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the eternal seductiveness of life
The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life Jean GiraudouxFiled under: Uncategorized
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Vain Strivings Tied
I am a parcel of vain strivings tied By a chance bond together, Dangling this way and that, their links Were made so loose and wide, Methinks, For milder weather. A bunch of violets without their...
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Spring
Spring is a natural resurrection, an experience in immortality ~ Henry David ThoreauFiled under: Spring, Toronto Tagged: bokeh, flowers, spring, spring beauty, Thoreau
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The Enkindled Spring
This spring as it comes bursts up in bonfires green, Wild puffing of emerald trees, and flame-filled bushes, Thorn-blossom lifting in wreaths of smoke between Where the wood fumes up, and the...
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Bird
Those little nimble musicians of the air, that warble forth their curious ditties, with which nature hath furnished them to the shame of art. ~Izaak WaltonFiled under: Canada, Spring, Uncategorized...
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Ah Sunflower
Ah Sunflower, weary of time, Who countest the steps of the sun; Seeking after that sweet golden clime Where the traveller’s journey is done; Where the Youth pined away with desire, And the pale virgin...
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Bee on Day Waterlily (Skukuza, Kruger Park, South Africa)
When I add a spoon of honey to my tea, I give thanks to a dozen bees for the work of their whole lives. When my finger sweeps the final drop of sweetness from the jar, I know we’ve enjoyed the nectar...
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perfect idler, passionate observer
“For the perfect idler, for the passionate observer, it becomes an immense source of enjoyment to establish his dwelling in the throng, in the ebb and flow, the bustle, the fleeting and the infinite....
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World Photography Day ~ August 19
You don’t take a photograph, you make it. ~ Ansel Adams Filed under: Uncategorized
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most perfectly alive
For man, as for flower and beast and bird, the supreme triumph is to be most vividly, most perfectly alive. D.H. Lawrence (1885 – 1930)Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: alive, DH Lawrence, duck, nature
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Alone in the Rain
I am alone on my porch, in the rain. Nightfall is closing in. Now, the island is lonely. The world is muffled. The rain falls on the porch roof. Two mourning doves twitter as They go from tree to...
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Autumn, outside my window
The squirrel, bobbing from the eye, Is busy now about his hoard, And in old nest of crow or pye His winter-store is oft explor’d. John Clare (Autumn, 1821)Filed under: Fall, Seasons, Toronto,...
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The Tyger
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forests of the night, What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes? On what wings dare he...
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a slow, enduring force straining to win the sky
“The tree is more than first a seed, then a stem, then a living trunk, and then dead timber. The tree is a slow, enduring force straining to win the sky.” ~ Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Wisdom of...
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Work is love made visible
Work is love made visible – Khalil Gibran Filed under: Canada, Toronto, Uncategorized Tagged: brickworks, Khalil Gibran, labor, labour, wheelbarrow, Work is love made visible
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…the peace of wild things who do not tax their lives with forethought of grief
“When despair for the world grows in me and I wake in the night at the least sound in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be, I go and lie down where the wood drake rests in his beauty on...
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I Would I Were a Careless Child
Place me among the rocks I love, Which sound to Ocean’s wildest roar; I ask but this — again to rove Through scenes my youth hath known before. (Lord Byron) Filed under: Uncategorized Tagged: beach,...
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Storm Ending
Thunder blossoms gorgeously above our heads, Great, hollow, bell-like flowers, Rumbling in the wind, Stretching clappers to strike our ears . . . Full-lipped flowers Bitten by the sun Bleeding rain...
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“Hope” is the thing with feathers
“Hope” is the thing with feathers – That perches in the soul – And sings the tune without the words – And never stops — at all – And sweetest — in the Gale — is heard – And sore must be the storm –...
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woods have never seemed to me to be static things
“In some mysterious way woods have never seemed to me to be static things. In physical terms, I move through them; yet in metaphysical ones, they seem to move through me.” – John Fowles Filed under:...
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