Terrible longing
Lust is one of the big sins, right up there with sloth (my personal favorite) and simony--whatever that is. The usual objects of lust are money, power or sex, but I have become fixated on trillium. So ephemeral, so simple, so precious. I want to cut them and put them in a vase, or dig them up and transplant them home--I want to possess them. They are not gaudy and sociable like the daffodil, which permits itself to be herded chock-a-block into beds. They are modest and retiring, thriving in the most anemic of soil; they hide their beauty under partial shade. They keep a discreet distance from one another, lightly salted along the woodland trails. Far from the aggressive perfume of lilac, they cast no more aroma than cold spring water.
It's one thing to patiently wait out the cruel winter, then to take to the blackfly-infested woods, where one can savor their natural virtues in situ. But this terrible longing, this criminal impulse to uproot them--it can only lead to dining on larks in aspic, to buying strawberries out of season, to keeping a cheetah in the apartment on Central Park West. Were the trillium all mine, hoarded beneath my window, I would slaughter a dozen chipmunks to protect them. I would take a chainsaw to the pine trees if they so much as blocked the light.
posted by Dale Hobson @ 5/07/2009
10 comments
10 Comments:
Dale,
Often your musings are a bit much for me but you did yourself proud today and made me laugh out loud at work. The slaughter a dozen chipmunks was my favorite.
Thanks.
Michele Whalen
We are also Trillium lovers. Our office was in an industrial park across the street from a forest with miles of Trilliums. We knew that this land was slated for development so we did the unthinkable and dug a bunch up. We now enjoy them on our property and feel we saved these beauties from being obliterated. We even have the rare red ones.
Oooh I covet them as well -yesterday morning their little reddish purple faces were all looking at the pine-needled floor as the rain fell, and I realized that they had emerged intact from the winter, rising without a sound over one day or two. And I couldn't bring myself to even disturb one to look at its face, it seemd so fragile and tremulous in the early light. But what pleasure in the woods in the early spring. Thanks for reminding me.
Ah, the longing. For years I coveted my neighbors' trillium through the backyard fence. When new owners came in and planned to excavate the back yard, I asked them if I could save the plant. I made friends with my new neighbors that day and gained possession of the prize - a twofer! If we ever leave our house, those trillium are coming with me.
Have you put your nose right next to the things? They're my favorites, too, especially the Wake Robin (it's my mill name) but another common name for them is Stinkin' Willie (also Stink Pots). In Star Lake I had white, green and burgandy trillium in my garden--gathered from "elsewhere". In North Russell I just have Stinkin' Willies.
Your thoughts gave me a smile, thank you! My own mom, my mother-in-law, my cousins and sister and I all have coveted the elusive trillium. From the woods of upstate NY to the similar climate along the mountains of western North Carolina, we all seek out and photograph these lovely flowers as they make their tender, sparse, sweet appearance each spring. Thanks for reminding me of those shared moments, pictures and stories.
I enjoyed your comment on the Trillium as I have other of your posts.
However, the Trillium caused me to pause and write.
Ilive in Cornwall Ontario and wondered if you know that the Trillium is the Provincial Flower of Ontario.
Thamks. Clion
Dale,
Your weekly post is always a bright spot in my Friday. This week's musings on trilliums struck a chord with me as I had an experience just 2 days ago of trillium lust. I went into a woods near where I had been working and lo and behold came across one lone burgundy trillium blooming amongst pine needles, emerging vines and unfolding undergrowth. It took my breath away and I have been unable to stop thinking about it. I've been plotting in my mind how I can get back there, dig it up and take it home. Yet I know that I must not - it is beautiful right where it sits and hopefully will give others the same feeling of surprised delight upon encounter.
Barbara
Dale,
With time and the right environment trilliums can fill a hillside. I've seen them. Decades ago when my Aunt Josie used to take us for our annual spring walk to Kingsfords Woods. This was way back before trilliums were listed as endangered. We (my sister and three other cousins) would bring our Mothers huge bouquets of them (quite wilted by the time we walked the mile or so back home). It was a rite of spring we still talk about. (Oh, there were hillsides of white as well as red - but the painted trilliums lived under the evergreens by the bog.)
Carol
We like all your columns, but this is one of your very best. Guilty pleasures are so much more fun when a writer expresses them so eloquently! This seems to be a bumper year for trilium in our area, so there's plenty of pleasure - and guilt - to go around. And they make repentance such a meaningful experience!
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