Well, this post comes as a surprise to me! As I wrote that latest ‘Musings’ post I had this post from the past niggling at my mind. It must have continued niggling at my subconscious because I dreamt of Monet last night. I would have loved to have included reference to Monet’s series of ‘Water Lilies’ paintings in my musings, but it would simply have been unwieldy. It would have been just too much.
This morning, however, I realize that the powerful tugging I’ve been feeling is that ‘writer’s sense’ picking up on the connection between Monet’s water lilies and Will Shakespeare’s Sonnet 94. That creative sense, that writer’s sense, was nudging me to pull back from understanding the lilies at the end of the sonnet as symbols for a visage and see them as connections to that post from three-and-a-half years ago.
The summer’s flower is to the summer sweet,/Though to itself it only live and die,/But if that flower with base infection meet,/The basest weed outbraves his dignity:/For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds;/Lilies that fester smell far worse than weeds.
That image of desiccated water lilies festering in the cracking muck of a dead river bed is rather haunting, no?
Barbara Butler McCoy, 2012
[Photos: Barbara Butler McCoy, Water Lilies in Italian Garden at Biltmore Estate, NC, July 2012]