Flowers, by Nicholas

I find flowers amazing. They appear delicate but yet can be
strong and resilient. Their shapes and colors vary wildly from the palest
shades to the brightest hews. I have tulips in my yard that are pure white and
some that are so deep a purple as to appear black.
I trace the progress of the season through flowers, what’s in
bloom, what is preparing flowers stalks and buds, and what has finished. Already
I have spotted tiny leaves breaking through the ground in my yard. Within weeks
flowers will appear.
When I lived in San Francisco, I marked the beginning of
spring with appearance in late February of the plum tree blossoms in Golden
Gate Park. Any day now, their pale pink flowers will appear breaking the dreary
coastal winter with their delicate brightness.
Here in Colorado, at the lower elevations, it is the
brilliant yellow of the forsythia that dares to announce Spring. Even though we
have many more weeks of winter, maybe even the worst of winter, ahead, these
tiny flowers will soon appear. I have two forsythia bushes in my yard. The
early one will show blossoms by the first of March. The other one is later by
about a month.
Around St. Patrick’s Day, I will uncover the planter boxes on
the porch and plant pansies with their delightful array of purples, yellows,
oranges, burgundies and splashes of white to brighten those late winter days.
Pansies love the cold and are beautiful in the snow. It’s the summer heat that
will kill them off.
Then some early daffodils will appear, starting what I call
their annual “death march.” I don’t know why this variety shows up so early only
to face hard freezes and heavy snow. But they persist and eventually bloom in
time for a spring snow to crush them. The snow won’t kill them, just bury them.
Fortunately, I also have later varieties with the good sense to wait until the
weather is more favorable.
Tulips are beginning to show up but they seem more patient
and wait out the winter weather to bloom later. A little bit of snow heightens
the brilliance of the colors in bloom. But it doesn’t take much to push them
all to the ground.
When it is safe to come out in late spring, the cherry tree
will overnight burst into white blossoms. And then the iris will show up. When
I was a kid, we called them flags because they bloomed around Memorial Day.
Maybe because of climate change, my iris seem to be almost finished by the end
of May.
Soon the roses will appear and the first bloom is always the
best. My favorite is the bright red rose near the back door.
When the warmth of spring begins to turn into the heat of
summer, the hawthorn trees flower. The white flowers are pretty but they,
frankly, stink. For two weeks, my backyard will smell of rotten fruit. However,
the bees love these malodorous blooms and the yard will hum with the buzzing of
thousands of bees harvesting what must be rich nectar.
All summer, my garden will be full of bees attracted to the
flowers on the herbs I grow. I use the oregano, sage, chives and thyme from the
garden but I think the bees get more use of my herbs. The little yellow arugula
flowers seem to be especial favorites.
I think climate change has altered the flowering time for the
lilies. They used to be a late summer flower with their oranges and yellows.
But now, it seems that they bloom by early July and are finished before August.
Maybe it’s the dry heat of Colorado, but late summer sees a lull in flowers.
And then in September, some come back to life—like the hot pinks and reds of
the impatiens—and bloom again before the cold returns.
Fall brings its own colors as the plumbago produces its
cobalt blue flowers along the front walk. And I know what time of year it is by
the shade of the sedum. Early summer, its flowers are white. Gradually, the
color turns to a pale pink. And in the fall, they deepen to a dark red and then
rust. It’s amazing to watch this one flower change color over time.
So, that’s the year in flowers in my yard.
© 13 Jun 17 
About the Author 
Nicholas grew up in Cleveland,
then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from
work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga,
writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.

Prisoner C.3.3 – A True Queer Irishman by Pat Gourley

“The only way to get rid of temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.”

Oscar Wilde from The Picture of Dorian Gray – 1891

     March 17th is the day many celebrate all things Irish and it has often been said that everyone is Irish on that day. It certainly has evolved for many into an excuse to get royally pissed, often on green beer. Though the exact year of St. Patrick’s death is somewhat a matter of conjecture there seems to be some historical agreement that the actual day was March 17th sometime in the 5th century.

     Snakes and shamrocks are often closely associated with Patrick. He may have actually used the shamrock to teach the mystery of the Holy Trinity, i.e. three-in-one. The shamrock was certainly a pagan symbol and as with so much of Christianity was co-opted by the new religion probably to enhance recruitment.

     The snakes are a bit more of a shaky matter. Post-glacial Ireland never had any snakes but Patrick gets credit for driving them all out of Ireland. One account relates that he may actually have hallucinated being attacked by snakes after completing a 40-day fast and then defeated them. That sounds about right to me. After a good night sleep and some real food and water the snakes were all magically gone.

     One thing historians agree on was that a young Patrick, a Brit actually and not Irish himself, was captured by raiding Irish pagans and hauled off from Roman Britain to Ireland where he spent several years as a slave. Eventually he did return to Ireland as a missionary. I think we can give him at least some credit or blame for converting Ireland to Catholicism although even this is contested by some. He certainly has become the patron saint of Irish Catholics.

     As a young Irish Catholic lad my coming out as queer was in retrospect heavily influenced and directed by that peculiarly intense version of guilt inducing religiosity, Irish Roman Catholicism. St. Patrick then for me represents in some ways a stifling religion that has done more than its share of oppressing Queer people.

     Though certainly not unique to Ireland or the Irish the whole messy and very sad kettle of fish that is clergy sexual abuse has really come home to roost in recent years in Ireland. The far-reaching tentacles of this perversion are currently in the press in the form of Cardinal Keith O’Brien and his resignation for inappropriate sexual advances. Cardinal O’Brien is Irish and was born in Northern Ireland. He recently resigned as the religious head of the Catholic Church in Scotland because of “drunken fumblings” of a sexual nature towards several other much younger clergy and students.

     This was apparently not a case of serial pedophilia and perhaps could even have elicited some sympathy for a man only able to address his gay sexual nature when drunk. An unfortunate but not infrequent manifestation of internalized homophobia still today. However, this guy’s self-hatred manifested itself only just a year ago in a public diatribe condemning the “madness of same sex unions and the tyranny of tolerance.” Sorry, no sympathy here, only pity.

     So on this St. Patrick’s Day I prefer to celebrate a different Irishman. Not one of the O’Brien’s of the Church or an old and largely mythological saint of a religion that is rapidly imploding into irrelevance. Rather I prefer to honor the legacy of a much more honest and open queer Irish man, Oscar Wilde (1854-1900), dramatist, novelist and poet.

     I acknowledge that what got Oscar in so much trouble, ending in a severe two-year prison term at hard labor, was in part the result of “yielding to his temptations”. Oh yes and then taking very queenly umbrage at being implicated as a sodomite by the father of one his young lovers.

     He decided to sue this man for libel. Obviously Oscar was not openly embracing his inner queer here, but it was the 1890’s in Victorian England. At trial things didn’t go so well. Wilde eventually ended up being charged and convicted of “gross indecency” and the charge of libel against the father of his lover dropped. Sodomy in those days in England was a felony. In the English penal system Wilde was Prisoner C.3.3.

     I would like to end with a couple more delicious quotes from Prisoner C.3.3:

“ Consistency is the last refuge of the unimaginative.”

“We are all in the gutter but some of us are 
looking up at the stars.”
“Scandal is gossip made tedious by morality.”

     Happy St. Patrick’s Day everyone and don’t forget to lift a pint to Oscar! His life I think on balance was a positive way to yield to temptations in a manner that keeps one’s soul from growing sick.

For St. Patrick’s Day, March 17, 2013

Oscar Wilde’s grave in Paris, France
Photo by Pat Gourley

About the Author

I was born in La Porte Indiana in 1949, raised on a farm and schooled by Holy Cross nuns. The bulk of my adult life, some 40 plus years, was spent in Denver, Colorado as a nurse, gardener and gay/AIDS activist. I am currently on an extended sabbatical in San Francisco, California.