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Bread Loaf, Canada, Cornish Blue, daffodils, flowers, Italo Calvino, Michael Armstrong, Walter Benjamin
“Above all, he must not be afraid to return again and again to the same matter; to scatter it as one scatters earth, to turn it over as one turns over soil.”– Walter Benjamin
For some reason, I cannot shake the fact that I have not bought daffodils this spring. Spring is over for the most part, and I did however buy peonies, sweet peas, roses, stock, lisianthus, ranunculus, and even lilac. These are all important to me yes, but who didn’t make the kindergarten pièce de résistance: the egg carton daffodil. Sometimes, mom and I call them daffodoodles. Maybe it’s a Canadian thing. But the Canadian women in my family know their flowers. Thank God, because I always did too, and now I am only one step away from gaining my Canadian citizenship. Therefore, by osmosis or Canuk Intervention, I too know my flowers.
This past summer, I took one of the greatest courses around. Not because of the literature, but because of Michael Armstrong. We studied Italo Calvino, a fantastical Italian writer from the 60s and 70s. Continue reading
Posted by my words on a string | Filed under Canada, Family, Grad School, Life, Music, Writing
