Gosh, only one person disagreed with any portion of my assessment of the Brontės. Dorothy Rothschild took gentle exception to my notion that Emily drifted in and out of real life without conflict; she postulates that Emily never truly left the world of imagination to any useful degree instead of switching comfortably between real and imagined life, and I think she has a point. My focus was on the idea that Emily simply didn't feel the dreadful disparity between her imaginary world and the real one. That she didn't because she was almost wholly caught up in her internal fantasy seems probable, but I thought what was important was that she stood in opposition to Branwell's total inability to reconcile fantasy and reality.
I will mention in brief that I finally tracked down Woolworth's Nursery this weekend and came home with two large pots of wallflowers, a scabiosa (also called a pincushion flower) in a lovely shade of lavender blue, a pink fuchsia, a six-pack of pale peach phlox, and an enormous dicentra which I have been looking for without success for the last month. I cleared out and added soil to the back wall containers along Dixie's big kiddie pool of dirt which she loves, for some inexplicable reason, to lie in. I also nailed up six big trellises and transplanted some of the crowded corn lilies. Then I planted the fuschia in the shadiest corner and put the sweetpeas in the ground. They are already making new curly tendrils for climbing with.
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