Wheelbarrow in the rain

Here's the wheelbarrow in the rain. Only the chickens are missing.

William Carlos Williams saw a similar view of a wet wheelbarrow and wrote a famous and much-discussed poem about it.

A Few Late Roses and em, perhaps a few too many adverbs?

Image from loot.co.za

As I have said on this blog before, I do not sympathize with the rabid wing of the anti-adverb lobby. Still, this author uses a lot of them -- some might say too many. Her favourite is "shortly." Not meaning soon, as in "See you shortly;" but to describe manner of speech, as in "Thanks," he said shortly.

Adverbs streamed relentlessly on my inner ear. Though their proliferation at times added an unintended touch of comedy, this did not stop me enjoying the story; I went on to listen to other Anne Doughty works: A Girl Names Rosie, and The Hamiltons of Ballydown.

Both these latter novels portray shockingly mean mothers. I tried to believe in these antagonists, but found it hard to credit that mothers could be so cruel and unsympathetic with their daughters. What made them like that? Doughty doesn't develop them into complex characters, or use their point of view, so the reader can only guess. A naughty reader who seeks autobiographical threads in fiction, I couldn't help but wonder if Doughty had unresolved issues with her own mum.

In any case, she portrays Ireland beautifully, both the historical version and the contemporary one. In The Hamiltons of Ballydown, a sick woman's delirium is a doorway to another time and place, allowing her to tune in to the feelings of the displaced and dispossessed people of the British Isles -- Scottish, Irish, and English -- as they went on to the New World and displaced the native peoples in their turn.

Undoubtedly, (don't mind me -- just doffing her an adverb) Doughty is good at using telling details to express setting and character. Her stories reveal her preoccupation with problems related to class, poverty and conservative feudal cultures -- universal themes.

Hose sprinkler camouflage

Camouflage. Animals do it and plants do it.

But who knew a mechanical device could blend in so well as to be almost invisible?

The sprinkler on the end of the hose is almost exactly the same colour as the falling rhododendron petals. That makes it darn hard to see.

Book timing, Orwell and Burma

Image from naderlibrary

When it comes to reading books that others recommend, I usually follow a general rule of thumb. Once three people with similar reading tastes recommend it, I read it.

But this book only took two. For two reasons. One, Orwell is such a brilliant writer. Two, I heard about it twice on the same day.

When you consider that this book was published in 1934, the odds against that are enormous.

This is how it happened. My nephew and his girl friend visited after a long trip through Southeast Asia, and they were talking about Burmese Days, which they'd read on the trip.

After we had dinner, they went to sleep off the jet lag and I went to Southbank. The Writer's Craft was given by TWS Director Wayde Compton. and I was there to meet the students, listen and learn.

Wayde was talking about George Orwell's famous essay on language, and he mentioned this very book. It hadn't been more than two hours since Lee and Kenysha had been talking about it.

"Our next trip will be to India and Burma," they informed me.

So of course I had to request it. I've been to the library twice to pick it up, getting there both times just a hair after closing. Third time should be lucky.

Then I'll have to read it, along with the twenty or thirty other books that are right at the front of my reading queue.

Backyard bunnies

For the past few days, I've been seeing bunnies in the garden. They sit on the grass and nibble as I watch.

Even looking through the window, I can't get close. Their perceptions are so sensitive that at the slightest hint of noise or movement, they hop off to a safer distance to re-commence their grazing.

I wonder what they make of the cat.

Calla Lily at night

Showy in the daytime, this creamy white calla lily is spectacular against the velvet dark. Though white is the classical colour, these gorgeous flowers also come in pink, purple and bronze.

It came to my garden in the strangest way. I happened to be outside the Newton Library in the fall when the gardeners were lifting and dividing the clumps.

Another woman was eyeing the growing pile. "What are you going to do with those?"

"We have to throw them away," said the girl gardener, with evident regret. "Unless you want some?"

She did want some, and emboldened, I asked for some too. Last year I divided them and they are doing splendidly.

Tulip shadow at night

As well as being gorgeous by day, a gardens can provide surprising night views. This is the shadow of a late mauve tulip, cast across a low wall and a recently repaired sidewalk.