Victoria Sackville-West Comments (3)
Sylvia Frances Chan
02 Feb 06:14
Aside from that all, Ron Price, you cannot compare your male life with that of a female's.You have no list of duties really to be done as demanded by society. The society you live in, let you free wherever you wish to go.That is entirely different than whenever you must constantly.So many people love gardening, each his own style.
18 Mar 2014 12:23
Like the poem very much-it is not necessary to be gardener of the same garden to enjoy the beauty of a garden-to lie the life together.
11 Jan 2008 11:52
A prose-poem written in praise of Vita Sackville-West and in appreciation for her inspiration as a pioneer. ________________________ GARDENERS Just three months before my own pioneering life began in August 1962 on the homefront in the Canadian Baha’i community, Vita Sackville-West passed away. A pioneer herself, in quite a different sense of course than my own pioneering experience, she was born just months before the passing of Bahá’u’lláh, the Founder of the Baha’i Faith, in 1892. In many ways her pioneering life was a polar-opposite, certainly a strikingly different one, to my own adventure across two continents. Her first love affair was with a house, then a husband, then several lesbian relationships, one of which was with the famous writer Virginia Woolf and, finally, with a garden at Sissinghurst Castle in rural Kent. My love affairs were with baseball, then the Baha’i Faith and finally with an assortment of people and things: Judy Gower and Christine Sheldrick in two marriages, a long career in teaching and, finally, with learning and the cultural attainments of the mind. In this last category, especially writing and especially poetry, Vita Sackville-West and I shared an equal love and passion.-Ron Price, Pioneering Over Four Epochs,11 January 2008 with thanks to ABC TV: “National Trust: Garden Treasures, ” 10 Jan.2008,6: 00-7: 00 p.m. I never shared your love of gardening, Vita, nor your ardent Latin temperament. My garden was always one of words like yours tended tenderly and now famously famous. My temperament was Welsh— English, coloured by a bipolar disorder. We both ran against convention’s grain, possessed an exuberance, complexity of character, a strong marriage and wrote endless reams of poetry over many years. In the process we both produced a rich and varied body of work amidst life’s turmoil but, in the end, whatever we did and whatever we were-first and foremost we were poets—wouldn’t you say, Vita? I must say, though, Vita, you were in the major league of writers while I was but a minor player with a minor role, in a minor key. Time will tell, of course, eh Vita? What do you think Vita from your place now in the land of lights where gardens of endless splendour adorn your days, I trust, Vita, I trust. You changed the face of gardening1 while I spread the seeds of a new Order that would, in time, change the face of this earth, containing as these seeds did the fruits and blossoms of consecrated joy and enable their gardeners to labor serenely, confidently and unremittently, as you did in your garden, to produce a Place of exquisite and most delightful beauty for the millions. 1 Victoria Glendinning, Vita; the Life of V. Sackville-West, Weidenfeld & Nicholson,1983. Ron Price 11 January 2008 ____________________