As he sunned himself afterwards on a rocky outcrop, a cloud of smoky-mauve butterflies appeared suddenly and covered his entire body. James took this as a sign and purchased the land. Over the next 20 years, he paid annual visits to Las Pozas, constantly adding new orchids: by 1965, he had 18,000 plants. But a freak three-day snowstorm killed the whole collection.
A poem written by Edward James, prior to his death in 1974 -
therefore will I be grateful to die in this little room,
surrounded by the forests, the great green gloom
of trees my only gloom - and the sound, the sound of green.
Here amid the warmth of the rain, what might have been
is resolved into the tenderness of a tall doom
who says: 'You did your best, rest - and after you the bloom
of what you loved and planted still will whisper what you mean.
And the ghosts of the birds I loved, will attend me each a friend;
like them shall I have flown beyond the realm of words.
You, through the trees, shall hear them, long after the end
calling me beyond the river. For the cries of birds
continue, as - defended by the coretege of their wings -
my soul among strange silences yet sings.
Groundhog Hair Print by Amber Alexander
Beginnings Print by David V Moore
Black Rose Cameo Brooch by Lush Punk
The Night Belongs to Them Print By Jaime Best of Best Art Studios
Eggplant With Chicken Legs Sculpture by Melissa Sue
[still squatting here in toowoomba and visiting the place for sale every couple of weeks...real estate is starting to pick up so hopefully it won't be long before i sell and can settle in here...with internet access! so a revisiting of a post from last year. i send loving kindness to you all, chrisy]