dance #249, wild onion

Wednesday August 26, 2009

Wild onion

7:45 p.m. Waiting for the Ossington bus, just north of Bloor. Drawn by the scent of a honeysuckle bush growing in the scrubby garden on the corner. I discover a patch of wild onion blooms, beaming an even more powerful scent. Bright white explosions. Paper thin calyx binds early buds. Like fire-crackers they pop. Ping. Ping. Ping. So pointed. So forceful. Brightening this dreary patch of pavement. Scent so strong, synthesizing with the honeysuckle.  I don’t have much movement to express this, but the drawing feels explosive. Alice waits patiently on the chair as I draw at 11:45. It’s late. To bed with me.

~ by nmyers on August 30, 2009.