No sketching time recently. I've been busy, and tonight Joe and I are heading out as well, but I thought I'd share a poem with you until I can pick up a brush again here!
Have you ever seen flowers nonchalantly growing right out of a concrete sidewalk, or popping out of rocks on a grassy knoll? Weeds, of course, somehow find their way through bricks and driveway cracks. You can yank a weed out of the dirt, but if the most miniscule root remains, it can take hold where it's casually blown by the wind, and thrive again.
When I was in Italy, I saw flowers that literally tumbled right out of the walls on some of the homes. I remember thinking-- if it wants to, Nature will find a way to thrive, no matter what, no matter where. Even in what seems like the most unsuitable of places, things will grow.
The poet Theodore Roethke's family owned a large greenhouse, and his poems often depict influences from that life. Here in North Carolina, we are fortunate to enjoy an early spring, and right now, all of nature is just bursting at the seams, ready to grow. It made me think of this poem: I remember reading it as a child and being fascinated with Roethke's images:
Nothing would sleep in that cellar, dank as a ditch,
Bulbs broke out of boxes hunting for chinks in the dark,
Shoots dangled and drooped,
Lolling obscenely from mildewed crates,
Hung down long yellow evil necks, like tropical snakes.
And what a congress of stinks!
Roots ripe as old bait,
Pulpy stems, rank, silo-rich,
Leaf-mold, manure, lime, piled against slippery planks.
Nothing would give up life:
Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.