Friday, October 31, 2014
Poem from a "Thousand Mornings" by Mary Oliver who is a Pulitzer Prize-winning poet whose body of work is largely filled with imagery of the natural world.
THE FIRST TIME PERCY CAME BACK
'The first time Percy came back
he was not sailing on a cloud.
He was loping along the sand as though
he had come a great way.
"Percy," I cried out, and reached to him—
those white curls—
but he was unreachable. As music
is present yet you can't touch it...
And now you'll be telling stories
of my coming back
and they won't be false, and they won't be true,
but they'll be real."
And then, as he used to, he said, "Let's go!"
And we walked down the beach together."
Excerpt from "A Thousand Poems" by Mary Oliver
This mornings walk at Crescent Beach, I had the pleasure of seeing the different stages of a cloudy sunrise. It was a magnificent view and the photos do not come close in capturing the beauty of the morning.
Thursday, October 30, 2014
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Surprisingly, Providence Canyon had more autumn foliage then the Pine Mountain valley further north. On the canyon floor were brilliant red, yellow and orange trees among the southern pines. The pine branches reflected a golden glow from the morning sun.
Monday, October 27, 2014
Cheaha Mountain is the highest mountain in Alabama so I decided to drive my mother through the back roads for her to see the country side. Cheaha Moutain is part of the Talladega Mountain Range, a final southern segment of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It is located close to the town of Delta which we could not tell if it was just a barn and a small church that made up the town.
It is not often I get pictures of clouds at Pine Mountain Valley. It is usually no clouds, hot and too bright and the landscape colors look faded. Finally, glorious clouds floated in front of my camera. The foliage is not fully turned into the autumn magnificent colors but I am happy for the clouds!
When the white beach reflects the light from the morning sun, the wet sand illuminates a mirror. Shadows of the clouds, birds, sand piles, sea weed have a looking glass effect. The visual effect is surreal like a favorite children's book by Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland: Through the Looking Glass.
'As to poetry, you know,' said Humpty Dumpty, stretching out one of his great hands, 'I can repeat poetry as well as other folk, if it comes to that—'
'In winter, when the fields are white, I sing this song for your delight—
'In spring, when woods are getting green, I'll try and tell you what I mean.'
'In summer, when the days are long, Perhaps you'll understand the song: In autumn, when the leaves are brown, Take pen and ink, and write it down.'
'I sent a message to the fish: I told them "This is what I wish." The little fishes of the sea, They sent an answer back to me. The little fishes' answer was "We cannot do it, Sir, because—"'
'I sent to them again to say "It will be better to obey." The fishes answered with a grin, "Why, what a temper you are in!" I told them once, I told them twice: They would not listen to advice. I took a kettle large and new, Fit for the deed I had to do. My heart went hop, my heart went thump; I filled the kettle at the pump. Then some one came to me and said, "The little fishes are in bed." I said to him, I said it plain, "Then you must wake them up again." I said it very loud and clear; I went and shouted in his ear.'
'But he was very stiff and proud; He said "You needn't shout so loud!" And he was very proud and stiff; He said "I'd go and wake them, if—" I took a corkscrew from the shelf: I went to wake them up myself. And when I found the door was locked, I pulled and pushed and kicked and knocked. And when I found the door was shut, I tried to turn the handle, but—'
There was a long pause.
'Is that all?' Alice timidly asked.
'That's all,' said Humpty Dumpty. 'Good-bye.'
Excerpts from Chapter 6, "Through the Looking Glass"
by Lewis Carroll
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
The Cloudby Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822
I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,
From the seas and the streams;
I bear light shade for the leaves when laid
In their noonday dreams.
From my wings are shaken the dews that waken
The sweet buds every one,
When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,
As she dances about the sun.
I wield the flail of the lashing hail,
And whiten the green plains under,
And then again I dissolve it in rain,
And laugh as I pass in thunder.
I sift the snow on the mountains below,
And their great pines groan aghast;
And all the night 'tis my pillow white,
While I sleep in the arms of the blast.
Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,
Lightning my pilot sits;
In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,
It struggles and howls at fits;
Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,
This pilot is guiding me,
Lured by the love of the genii that move
In the depths of the purple sea;
Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,
Over the lakes and the plains,
Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,
The Spirit he loves remains;
And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,
Whilst he is dissolving in rains.
The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,
And his burning plumes outspread,
Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,
When the morning star shines dead;
As on the jag of a mountain crag,
Which an earthquake rocks and swings,
An eagle alit one moment may sit
In the light of its golden wings.
And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,
Its ardours of rest and of love,
And the crimson pall of eve may fall
From the depth of Heaven above,
With wings folded I rest, on mine aëry nest,
As still as a brooding dove.
That orbèd maiden with white fire laden,
Whom mortals call the Moon,
Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,
By the midnight breezes strewn;
And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,
Which only the angels hear,
May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,
The stars peep behind her and peer;
And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,
Like a swarm of golden bees,
When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,
Till calm the rivers, lakes, and seas,
Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,
Are each paved with the moon and these.
I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,
And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;
The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,
When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.
From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,
Over a torrent sea,
Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,
The mountains its columns be.
The triumphal arch through which I march
With hurricane, fire, and snow,
When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,
Is the million-coloured bow;
The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,
While the moist Earth was laughing below.
I am the daughter of Earth and Water,
And the nursling of the Sky;
I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;
I change, but I cannot die.
For after the rain when with never a stain
The pavilion of Heaven is bare,
And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams
Build up the blue dome of air,
I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,
And out of the caverns of rain,
Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,
I arise and unbuild it again.
Tuesday, October 21, 2014
As long as my mother is able to grow flowers in her yard, I will celebrate their beauty on this blog. She is 86 years old and has shown incredible strength through many sorrows this year. The beauty of these flowers can't compare to the beauty of her inner spirit.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
There was a hurricane in the Atlantic that hit Bermuda over the weekend. The beaches were swarming with sea birds. The population of birds was more then normal. Dolphins were swimming in Matazanas River at Washington Oaks. I sit and watch them for a few minutes.