From what I can tell, Black-Eyed Susans (Rudbeckia hirta) we’re dealt a disservice once upon a time when name tags were hastily inked without gazing deep enough, long enough to realize that their dark centers were browner than black. But, alas, the misnomer stuck. Yet when I observe these beauties during my bicycle rides or while wandering Rosslyn’s meadows and wildflower bed, I think of them as Brown-Eyed Susans like my bride of twenty years (and best friend of twenty four years!)
I’ve snapped Black-Eyed Susan shots again and again, often roadside but not always, not usually because the scenes are especially memorable. In fact, most are decidedly remarkable images. At least one photograph was taken long ago on a Blackberry. No, these are not photographs that will stand out on this website or anywhere else for that matter, but for me each is a Susan souvenir.
Black-Eyed Susans, Haiku
Sunburst petals cast
a brown-eyed spell upon me —
galaxy of stars.
Susan Cameos
Perhaps it’s slightly OCD to collect allusions to the woman with whom I’ve created a beautiful, adventurous life. After all, Susan’s rarely too far away from me. I need no reminders, no placeholders. And yet I pause again and again to observe the bloom that brings my bride to mind.
Slender stems, strong despite appearing too delicate to support such a showy corona. Wild among grasses, daisies, clover. Unpretentious but proud. Brilliant stars blazing in a meadow!
The rendering above is appealing in part for the slightly meta coincidence of painted Black-Eyed Susans presiding over a single stem in a vase. As always with Amy Guglielmo’s paintings, this playful portrait propped up in our kitchen, invests the world with levity. If laughter were a painting it would look like this!
And I’ll conclude this floral-meets-matrimonial meditation with the vision in my mind, multiplied by a million. A field full of Black-Eyed Susans, constellations of golden stars illuminating a meadow galaxy. This is what I imagine when reading the haiku above.
What do you think?