers, which of course, The Last Leaf Gardener blogged about last year without mentioning my name.

I guess I shouldn't take it so personally, after all The Last Leaf Gardener hasn't posted much (if anything) about the little guy to my right (in the photograph at the top of this blog entry), who goes by the name Acer shirasawanum (Autumn Moon) and whom I've nicknamed Limey because of his leaves.

BTW, that purple color that you see in front of his container is basil and it smells SO good. And speaking of containers, I can't feel left out when it comes to where she houses me. I have pretty nice digs, eh? Actually I just got them earlier this week when Juan V did some repotting, and I love 'em! I used to be in terra–cotta, and that's nice too, but my rim cracked (at the end of my growing season last year) while I was being moved out of the corner by Juan V and Patricia, which they did because they wanted to protect me from the harsh winter elements.

I was safely wrapped — like everything else in this garden — for the winter by The Last Leaf Gardener and Juan V before this past winter's onset as you may know from the blog entry discussing urban garden winterizing. Since I'm not on Facebook (yet), you can check out my photos, both in my former terra–cotta home and also what I looked like in my winer gear when I was just before I was unwrapped for the spring.

However, since I'm in a New York terrace garden, I'm really lovin' my new“Viducci”home, especially since my garden comrades already have Viduccis! The Autumn Clematis (which is on a diagonal from me so I get to stare at it) got its Viducci two years ago, while the Actinida kolomikta and Actimida (Kiwi Vine) got their Viducci last spring, and the Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush, Grace) got her Viducci last fall. These can all be seen in the photographs posted below which were taken this past autumn.

FYI, the Autumn Clematis is going to be featured with the Actinida lolomikta and Actimida (Kiwi Vine) in a YouTube movie about the life in an urban garden from the Kiwi's point of view, as mentioned in a previous post.

And an image of the Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush, Grace) has been rendered into a greeting card that is not only available through the store–front but it has been featured in The Last Leaf Gardener's On-Line Brochure in the section featuring single-sided cards, and Continus Coggygria (Smokey Bush, Grace)has been the subject of a number of posts including this one, this one, and this one.

Hopefully, I'll“join the ranks”and be featured in The Last Leaf Gardener's line of invitations, event program covers, greeting cards, or movies, but for now, dear reader, thanks for hearing me out. I guess my new container has given me the confidence to boast and post on my own behalf. It's black color is pretty elegant, don't you think? (You probably have heard how New Yorkers love the color black, and I gotta say, as a Coppertina who has seen it all, so do I.)

And, before I leave you, let me wish you, once again, a Happy Cinco de Mayo, a great excuse I've heard for having a Margarita. My gardener had this to say about a grapefruit/cilantro variety that is pictured below (and available down the block from where she lives):

“What EVEN Jimmy Buffet (when he was wasted again in Margaritaville) may not have known is, while having“booze in the blender,”may render a“frozen concoction”that helped him“hang on,”having a Grapefruit (yes, I said grapefruit) Margarita at Santa Fe (a restaurant service southwestern cuisine in the Upper West Side of New York City, just off Columbus Avenue on 71st Street), you will be doing more for yourself than just 'hangin on.' This is without a doubt the best margarity in New York, and deserving of a nod from The Daily News' Best of New York. The grapefruit Margarita (pictured above) is refreshing, with just the right potency, and it was“designed by bartender extraordinaire, Alex (pictured below) . . .

. . . who gives all the credit to a bar he came upon by chance by traveling to Pennsylvania of all places. What makes it better than the booze-in–the–blender Margaritas? Well, first of all, no blender — just wonderful ingredients that include fresh white grapefruit, agave, guava nectar, fresh lime juice, cilantro infused tequila and of curse the mixology skills and secrets of Ales. The grapefruit margarita can be had at Santa Fe, located at 73 West 71st Street, a fun bar and superb restaurant serving southwestern cuisine. Open Sun–Thurs from 11:30AM–11:00PM and Fri–Sat from 11:30AM–12:00AM. Credit Cards accepted. 212.724.0822.”

Now dear reader, I'm signing off, but do feel free to put in a good word for me, the Coppertina, when you next contact The Last Leaf Gardener, and do enjoy your Cinco de Mayo, whether you are puttering in your garden, toasting with a Margarita, or just going about your day.

Dearest Tulip, Even you could not console Sylvia Plath . . .

These three wide mouthed tulips that are at the northeast portion of my urban terrace garden have just opened up, and in doing so they have brought to my attention the fact that a  white tulip that is directly across from them, in the southeast corner of my terrace garden, has posted a blog entry voicing his concerns about Sylvia Plath's poem, Tulips. This poem, as you may recall, was posted by yours truly a little over a week ago, and if you'd like to refer to it, please click here.




Apparently this tulip (and apparently wannabe-blogger,) who resides in a lovely bowl supported by a unique rod iron stand, and now has company because his friends have just started to open, (as seen in the photograph posted below). was a little distressed at Ms. Plath's imagery in likening the tulip's opening to "the mouth of an African cat" and was insulted that the "tulips ate her oxygen", when really all the tulips probably wanted to do, my tulip explained to me today, in earnest, was to cheer her up, make her well again.

I tried to tell my tulip that humans are complicated, and sometimes, when they are in despair, they want and feel the need to stay in a bad state. I let my tulip know that if I knew why this was so, I would be earning a much better wage than I am now. My tulips know I love them because I give them great care, and surround them with beautiful friends, as evidenced in the aerial photograph, which was taken by Juan V yesterday and is posted below. (The vantage point is the roof of the building where I live, which is the only way anyone can look down on my entire garden unless they live in one of the surrounding high rise buildings.)

However, I did explain to the tulip that when a human is in despair, such as Sylvia Plath was, it does not matter to them whether they are cared for or not, nor does having material things matter. The only thing people in a state of depression want is what Ms. Plath stated, "I didn't want flowers, I only wanted to lie with my hands turned up and utterly empty".

I also confided in my tulip, telling him that there was a time when I did not want to be consoled with flowers. Tulips in fact. The tulips that grew alongside of the house where I grew up. The tulips that my grandmother wanted me to enjoy when I was eleven years old, but, at that time, I preferred to stay in my bedroom with an air-conditioner on to block out the chirping birds, and with room darkening shades pulled all the way down, as far as they could go, and, with the little bit of light that seeped in, I would lie in bed — instead of going to school or learning to do pirouettes in dance class as my sisters were doing — and watch a bug crawl in and out of a small hole in the wall. 



I did not want tulips. I wanted the neurofibromas that were multiplying on my torso, scalp and face to disappear (which were a result of my Neurofibromatosis condition (a condition which I blogged about some time ago). I also wanted to see without needing glasses that caused the kids at school to call me Coke-Bottles, but, most of all, I wanted my father to move back home so that my mother would stop crying and crying, and I truly believed that if my father saw how ill and sad I was, he'd move back, and we'd be a happy family again.




But the years came and went, he did not move back, and I did not go outside to look at our tulips nor did I go to school much, preferring to stay and watch that bug  crawl in and out of the small hole in my bedroom wall — in the safeness of my darkroom —  than face the stigma of my having lumps and bumps brought on by my having neurofibromatosis, nor did I want to face the taunting that occurred due to my thick glasses to assist me in my extreme myopia, nor did I want to face the stigma of being a child of divorce (which was huge back in the day), and I certainly did not want anyone to give me tulips — or any other flower — and pretend that everything was all right.




Today, I rejoice with my flowers, appreciating their beauty and appreciating the fact that I can enjoy them after so many dark years. I am luckier than Sylvia Plath, dearest tulip, because she ultimately gave in to despair, dying from suicide: and so you see, my sweet tulip, even you could not console Sylvia Plath. 

Remember, Sidney Lumet, darling: "Great work lives on with us forever, much more important than an Oscar. Ya-dig?"

In yesterday's post I expressed my appreciation for the sentiment expressed in the comic strip, Mutts, (hinting that if one was quiet, they could hear the flowers singing in the rain), and early this morning I was greeted in my garden by a few more new visitors, including the tulips that you see in the photograph posted at the top of this blog entry. They are at the northeast area of my terrace garden and almost a direct diagonal from the tulips that I wrote about in a previous post which included Sylvia Plath's poem about tulips,and it may be read (or reread) by clicking here.


I had come outside in the wee hours of the morning to water my urban garden and to write my Saturday morning blog entry. I had planned to write about Sidney Lumet, because he died four weeks ago today (after a battle with lymphoma), and I have been meaning to acknowledge his memory — or more honestly, my memory of him). However, when I saw these new tulip arrivals, I became very quiet within my heart, and I realized that not only could I hear my flowers singing in the rain, but they were also willing to act as a muse, so let me, without further ado, proceed with my recollections of  Sidney Lumet, the acclaimed film director whose last film, ironically, was Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, a film that took its title from an Irish saying,"May you be in heaven a full half-hour before the devil knows you're dead." 


I met Sidney Lumet in 1989 on the set of Family Business.
This was a film starring Sean Connery, Matthew Broderick, and Dustin Hoffman (whom I'd auditioned with in the past, as indicated in a previous post which you may read by clicking here). Bill McCutcheon also played a role in  Family Business, and yours truly's big moment on the silver screen was with hiI had been cast for a silent-bit — in the "role" of a nun — to play in a scene at a wake and to guard the coffin where Dohney (played by Bill McCutcheon) had been laid to rest. The thrill of having a S.A.G. (Screen Actor's Guild) card had already worn off (a feeling I touched upon in a prior post), but I was grateful for the assignment. At least the fun of creating cards, based on a given role, to send to casting directors and talent agents, so that they would consider me for subsequent jobs (an exercise in futility, in a way, since I did not enjoy the work) was still strong. Perhaps this endeavor in card making was a forerunner for the greeting cards that I create now, with my philosophy to design communication materials for folks who want to send invitations that preserve a moment in time, have event program covers that enhance an occasion, and send greeting cards that are about more than communication, as evidenced in the selections I've created which are available in the store-front pages of my web-site.

Therefore, my work on Family Business was certainly no exception when it came to creating cards, and what is posted below is the card I came up with on the set of that film.

As you can see, yours truly, habit and all, is standing at the far left of the casket, and Bill McCutcheon can be seen in the casket — winking. Hearing my plan for the text on top to read, "They're Dyin' To Work With Me", brought a lot of smiles to the film set, especially when Mr. McCutheon and I posed for the card I envisioned. Sidney Lumet, upon seeing Mr. McCutcheon and I pose for my card, remarked to Dustin Hoffman,"Dusty, darling, they are having fun over there! " 


Everyone on the set was "darling" to Mr. Lumet, even an extra, who was peeved that Lumet needed the entire cast and crew (including all extras) to return to the set the other day. This extra was peeved because she had scheduled an appointment with a psychic, and complained bitterly that she'd have to pay a hefty cancellation fee.


I took one of those theatre "pregnant pauses" and replied to her,"Must not be a great psychic or he'd of known you were going to be called into work and would not have scheduled the appointment."


Mr. Lumet roared with laughter when he heard this and quipped, "Did you hear that Dusty darling? The nun said get a new psychic!"


My recollection of Sidney Lumet isn't the most prolific but I am thankful to have had the opportunity to meet and work with him, even though it was at a time that, when it came to show business, "I'd had enough and couldn't take it anymore!"*


* FYI, this line as you may know, is from the film Network, a film which was directed by Sidney Lumet, and one of several films for which he was nominated for Oscar's best director: a reward he never received. Perhaps that is because he was critical of Hollywood, saying, "New York is filled with reality. Hollywood is fantasyland." Lumet did win a "consolation" prize from The Director's Guild, and he had this to say about never receiving an Oscar, "I wanted one, damn it, and felt I deserved one!"


It is written that Spike Lee's reply regarding Lumet's sentiment about not winning an Oscar was, "Great work lives on with us forever, much more important than an Oscar. Ya-dig?"


And I cannot think of a better way to leave this post dedicated to Mr. Sidney Lumet, but I welcome your thoughts on him and his work.

It's me "the lone white tulip" : Did Sylvia Plath really say "mouth of an African Lion"?

Hello, it's me, the white tulip, writing to you on Wednesday, April the 27th, (sneaking in a posting, since The Last Leaf Gardener "normally" only posts on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays). I have opened up a bit since yesterday as you can see in my photograph posted above, and now, what I want to know is in that poem, Tulips — the one by Sylvia Plath — that was posted yesterday, did Ms. Plath really say, that when open we have a "mouth of an African Lion"? It's no wonder we are slow to open at times . . .  even the buds next to me seem to be apprehensive, they are not opening very much at all, and I'd love some company.


And, BTW, if you do tip-toe through tulips that are like me and my friends, (I mean my friends, and me) as Tiny Tim and those Gold-Diggers seem to advocate, puh-lee-za be careful. We aren't as tough as we look. However,  I do encourage you to tip-toe through the store-front of this blogger's web-site;  there are some wonderful selections of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication. (See my blogger's philosophy about this).

Sylvia Plath and Tiny Tim. Even The Gold-Diggers. The Tulipas (Tulips) Speak to Everyone — yours truly included — during this Easter Tide

Easter, which was celebrated this past Sunday, is not just a single day, but an entire season known as the Easter Tide, which lasts fifty-days from Easter to Pentecost. Easter Tide is a time of new life, and, on this second day, I was blessed with the appearance of new life — a single white tulip (as seen in the photograph above). Its delicate petals against my thick rustic brick wall was not a contrast lost on me. This is just one of the nuances that makes urban gardening such a joy. However, I have never grown tulips in my garden before, and at the end of last season, Juan V suggested that bulbs be planted.




Just three weeks ago their leaves began to peek out from their winter-gear (as seen below),

the winter-gear  that they had been "dressed" in this past December, as discussed in my post on Garden-Winterizing. From the looks of the buds in the photograph at the top of this blog entry, the lone tulip, will soon be joined by other tulips, whose colors remain a mystery to me, although the buds are providing subtle hints (tufts of magenta? pink? lilac?) as seen on the bud tips below,

however, for me, the not knowing what color they will be is another pleasure of gardening — urban or otherwise. Perhaps, the mystery of the tulip's color is like being pregnant, and not knowing if the baby will be a boy or a girl, but knowing it will be loved no matter what it is. But, for today, the white color of my tulip is another detail that is significant to me, as the white color of tulips is a symbol of forgiveness, and one of  the Easter season's celebrations is knowing the power of forgiveness.

Tulips, of course, come in many beautiful colors, including a striking "purple with the color  symbolism of royalty and nobility", a stunning "pink associated with happiness", a vibrant "yellow associated with friendship", as well as a magnificent "red associated with expressing love". There are many, many more varieties of tulip colors, as most everyone knows, and if they are truly blessed have also seen; however, for purposes of this blog posting, I've included these more "common" colors along with their associations, which were presented in this link, because of the writer's other observation, that "if you visualize a tulip flower, the first thought/feeling that engulfs the mind is that of comfort and coziness". The "comfort and coziness" of the red tulip was something the poet, Sylvia Plath, deplored as evident in her nine lined poem, Tulips, which has seven stanzas that total sixty-three lines, and, for your convenience is posted below.

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here.

Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in

I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly

As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands.

I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions.

I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses

And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff

Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut.

Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in.

The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble,

They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps,

Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another,

So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water

Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently.

They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep.

Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage ----

My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox,

My husband and child smiling out of the family photo;

Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat

Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address.

They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations.

Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley

I watched my tea set, my bureaus of linen, my books

Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head.

I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn't want any flowers, I only wanted

To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty.

How free it is, you have no idea how free ----

The peacefulness is so big it dazes you,

And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets.

It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them

Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me.

Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe

Lightly, through their white swadlings, like an awful baby.

Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds.

They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down,

Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colour,

A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched.

The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me

Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins,

And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow

Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips,

And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself.

The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough,

Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss.

Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise.

Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river

Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine.

They concentrate my attention, that was happy

Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves.

The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals;

They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat,

And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes

Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me.

The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea,

And comes from a country far away as health.

Not wanting to leave you with such dark thoughts, dear reader, (although they are understandable), you can also bear in mind that performers, such as Gold-Diggers and Tiny Tim, perceived tulips in a different way, as you may know from the lyrics posted below of

Tip Toe Through the Tulips.

Tiptoe through the window

By the window, that is where I'll be

Come tiptoe through the tulips with me

Knee deep in flowers we'll stray

We'll keep the showers away

And if i kiss you in the garden. in the moonlight

Will you pardon me?

And tiptoe through the tulips with me.

And with that dear reader, I invite you as spring progresses, to come tip-toe through the store-front of my web-site, where  I offer a collection of invitations that preserve a moment in time, event program covers that enhance any occasion, and greeting cards that are about more than communication, using images that are inspired from my terrace garden.