The poetry of earth is never dead. On the Grasshopper and Cricket by John Keats After the vibrant colors in last night’s image, I woke up feeling rested and ready to tackle a black & white project. —The dark flower image was taken this morning. It’s a bloom from the geranium buds that I shared just days ago on Coming Soon. I tried very hard to keep it original, but the temptation to go dark was too strong. I caved. Honestly, I’m not a huge geranium fan (shame on me!). They’re nice, but the color photograph was boring. Once it gets bigger I’ll try again. The wind was blowing, so it was tough to get a clear close-up. Just one has bloomed, so I left one of the buds in the frame—at right—to show off it’s little hairs. You can really see the grains of pollen too. No wonder my allergies have gone haywire! Anyway, this was another shot at macro photography. The actual flower is not much larger than a quarter. —The light flower …
Dancing with the feet is one thing, But dancing with the heart is another. —Author Unknown—
Flowers are the music of the ground From earth’s lips spoken without sound; Flowers are as music, silent, deep Oxlyps, marigolds, music men keep In pots and vases, beds and jars Music as though they were bundles of stars! Excerpt from Flowers, by Edwin Curran
Plans that either come to naught… …or half a page of scribbled lines. Pink Floyd
Delicate verses Tender lyrics rip through souls Hearts mend in rhythm Haiku #9 Ronovan Writes Haiku Challenge: Rip / Mend The featured image comes to you from the patio in our backyard—a delicate hanging fuschia. I thought it was the perfect fit for my haiku. Peace & Love!
That man is richest whose pleasures are the cheapest. —Henry David Thoreau
Many people are alive but don’t touch the miracle of being alive. Thích Nhất Hạnh After last night’s post, I decided to commit to black and whites for a while. I mentioned that I wasn’t sure why I haven’t done more—since I love them so much—but after working on the image that I’ve featured here, it all came back to me; they aren’t easy to do, and they can be pretty tricky. Actually, I think that’s exactly what was needed right now; something to challenge me a little and push me to learn.
I realized this evening that I stay up much later than I used to. I wanted to work on this image tonight because I just love the trees. The next thing I knew it was after midnight again! If you ask me, I think all of the lines from the leafless branches seem to make their own art. I love how nature does that; flaunts its beauty without shame, even in the most vulnerable and unexpected places. I was never quite sure if the trees were even alive when I took the photograph, because as far as my eyes could see, it looked like sticks… upon sticks… upon sticks! Still, it looked beautiful to me. I think it has to do with growing up in the city. When all you really know of nature is what’s in your own backyard—or in the neighborhood park—glimpses of natural landscapes, untouched by man, create a sense of awe and wonder that’s truly unforgettable. I love that. Anyway, the later it got, the more I thought about how I’m becoming a night …
Listen! The wind is rising, and the air is wild with leaves, we have had our summer evenings, now for October eves. —Humbert Wolfe After mentioning the other day how much I love browns and rust, I wanted to do something in earthy tones; something to celebrate October. I’m also celebrating the fact that we finally had rain today after that hot, HOT summer. And we actually had lightning & thunder as well. It was beautiful! —Peace & Love to you all— Janet
Mere color, unspoiled by meaning, and unallied with definite form, can speak to the soul in a thousand different ways. Oscar Wilde Would you believe that today marks exactly two years for me here on the blog? Another week and I’ll also reach two years and seven months sober. Praise God for that! Time flies when you’re busy making plans, that’s for sure. Speaking of making plans, I had an epiphany recently. One of the students in my English class mentioned something about changing how society views a certain subject. I can’t remember what it was she was referring to, but that’s not really the point anyway—it’s what happened after. Grinning, our professor reminded the class that they were young, and that they had their whole lives ahead of them to change the world. At first, I felt a little sad. There I sat, surrounded by teens and young adults—the oldest probably 26 years old—and I was… well… somewhere in my fifties. Somehow his words just struck me. It’s not often that I get discouraged, but …