{"id":7084,"date":"2015-06-21T08:18:25","date_gmt":"2015-06-21T12:18:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/p4td.lightshedder.com\/?p=7084"},"modified":"2015-06-21T08:18:25","modified_gmt":"2015-06-21T12:18:25","slug":"rose-pogonias-happy-sunday","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/psnp.info\/p4td_\/?p=7084","title":{"rendered":"Rose Pogonias. Happy Sunday!"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"Rose<\/a>

Rose Pogonias. Off Brown Street, Kennebunk ME<\/p><\/div>\n

Yesterday afternoon it was such a beautiful\u00a0day, and we were back from my early Father’s Day lunch\u00a0at Unos in plenty of time: I had to get out of the house. Both cars were gone so it was walk or bicycle, and I decided to walk to the gravel pit down the road from us, where, in years past, a tiny emergent bog one level down into the pit has produced a crop of Rose Pogonias about this time of year. I have been checking for them regularly in the real remnant bog at Laudholm Farm, but my memory is that they bloom even earlier on that exposed wet shelf of the pit. Indeed they were in full bloom, and they have spread from last year as the moisture level in the boggy area changes year to year. There had to a 100 plants in one area the size of a decent living room or a spacious bedroom. I had two cameras with me, and I spent a half hour or so among the flowers, enjoying every moment. The panel above, assembled in Coolage, shows several aspects of these beautiful blooms.<\/p>\n

While looking up the spelling of the name, I came across the Robert Frost poem of the same name.<\/p>\n

A saturated meadow
\nSun-shaped and jewel-small,
\nA circle scarcely wider
\nThan the trees around were tall;
\nWhere winds were quite excluded,
\nAnd the air was stifling sweet
\nWith the breath of many flowers–
\nA temple of the heat.<\/p>\n

There we bowed us in the burning,
\nAs the sun’s right worship is,
\nTo pick where none could miss them
\nA thousand orchises;
\nFor though the grass was scattered,
\nYet ever second spear
\nSeemed tipped with wings of color
\nThat tinged the atmosphere.<\/p>\n

We raised a simple prayer
\nBefore we left the spot,
\nThat in the general mowing
\nThat place might be forgot;
\nOr if not all so favored,
\nObtain such grace of hours
\nThat none should mow the grass there
\nWhile so confused with flowers.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I have a great deal of respect and admiration for Robert Frost. I grew up on his poetry…a few miles, in fact from where he lived part of his life…and saw him read as poet laureate at John F. Kennedy’s inauguration…surely a high-point for poetry in America by anyone’s standards. It grieves me then to take issue with his poem. Sentiments have changed perhaps, but I could not imagine picking Rose Pogonias, or any other wild orchid…and the notion that no one would miss them…that is so “man” centered that I am surprised Frost could have written it even a few years ago. Of course, here in Southern Maine, I have never seen them growing in a wet meadow…only in mossy areas so saturated with water that no one would be tempted to mow them anyway. I do expect, some dry spring, to find that the bulldozers have scraped the boggy area clean, and drained the marsh that feeds it in the gravel pit…but the remnant bog at Laudholm is protected, as are the others in Southern Maine that I know of…so I am pretty certain the Rose Pogonia will continue long enough so my children’s children will be able\u00a0to find\u00a0the flower Frost wrote about in its wild state. Like Frost, I do offer a prayer for a “grace of hours” for the Rose Pogonia, for\u00a0all the wild orchids, and indeed all the wild things of this world, which, for certain, whether we know it or not, we would so sorely miss if they were gone. They might be\u00a0of no practical use<\/em> to anyone…but they enrich\u00a0our lives…feed our spirits…in ways we can appreciate even\u00a0if we do not understand.<\/p>\n

So when I find a spot, as Frost did in his sheltered meadow, or as I have done on the exposed wet lip of a gravel pit, where orchids still grow, I have that same instinct to worship and to share. I spend my half hour among them…in reverance and in joy…and bring you back a panel of images to share. Who knows, if Frost had had a digital camera with a good macro lens, the world might have lost some fine poetry…but it might be a world with a\u00a0few more Rose Pogonias still in it. In the spirit I might be tempted by that trade. \ud83d\ude42<\/p>\n

So, with apologies in advance to the Poet Laureate.<\/p>\n

I have never seen
\nthe Rose Pogonia grow
\nin any place a man
\nwould want to mow.<\/p>\n

Mossy bog or fen,
\nwhere both worship
\nand photography
\nare wet business
\nabout the knees and feet
\nas you bow<\/p>\n

to breath and frame,
\nto fill your SD card
\n(and your spirit)
\nwith the essence of what is still wild,
\nof no use, and of such great value
\nthe stars would weep
\nif you picked one.<\/p>\n

Therefore the picture,
\nand this poem,
\nthat your spirit might also know
\nthat still, the\u00a0Rose Pogonias grow
\nin a forgotten corner of a gravel pit
\njust down the road from home.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Happy Sunday!<\/p>\n

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