SPRINGTIME CAN KILL YOU
Happy birthday, Billy. And thanks for teaching me about flowers. On my early-morning walks to campus this week I photographed all of these plants, beginning with these purple hyacinths you planted in the yard. On my birthday, in October, all the plants are in their last flourish. And on yours, in March, they're in their first. I just thought of that today. The blooms are so touching now. I've said to myself about 50 times this week "springtime can kill you," in homage to Jolie Holland, to whom you also introduced me, thinking of how her songs are about the surfeit of life and the unbearable sweetness of things — thus her plea for that old-fashioned morphine, to soften the poignancy.
The first thing you gave me was a hand-drawn map of your mother's yard showing all the flower beds and various plants. The first picture I had of you was taken in her garden. Occasionally, I find landscape ideas you drew for our house — they make me smile at their outlandishness, and I always think, yes, I should do that!
The first poem I heard you read was about fiddlehead ferns.
I remember when we had no money and you would go out in the spring and spend what seemed like an extravagant amount on plants. I saw a movie recently — The Painted Veil — where two characters contemplate the wisdom of "wasting" money on flowers that are destined to die soon. Like you, they decide nothing could be more worthwhile.
posted by kc @ 5:52 PM
8 comments
8 Comments:
It's intoxicating, huh? I'm always amazed by the first spring flowers. Every year they are surprising in their color after so much gray winter.
And the scents! And the dew! You forget these things exist.
Beautiful pictures!
What does "springtime can kill you" mean? Springtime is unbearably sweet and poignant?
I get that feeling more often in autumn. Perhaps because I dislike Kansas summers, and the coolness of autumn can take my breath away.
But I get how it applies to spring as well.
Thanks, KC.
I think Springtime Can Kill You is two fold: indulging in carnal desires can kill you and not indulging in carnal desires can kill you. It is sort of a modern Canterbury Tale, modern seems like the wrong word. Springtime awakens something our ancient selves.
Lyrics:
Go down the backroads
Don't take it too slow
You don't have the time for a long flirtation
You don't have the time for the least hesitation
Roses all are blooming
Lilacs all aglow
Honeysuckle vine shine shine
Oh get out, get out of your house
Springtime, springtime can kill you
Just like it did poor me
Don't you see we're all hurt the same way
So get out, get out of your house
High on the moonshine bodies entwine
Don't you see it's better this way
Don't you see it's better this way
You can't be too shy
You know the reason why
If you don't go get what you need
Something's going to break on the inside
Springtime, springtime can kill you
Just like it did poor me
Don't you see we're all hurt the same way
So get out, get out of your house
My neighbor's crabapple tree
Thanks for the lyrics, B. Good point with the Canterbury Tales.
That tree is fabulous, Erin, I can't wait until mine get that big!
Springtime CAN kill in the south - some folks who have bad allergies can attest to that! The pollen is blowing around like snow and everything is covered in a greenish yellow. It's like this every year for about 3 weeks or so and every year I forget why my car looks so bad.
Lucky for me, I don't have much of an allergy problem.
Robert Herrick:
Come, let us go, while we are in our prime,
And take the harmless folly of the time!
We shall grow old apace, and die
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short, and our days run
As fast away as does the sun.
And, as a vapour or a drop of rain,
Once lost, can ne'er be found again,
So when or you or I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
All love, all liking, all delight
Lies drown'd with us in endless night.
Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna, come, let 's go a-Maying.
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