At the front of the house are the foxgloves. These take two years to grow and are worth the wait. These ones are as far as I know common wild foxgloves. I collected some seed from wild plants some time ago, threw it in the garden and they come up every year in all kinds of places. None flowering around the back this year though.
A sad foxglove poem by Alison Prince here
Tall by the cherry tree the foxgloves stand
pale in their purpleness, their long bells sweet
and profligate. Each one of them could fit
a lady's narrow, faithless, foxy hand.
Also a poem here by Jude Nutter features the flower and they get a brief mention in this Elizabeth Bishop poem also.
I'm in Kiltyclogher, Co Leitrim this weekend, speaking at the Seán MacDiarmada Summer School on ‘From Parliamentary Party to Sinn Féin: Challenging Authorities in County Sligo 1914-1918’.
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1 comment:
really like that alison prince poem, I had never heard of her before, enjoy your weekend!
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