There's Beauty in the Bellow

Like countless educated women in the late nineteenth century, Vinnie (Lavinia Dickinson, sister to Emily) faced the problem of vocation, as finance capitalism and the Industrial Revolution did away with the domestic economy that had dominated colonial and early national life. With the middle-class home transformed into a center of consumption by the mid-nineteenth century, the home because the "women's sphere," but what was a woman to do in it? If, as Vinnie said late in life, "Austin had Amherst" and "father believed," what were the women to do? In assuming her role as a poet with "title divine," Emily found her vocation and made her home, at least for herself, a center of production in a unique, new form of domestic economy. Mrs. Dickinson took upon herself the work of love, ailment, and complaint. That left Vinnie with the job of looking after all of them. ("I had the family to keep track of.")

At Cattle Point. Feather duster worms. You poke them and they shrink back into their tubes. Bread crumb sponge (the green stuff) and pink encrusting algae. Aggragating anemone A little Isopod Barnacles. They were everywhere! Really quite handsome. More anemones, above tide. They've pulled in their tentacles to conserve moisture. Their bodies are very soft and gelatinous. My friend's feet. She finds shoes inconvenient. Well, she did grow up in West Africa where she did everything barefoot! I just couldn't stop taking pictures of the anemones! They were so lovely. They spread out everywhere in whatever wet crevice was availible during the nice low tide. (Nice for us at least.) And then I dropped my camera in a tiny shallow little pool. So I didn't get pictures of the rest of the trip. (The following were taken earlier on.) But I took the battery and memory card out, left it open for a couple days and the camera works just as well as ever--to my great relief! Flotsam a

I don't rebel at being a helpmeet, nor at being the glory or crown of the man. But I want my work to adorn his, not just inspire it (either as a muse or another reason to kill dragons), not just to nurture it (by cooking good food, creating a welcoming home, and building him up with praise). Can my work go beyond the domestic, beyond serving his appetites? Can the crown go with him, shedding glory in public places, beyond the energy and confidence bestowed by receiving respect at home or “sugar cake for you to take for all the boys to see”? I love stories of husbands and wives who are collaborators, where her research and knowledge strengthens, increases, sustains his project. In a sense I want to be a Deborah to a David—if it is possible for those two characters to create a peaceable union. Pagan religions at once deify sex and its offspring while also despising the woman herself, her organs and her blood. What dies the Church do? She is our Mother, she is Christ's Bride. She