The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age


    So, we have these tulips that were given to us over 20 years ago. And they are in full blossom today.

    I don't know how to connect that observation with anything else but that is my Easter celebration this time around.


    She paced the garden.
    Noticing what grew or not.
    Heels strike the flagstones.

    I don't know how your neighborhood happened to get tulips. As the whole meme was mass planting of daffodills (of which we already had a lot in NYC).

    Anyhew, daffodills come in three varieties, early spring (which have already bloomed for several weeks, including mine in my back yard) middle spring (coming in now including in my teeny front yard) and late spring--coming in through mid May.

    Only a very few tulips coming in right now round here, would be ahead of their natural time because they happen to be in an extra warm spot.

    AND if it's daffodils and not tulips, a nice feature is that you get to do Wordsworth's daffodils

    Which I looked up and re-read the other day and which is quite apropos to our situation!

    I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud

    I  wandered lonely as a cloud

    That floats on high o'er vales and hills,

    When all at once I saw a crowd,

    A host, of golden daffodils;

    Beside the lake, beneath the trees,

    Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.


    Continuous as the stars that shine

    And twinkle on the milky way,

    They stretched in never-ending line

    Along the margin of a bay:

    Ten thousand saw I at a glance,

    Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.


    The waves beside them danced; but they

    Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:

    A poet could not but be gay,

    In such a jocund company:

    I gazed—and gazed—but little thought

    What wealth the show to me had brought:


    For oft, when on my couch I lie

    In vacant or in pensive mood,

    They flash upon that inward eye

    Which is the bliss of solitude;

    And then my heart with pleasure fills,

    And dances with the daffodils.

    And with daffodils you also have the ultimate "hope springs eternal" movie scene from David Lean/Dr. Zhivago, which was probably influenced by the Wordsworth poem and for which I am a total sucker, makes me cry every time:


    I see you have blossoms on the street trees. We don't yet in the Bronx. So maybe you really do have tulips. In any case, I also see you have a better chance to have classical music entertainment than I do in the Bronx:

    Clip of my neighbor’s quarantine concert in Brooklyn.

    (Recording by journo-neighbor @PaulHamilos)

    — Eric Umansky (@ericuman) April 13, 2020

    (I do have the pots and pans cacaphony at 7 pm the last week or so, though, and tonight we also got some illegal fireworks...)

    Our tulips were given to us when we bought our house (or started buying our house).
    That is a nice concert from your neighbor. I mostly get Billy Joel which sets my teeth on edge.
    We have the pots and pans going here. I am hoping the bag pipe player down the block will represent soon.

    I dreamt of tulips

    Just the other night, I did

    They were all yellow.


    Some were in full bloom

    While others were still peeking

    Gobbling the sunlight.


    Such a vibrant field

    Such an expression of joy

    Such a chance for hope.





    Latest Comments