The Wheelbarrow

I’ve been asked about the wheelbarrow in which we put the weeds in a previous post. It came with the house, is painted red, and appears to be of recent vintage. The weeds are what give it that rustic look. I had forgotten to remark then that the wheelbarrow reminded me of piece written by one of Enrico’s favorite poets, William Carlos Williams:

The Red Wheelbarrow

so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

As we speak, our wheelbarrow is now empty of weeds and glazed with rain water from the tropical remains of Hurricane Hanna. No white chickens on the grass, alas. The nearest white chicken is a block and a half down from our house, and if outside is itself most likely glazed with rain.

But I doubt that anywhere near so much depends upon it.