Stephen Evans

Follow author Add as friend Message author Subscribe to updates from author Subscribe via RSS
Stephen is a playwright and author of The Marriage of True Minds and A Transcendental Journey.


I have written here before about the resilience of the rose bush behind my apartment ( But between the deer last year and the late freezes this year, I think the rose bush has finally met its match. As you can guess, I am sad about it.

There is an azalea bush next to the rose bush, and, if I recall rightly (always a question these days), it was planted for my mother by my brother Michael nearly fifteen years ago, not long after they moved in here. In all those years to my knowledge it never bloomed. I am no gardener, but I often wondered if it wasn't getting enough sun, or rain. But maybe it was just waiting for the right moment.

Both Mike and Mom are gone now, but I hope they are watching from heaven, because their azalea has bloomed for the first time, two beautiful pink blossoms. I guess you never know what is going to bloom. Or when.

Recent Comments
Rosy Cole
As Thomas Gray says in Elegy written in a Country Churchyard (one of my Dad's favourite poems) Full many a flower is born to blu... Read More
Wednesday, 08 June 2016 15:31
Stephen Evans
If obscurity is the measure then I feel quite distinctive ... Read More
Thursday, 09 June 2016 15:05
Ken Hartke
I can't grow azaleas -- they die in a matter of days. I can probably kill my neighbor's azaleas just by my presence nearby. Mayb... Read More
Wednesday, 08 June 2016 20:43
532 Hits

The Secret of Culture

The secret of culture is to learn, that a few great points steadily reappear, alike in the poverty of the obscurest farm, and in the miscellany of metropolitan life, and that these few are alone to be regarded, — the escape from all false ties; courage to be what we are; and love of what is simple and beautiful; independence, and cheerful relation, these are the essentials, — these, and the wish to serve, — to add somewhat to the well-being of men.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Recent comment in this post
Katherine Gregor
Hear, hear!
Friday, 27 May 2016 12:13
575 Hits
1 Comment

The Danger of Poetry


He repeated, with such tremulous feeling, the various lines which imaged a broken heart, or a mind destroyed by wretchedness, and looked so entirely as if he meant to be understood, that she ventured to hope he did not always read only poetry, and to say, that she thought it was the misfortune of poetry to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoyed it completely; and that the strong feelings which alone could estimate it truly were the very feelings which ought to taste it but sparingly.

Jane Austen


Recent comment in this post
Rosy Cole
I do think, though, that poetry is the purest form of communication, heart to heart with no intermediary, assuming it to be read i... Read More
Sunday, 15 May 2016 12:27
473 Hits
1 Comment

The Spider

I was looking out the sliding doors at my back porch today when I noticed a spider right in front of me. It reminded me of this piece, written a few years ago, maybe about the same spider:


A single strand of spider’s web was strung across my porch this morning. I would never have seen it if the sun hadn’t caught it just right. How in the world could one tiny spider have strung that slender thread, eight feet or more over open space?

Was he saying “See what I can do and you can’t?”

Or was he saying “See what can be done?”

The truth is, he wasn't saying anything, has no knowledge of me, was just living his life in the world. It’s not all about me. I keep forgetting that.

But see what can be done.

I keep forgetting that too.

Recent Comments
Rosy Cole
The question is: Would he have existed if you hadn't spotted him? Reminds me of Antoine de St Exupery and The Little Prince tendi... Read More
Monday, 09 May 2016 12:29
Stephen Evans
But if he was aware of me, wouldn't he have written "Some human"?.
Monday, 09 May 2016 16:13
Rosy Cole
I can't see why he would, Steve. But the point is, he doesn't need our language (which is a barrier and source of confusion even a... Read More
Monday, 09 May 2016 17:38
598 Hits

Latest Comments

Monika Schott A rickety bridge
18 November 2017
Thanks, Di.
Diane Rampertshammer A rickety bridge
17 November 2017
Pure poetry - very evocative - you are a painter with words..Di
Ken Hartke Lamenting the Lost Art of Conversation
12 November 2017
Thanks for the comments. Rosy -- I look at this sort of social conversation as a healthful thing for...
Rosy Cole First Song
12 November 2017
This is almost like a memory of birth, reviving those sensations, but translated in imagistic terms....
Rosy Cole Lamenting the Lost Art of Conversation
12 November 2017
Oh Ken, how rare that is! A gift. What a lovely sojourn in the byways and an unexpected exchange of ...

Latest Blogs

A slow sway pinches out a crying creak. It wavers and reverberates, motions in the belly as a slug of up and down. Yet there’s no whiff of breeze on...
Although I had admired a lovely large tree across our lake with yellow leaves for a couple of weeks, I kept wanting to see some reds and bright orange...
                To that which moves, to that which moves,          Which penetrates the universal shine         And shimmy, Roundabout, wh...
As luck would have it, I was going to spend last Saturday night in Las Cruces, New Mexico. I drove my daughter to the small town of Deming (about an h...
Aging brings frequent doctor checkups—teeth, eyes, hearing aids, heart, INRs for blood thickness, etc. etc. Then add the fact that doing the minimum o...