Southern Memories Pine Valley

These photos were taken in August across from Callaway Country Store when the weather was warm and sunny and flowering trees were still blooming.  Memories of summer to keep me warm in a chilly November day.

Morning Glory Rain

"The morning glory at my window satisfies me more than the metaphysics of books."  Whitman, Walt
These morning glory flowers were growing outside my window so I took these pictures after a morning rain.

After a Morning Rain

After a morning rain.
the morning glory bows,
Rain droplets falling,
The dawn is breaking,
Sounds of leaves rustling
As the misty wind blows,
Clouds bathe in light,
The silent sun comes,
As treetops glistens,
A new day has begun. 

by PL Fallin

Daisy by Francis Thompson

Featuring Poet Francis Thompson (1859-1907) 



Francis Thompson was educated at Owen's College, Manchester. Later he tried all manner of strange ways of earning a living. He was, at various times, assistant in a boot-shop, medical student, collector for a book seller and homeless vagabond; there was a period in his life when he sold matches on the streets of London. He was discovered in terrible poverty (having given up everything except poetry and opium) by the editor of a magazine to which he had sent some verses the year before. Almost immediately thereafter he became famous. His exalted mysticism is seen at its purest in "A Fallen Yew" and "The Hound of Heaven." Coventry Patmore, the distinguished poet of an earlier period, says of the latter poem, which is unfortunately too long to quote, "It is one of the very few great odes of which our language can boast."   Thompson died, after a fragile and spasmodic life, in St. John's Wood in November, 1907. Among Thompson's devotees was the young J.R.R. Tolkien, who purchased a volume of Thompson's works in 1913-1914, and later said that it was an important influence on his own writing.
 

Daisy

 WHERE the thistle lifts a purple crown   
    Six foot out of the turf,             
And the harebell shakes on the windy hill—        
    O breath of the distant surf!—              
              
The hills look over on the South,                      
    And southward dreams the sea;           
And with the sea-breeze hand in hand 
    Came innocence and she.        
               
Where 'mid the gorse the raspberry      
    Red for the gatherer springs;   
Two children did we stray and talk          
    Wise, idle, childish things.        
               
She listened with big-lipped surprise,    
    Breast-deep 'mid flower and spine:     
Her skin was like a grape whose veins     
    Run snow instead of wine.      
               
She knew not those sweet words she spake,     
    Nor knew her own sweet way;              
But there's never a bird, so sweet a song              
    Thronged in whose throat all day.         
               
Oh, there were flowers in Storrington   
    On the turf and on the spray; 
But the sweetest flower on Sussex hills
    Was the Daisy-flower that day!             
               
Her beauty smoothed earth's furrowed face.      
    She gave me tokens three:— 
A look, a word of her winsome mouth, 
    And a wild raspberry. 
               
A berry red, a guileless look,      
    A still word,—strings of sand!  
And yet they made my wild, wild heart 
    Fly down to her little hand.      
               
For standing artless as the air,   
    And candid as the skies,            
She took the berries with her hand,         
    And the love with her sweet eyes.      
               
The fairest things have fleetest end,      
    Their scent survives their close:             
But the rose's scent is bitterness             
    To him that loved the rose.     
               
She looked a little wistfully,        
    Then went her sunshine way—             
The sea's eye had a mist on it,   
    And the leaves fell from the day.          
               
She went her unremembering way,       
    She went and left in me            
The pang of all he partings gone,             
    And partings yet to be.              
               
She left me marvelling why my soul       
    Was sad that she was glad;       
At all the sadness in the sweet, 
    The sweetness in the sad.       
               
Still, still I seemed to see her, still            
    Look up with soft replies,         
And take the berries with her hand,         
    And the love with her lovely eyes.       

Nothing begins, and nothing ends,         
    That is not paid with moan,     
For we are born in other's pain, 
    And perish in our own.             

Spring at Providence Canyon

The canyon is coming alive with dogwood blossoms and wild flowers.  Many of the hardwood trees are sprouting new growth.  There are flowers from old wisteria vines that have grown entwined with the undergrowth and trees.  It was cool and perfect weather for hiking and the new growth give enough visibility to see up the slopes of the canyon.

Winter-Spring Valentine's Day Raindrops

Winter flowers are blooming and so are Spring Flowers.  The seasons are merged but it makes a interesting and beautiful display of flowers.  Today is Valentine's Day and it is raining on my flowers.  Christmas Poinsettias and Camellias are in full bloom with Azaleas. It is a winter-spring mixed Valentine's Day of raindrops hanging from the flowers.

A John Thornton Gallery of Yellow Flowers

I am preoccupied with yellow flowers and the scene from the BBC Masterpiece Theatre of John Thornton walking along the Hedges looking for the yellow flowers that Margaret loves.  "As happy as we were we can't go back..." but he showed her a person can go forward by placing the flower carefully inside his shirt pocket, close to his heart,.and he pulls out the Helston yellow daffodil to show her his love, thoughtfulness, and tenderness.  The color yellow evokes feelings of joy and lightheartedness and it is also a symbol of friendship, yellow blooms sends a message of new beginnings and happiness. 

Here a a gallery of yellow flower images from the deep South to the North (Florida, Georgia, Michigan and Wisconsin).

"I Found it in the Hedge Row"

Yellow lily blooming in Columbus, Georgia.  A far cry from Helston, England where the yellow flowers were blooming in the BBC Masterpiece Theatre 'North and South.'   "You have to look hard" to find the flowers.  Of course, this is not a rose but a lily which is just as beautiful and the yellow color symbolizes good things that have happen to me during my life.  Yellow flowers are my favorite color regardless if they are roses, lilies or daisies.

Fall Blooms at Cumberland River

It is surprising that there are wild flowers still blooming this late in the fall.  Still feels like summer.

Caney Fork-Flowers Along the River Bank



The photos were taken along the banks of the Caney Fork River where it merges with the Cumberland River in Smith, Tennessee.

Summer Days are Gone as the Faded Flower

 Where have all the flowers gone?  Summer flowers in the woods at Mio, Michigan are now withered.  Summer days are now gone as the faded flower "and all its budded charm."  Reminds me of English Romantic poet John Keats who compared departure at the end of day from his love as a faded flower.

"The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!"

The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
 Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semi-tone,
Bright eyes, accomplish’d shape, and lang’rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise –
Vanish’d unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday – or holinight
Of fragrant-curtain’d love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight,
But, as I’ve read love’s missal through to-day,
He’ll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray. 

By John Keats 1795–1821