By David Malouf
The Blakes have an indoor garden, cubic foot
of earth in a painted trough, where gaily flourish
cactus [of pigmy size], wax-plants and china
garden-creatures, rabbit, snail and frog.
The Blakes are English and believe a touch
of green gives to the mind that necessary
signal for release, will open vistas,
between four walls, of forest, field and sky.
Meanwhile, beyond the sill, a violent season
hammers the land, rainforests quail, sharp whips
of water lash the valleys, and the jungle
pushes through fences and split paving-stones.
But no storm shakes this cactus that the Blakes
tend like a favourite pet; the china beasts
commit no nuisance, and the gay wax-plants
put forth each year one glossy scarlet bud.
For here, in a trough of earth, the Blakes have come
to terms with a continent; heed neither thunder
nor flame; nor even, when the first drops clatter,
the old bull-frog that trumpets in their drains.
Quickie because I am watching Colbert with Adam in between bouts of laundry, which he came over to do since he was visiting a local friend this evening and is seeing his childhood friend Emiliano, visiting the US from Mexico, for most of the day tomorrow. His day was more exciting than mine: I mostly did boring stuff, apart from an EX raid with a big crowd of friends, one of whom caught Mewtwo for me.
We watched Supergirl, which was marginally better on family stuff, and Elementary, always about the money this season, around an episode of The Handmaid's Tale (even more upsetting than usual) that son had already seen since he gets Hulu for free with his student Amazon Prime account. From Longwood Gardens in the early spring, orchids on exhibit during the Orchid Extravaganza and in the permanent Orchid House: