in which man explores his own amazement." Christopher Fry
For the Sleepwalkers
Tonight I want to say something wonderful
for the sleepwalkers who have so much faith
in their legs, so much faith in the invisible
arrow carved into the carpet, the worn path
that leads to the stairs instead of the window,
the gaping doorway instead of the seamless mirror.
I love the way that sleepwalkers are willing
to step out of their bodies into the night,
to raise their arms and welcome the darkness,
palming the blank spaces, touching everything.
Always they return home safely, like blind men
who know it is morning by feeling shadows.
And always they wake up as themselves again.
That's why I want to say something astonishing
like: Our hearts are leaving our bodies.
Our hearts are thirsty black handkerchiefs
flying through the trees at night, soaking up
the darkest beams of moonlight, the music
of owls, the motion of wind-torn branches.
And now our hearts are thick black fists
flying back to the glove of our chests.
We have to learn to trust our hearts like that.
We have to learn the desperate faith of sleep-walkers
who rise out of their calm beds
and walk through the skin of another life.
We have to drink the stupefying cup of darkness
and wake up to ourselves, nourished and surprised.
~ Edward Hirsch ~
This is Henry Duelberg salvia, discovered by horticulturist Greg Grant in an old cemetery surrounding the graves of Henry (d. 1935) and Augusta Duelberg (d. 1903). Maybe Grant named the salvia after Henry because Henry outlived Augusta by 32 years, and the "new" salvia showed similar longevity. Nothing else had survived
the Texas heat and drought, except for this blue salvia. It has been named a Texas Superstar for 2006. I've had it for 3 years and love it for its hardiness and drought tolerance.
Potato vine. Not sweet potato vine which I also love, but a perennial vine given to me by a wonderful gardener who has turned her huge lot into a series of gardens. She dug up a bit, wrapped it in a paper towel, and sent it home with me, where its glory has increased each year.