George William Russell: The Departed Poet Who Understood Gardeners’ Souls

July 17, 1935

On this day, dear readers, we bade adieu to a luminous soul.

The poet George William Russell, known more intimately to the literary world as AE, has departed this earthly garden. While the rest of society mourns with appropriate decorum, I find myself contemplating the delicious irony of a mystical poet who insisted one cannot simultaneously commune with spirits and indulge in fruit.

One must choose between the ethereal and the edible, it seems.

Our dear Mr. Russell was no ordinary versifier. He began his journey at the Metropolitan School of Art in Dublin, where fate arranged his fortuitous meeting with that other giant of Irish letters, William Butler Yeats.

How fascinating that two such towering literary figures should cross paths in such mundane circumstances! One can only imagine the conversations that bloomed between them—the seeds of poetry germinating in the fertile soil of their mutual admiration.

Russell eventually took up the editor's mantle at The Irish Homestead, where his influence on Irish cultural life grew as steadily as a well-tended perennial. Unlike many literary figures who remain cloistered in their ivory towers, Russell planted himself firmly in the practical world, nurturing both the artistic and agricultural aspirations of Ireland.

What a refreshing approach—a man of letters who understood that culture, like gardens, requires both sunlight and sustenance!

Among his more memorable utterances, two stand particularly tall like stately hollyhocks in a summer border:

"Our hearts were drunk with a beauty our eyes could never see."

"You cannot evoke great spirits and eat plums at the same time."

The latter quote deserves particular attention from us gardeners.

While Russell speaks of spiritual communion, I cannot help but think of those perfect moments in the garden when we are so absorbed in the beauty of a perfect rose or the delicate unfurling of a fern that we forget entirely about mundane matters like luncheon.

Is this not its own form of evocation?

Are we not communing with something greater than ourselves when we lose track of time among our beloved plants?

Perhaps Mr. Russell would argue that the gardener exists in a perpetual state of contradiction—hands in the earth while the mind contemplates the heavens.

We cultivate the plums yet recognize the spirit within them. We are both practical and mystical, rooted and transcendent.

As we tend to our gardens this week, let us remember AE, who understood that beauty exists beyond what our eyes can perceive.

There is something profound in the unseen roots beneath the soil, in the silent respiration of leaves, in the patient unfurling of petals.

Our gardens are not merely collections of plants but portals to a deeper understanding—if only we have the wisdom to look beyond the merely visible.

So today, I propose we raise a glass (perhaps of plum wine?) to George William Russell.

May his poetic spirit continue to inspire those who seek beauty in both the seen and unseen worlds.