Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Thankfulness


The year has turned its circle,

The seasons come and go.

The harvest all is gathered in

And chilly north winds blow.

Orchards have shared their treasures,

The fields, their yellow grain,

So open wide the doorway,

Thanksgiving comes again.
~Author: Unknown

A time of many things
pressing and urgent
delightful and fulfilling
all keeping me from my computer
for a few days
may each of you
find rich blessings
during this season

Thursday, November 20, 2008

Cold Autumn

"O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being.
Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead
Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing."
- Percy Bysshe Shelley

No - this is not the moon
it is the sun
struggling to warm the day.
"So dull and dark are the November days.
The lazy mist high up the evening curled,
And now the morn quite hides in smoke and haze;
The place we occupy seems all the world."
- John Clare, November

Friday, November 14, 2008

O'Keeffe - Remembering her day of birth




Georgia O'Keefe, born November 15, 1887 Sun Prairie Wisconsin, sculptor/painter,

I found I could say things with color and shapes that I couldn't say any other way - things I had no words for.

“I said to myself, I have things in my head that are not like what anyone has taught me - shapes and ideas so near to me - so natural to my way of being and thinking that it hasn't occurred to me to put them down.” ~ Georgia O'Keefe


“I decided that if I could paint that flower in a huge scale, you could not ignore its beauty.”

“Nobody sees a flower really; it is so small. We haven't time, and to see takes time - like to have a friend takes time.”

When we were living in the southwest there were many days when I could see nothing other than the sameness of the hill, the brown sand or the flat, flat field stretching out to a distant water tank or feed lot. O’Keeffe opened my eyes to a new view of the world. City blinders fell off and I began to see the colors — the wonderful breathtaking color of the landscape that surrounded me.

Words in italics are all quotes of Georgia O'Keeffe
for more about Georgia O'Keeffe go to the following links

http://www.okeeffemuseum.org/home.aspx

http://www.ellensplace.net/okeeffe1.html

http://www.morning-earth.org/ARTISTNATURALISTS/AN_O%27Keeffe.html

http://www.pbs.org/wnet/americanmasters/episodes/georgia-okeeffe/about-the-painter/55/

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Wonder


"The world will not perish for want of wonders,
But for want of wonder."
---JBS Haldane

"The fairest we can experience is the mysterious.It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science.He who know it not and can no longer wonder, no longer feel amazement,is as good as dead, a snuffed out candle." ---Einstein

Saturday, November 08, 2008

Celebration


Each day there is a place I go
where I can find
rest
refreshing
inspiration

I pause for awhile
drinking in the spirit of the day
I walk the fields of Lanark
I am shown things I had not seen

Armchair traveler
I have been wafted
Into a world of enchantment
"Beyond the Fields We Know"

Thank you Cate
for every wonderful post

I lift my steaming cup of tea to you
Congratulations
Happy Third Blogging Anniversary
Join me in visiting Cate at Beyond the Fields We Know

Thursday, November 06, 2008

Leaves


"It's mornings like this;
The stingy sun trying to hold back
Even the warmth of its reflection
Flashing coldly In the lake.
When November leaves drop in sudden gusts,
Like a red and yellow flock of birds
Swooping at once to ground.
Or even nights:
When winds reach wet hands
To take you spinning with random paper
Down back street gutters, under straining bridges
To clogged rivers.
It's this:
The time of year, along with spring,
When poets must take care
Not to sing the same old songs
Stolen from tribal memory."
- Thomas R. Drinkard

Sunday, November 02, 2008

Mourning Doves


A flock of perhaps two dozen or more mourning doves (far more than are usually resident here) have taken over the hill behind the house. They are working through the leaves finding seeds and taking advantage of the mild weather to bathe in the birdbath just below the edge of the woods. One or two at a time they enter the bath. Settle themselves into the water - splash, flap their wings and splash some more - work water up into their feathers - turning splashing and turning again. They send up huge sprays of water in their energetic bathing. After a time they leave the pool some to dry on a low branch others find a spot on the rocks and spread out one wing at a time to dry in the warmth held deep inside the stone. Other birds find a bit of sunshine hitting a pine branch, spread out their white and black tail feathers to dry in that bit of sunlight. While those are drying and grooming, other birds come to the pool to repeat the exercise. The birds who are waiting their turn at the bath use a sunflower seed feeder, their little pink feet gripping tightly to any surface that makes a good perch for them while they grab a few bites of the seeds.

Saturday, November 01, 2008

If


If I had my life to live over I’d like to make more mistakes next time. I would limber up. I would be sillier than I have been this trip. I would take fewer things seriously. I would take more chances. I would climb more mountains and swim more rivers. I would eat more ice-cream and less beans. I would perhaps have more actual trouble, but I’d have fewer imaginary ones. You see. I’m one of those people who live sensibly and sanely hour after hour, day after day. Oh, I’ve had my moments, and if I had it to do over again, I’d have more of them. In fact, I’d try to have nothing else. Just moments, one after another, instead of living so many years ahead of each day. I’ve been one of those persons who never goes anywhere without a thermometer, a hot water bottle, a raincoat, and a parachute. If I had it to do over again, I would travel lighter than I have. If I had my life to live over, I would start barefoot earlier in the spring and stay that way later in the fall. I would go to more dances. I would ride more merry-go-rounds. I would pick more daisies.”

~Nadine Stair, age 83