Old Summer Twilights — Carte Blomst

Not too long ago I scribbled some things down about my childhood backyard, a quiet place where my mom and I would plant trees and spread wildflower seeds.

The world was banished. Honeysuckle spilled over the fence, a tangle of brown and green, covered in small tongues of white and gold. It licked at the heels of the grey cat that slept in it and left a fragrance in her fur. A corn plant glistened and squeaked, its hot silk glittering in the sun. In the wetter areas evening primroses blushed, bright homes for spittle bugs in the dusk, as well as wild onions, pungent and smooth, growing thick among the longer grasses. At the very edge the althaea stood, its throaty blooms dusted with white pollen like powdered geishas in pink silk robes. Silver fruit and music live in its soil, old summer twilights haunt its shady corners, in this, my enclosed garden.

Below is a picture I drew that was partially inspired by the backyard.

During my study of art history, I came across the term hortus conclusus - Latin for "enclosed garden." In Medieval and Renaissance times, images of detailed, walled gardens (see image below) were prolific; enclosed gardens existed in reality, as well. The term had a romanticizing influence on me and I began to think of my old backyard as my own hortus conclusus, now only a retreat in memory, but a vivid one nonetheless.