Sweet and Sour

Walking the past few days in Central Park is wonderful but so is walking along the Mississippi River with my wife and my dogs. The air was crisp, the paths were empty, and the sun was shy but evident, intermittently poking its head in and out of the clouds. As we loaded the car for our return, Bonnie told me of a home where a man had planted an entire yard of tulips as a tribute to his deceased daughter. "This I must see" I said in a demanding voice.

Ten minutes later, I stood in awe and with great respect. My head was jumbled by the contrasts of the beauty of the garden and the reasons for its existence. I was delighted that these flowers were there before my eyes. Yet, I was saddened that they were the result of loss of a couple's child. You see, a loving a father planted more than an acre with tulips, his daughter's favorite flower. He planted many different varieties which bloom and grow in periodic succession beginning in early spring at the curb and flourish, with the season, in a march staright towards the house. Perhaps he did this such that her life would return to him each year. Whatever the reason, the progression of old life to new was remarkable. I walked up to his door to ask permission to take the images. As I pressed the door bell and waited for his arrival, I noticed at least seven or eight vases throughout the house, each with a dozen or more tulips. His tribute carried from the street to the breakfast table.

I blipped a bit and then stood in the gardens. My mind went to a few years back when I told my father that my older brother had passed on. He, at first, sat silently.....deep in a state of shock. And, then, he said...."It is not supposed to be this way, Giacomo, this is not the natural order". He went on to explain that children are meant to bury their parents and not the other way around. He said that the "order of nature has been changed" for him. After those stunning words, extended silence saturated the air. My mind shifted back to the gardens in which I stood. I thought, if my father had been a man with a green thumb and had my brother had loved tulips, our family home would have looked like this.

Tonight, I sorted through the six or seven images I captured in his yard. None of then were great but I chose and cropped this one for the symbolism of the lone and most colorful tulip which seemed to bow slightly to the lens. And, behind it, sits a family of hellebore which were very much alive but focused entirely on the regal tulip. It reminded me of this family's devotion to their departed daughter. In big, the hellebore seem to be kneeling towards the tulip.

Thank you for the kind comments and views on my NYC blips. Off to bed I go as I have a 7 a.m. flight to LA. I managed to catch up a bit on journals today but hope to get fully up to speed later this week.