In My Dreams

In my dreams, I’m not bound to walk beneath the earth.
In my dreams, my guardian will return and lend his wings,
his wings to carry me aloft, his wings to carry me,
a lost and lonely child, alone in the dark
~ from “In My Dreams/Thumbelina’s Lament” by Lynn Emberg Purse ©2008

ThumbelinaThis morning, the sun returned.  What a powerful experience, after days of gray skies and waves of snow, freezing rain, and ice. The myth of Persephone, the queen of the underworld who is allowed to return aboveground in the spring and summer, is on my mind these days.  Even as I start seeds for this year’s garden, I have been working on a musical based on the fairy tale of Thumbelina, a variant of the Persephone myth. I have always loved this tale, especially since Thumbelina’s good deed of saving the swallow who falls underground earns her a pair of wings and the gift of spending the rest of her life aboveground, living in a flower.  But before that happens, she must go through her own “dark night of the soul” – living underground for the winter and being promised in marriage to Mr. Mole, a wealthy character who will never let her go above ground again. In the spring, the swallow returns to rescue her and flies her to a garden.

The Persephone myth is a reflection of the rhythm of the seasons, from the hibernation of winter to the blossoming of spring, but from a psychological view, it is more than that.  The journey “underground” is often compared to the “dark night of the soul” that many have experienced, a time of living underground in one’s psyche while experiencing doubt and despair, but eventually returning to sunlight.  In a similar vein, the Hero’s Journey was explored in depth by Joseph Campbell and brought into popular consciousness. The mythical journey of the reluctant hero surviving chaos and danger in order to retrieve something of worth is a constant source of story for books and films.  Last night’s Oscar winning film, Argo, is a perfect example of a story that never loses its power.

BlackOrpheusposterAnother variant on this theme is that of Orpheus, who could charm the stones with his music and who descended into the underworld to retrieve his wife Eurydice. Perhaps you remember the 1959 film Black Orpheus – filmed in Brazil by French director Marcel Camus – and the beautiful song of the same name written by Luis Bonfa. An adaptation of the Orpheus myth set in Rio de Janeiro and featuring samba and bossa nova music, the movie won the 1960 Academy Award for Best Foreign Language Film.


butterfly and flowersIt is late February and spring is around the corner. The treetops are turning red with the rising sap, bulbs are rising from the earth, and I can feel the sunlight on my face. I’m ready to emerge from the underground and spend the rest of the season living in a flower.

In my dreams, I feel sunlight on my face.
In my dreams, I have found another place,
a place where color and light have blended just right
into a rose, a flower, a bloom, a place to call home
Where I can live and be me, be free.
A place where the swallow can go, a place that I know,
a place in my dreams.
~ from “In My Dreams/Thumbelina’s Lament” by Lynn Emberg Purse ©2008

Signs of Spring

I glanced out the window at the signs of spring. The sky was almost blue, the trees were almost budding, the sun was almost bright. ~ Millard Kaufman

The onslaught of the freeze thaw cycle is upon us. We have shifted from bitter cold and heavy snow to balmy sunny days twice in the past four weeks. This morning, in the midst of a short lived thaw, I discovered snow drops blooming and hellebores in full bud.  Signs of spring are everywhere, from the green snouts of daffodils poking into the world to buds swelling on the cherry tree. A promise of what is to come.

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Snowed Under

“Snowed under” – overworked; exceptionally busy (The Free Dictionary)

snowy tree trunkIt has been snowing a lot lately, and I have been feeling “snowed under” both literally and figuratively.  Winter is beautiful and I love my work, but sometimes it is just too much of a good thing. I hope to resume regular posts this weekend. Until then, enjoy a few snow photos.

Snowy woods

Snowy woods

Snowy steps into the garden

Snowy steps into the garden

(all text and photographs © Lynn Emberg Purse, 2013)

A Day in the Tropics

Who loves a garden loves a greenhouse too.  ~William Cowper 

We are fortunate to have the Phipps Conservatory, a wonderful glass house, in the heart of Pittsburgh. A visit to Phipps in the dead of winter is a treat for the senses, and members can take a tripod for photography early on Sunday mornings. Last Sunday, my friend Suzan and I indulged in a ninety minute whirlwind of intense picture taking amid the tropical splendor of an orchid show. Not only was this a great winter interlude, it was also an opportunity for me to give my new camera a workout and test the waters for the equipment I may need for my  A Year in Penn’s Woods project. The challenge of taking photos with limited space in which to maneuver a tripod and varied sources of light was useful in determining what worked with my current camera gear and what needed to be changed. I’m convinced that a few more trips to this warm green space filled with flowers will be required to continue my research this winter 🙂

Enjoy the tour of my morning in the tropics.

What, I sometimes wonder, would it be like if I lived in a country where winter is a matter of a few chilly days and a few weeks’ rain; where the sun is never far away, and the flowers bloom all year long? ~ Anna Neagle

January Thaw

Winter, an artist’s sketch in charcoal,
so clearly etched against a cloud filled sky . . .
~ from the song “Winter” 

After weeks of “real” winter, complete with snow, ice, and sleet, the rains came yesterday. Thick layers of snow and ice began to crumble and melt in the suddenly warm temperatures, assaulted by alternating pounding rainstorms and soft drizzles.  By evening, a fog had arisen between the melting snow and the warm air and swirled upwards throughout the night.  This morning, mist and fog lay heavily in the woods and along the streams, turning the winter landscape into a mysteriously beautiful January thaw.

I felt as if I were moving through a dream as I walked through the woods. The dark trunks of immense oaks stood like sentinels guarding a secret kingdom in the mist, fading to gray in the distance. Drops of water clung to delicate twigs and buds like sprays of crystals. Snow lingered in pockets, slowly seeping into the garden beds and revealing fresh green growth.

January thaw is an observed but unexplained temperature rise in mid-winter found in mid-latitude North America.” (Wikipedia) The thaw is generally centered around the date of January 25, when a rise of temperatures by 10 degrees Fahrenheit occurs for about a week. The Farmer’s Almanac notes its common designation as “false spring” and compares it to the phenomenon of Indian Summer, the predictable surge of warm weather in autumn. This year, certainly, the thaw is more than 10 degrees warmer than usual; yesterday’s temperature reached 50 F and today will be a balmy 64 F.

The sun is shining now, the mist a memory. I intend to celebrate the January thaw by working in the garden while dreaming of the arrival of “real spring.” Enjoy the morning walk in the woods with me. (Click on any photo to trigger the gallery view)

There are two seasonal diversions that can ease the bite of any winter.  One is the January thaw.  The other is the seed catalogues.
–  Hal Borland