Pyramid Mountain is a mountain in Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada, named for its pyramid-like shape. James Hector named the mountain in 1859 due to its appearance from the Athabasca River valley on the eastern side of the peak. The colors of the mountain look bronze with shades of red, orange and deep gray.
Nature and Landscape Photography, Photographic Journal of Biblical and Poetic Expressions
Pikes Peak
Monday, February 20, 2017
"Graceful Counterfeit of Flowers"
Flowers In Winter: Painted upon a Porte Livre
HOW strange to greet, this frosty morn,
In graceful counterfeit of
flowers,
These children of the meadows, born
Of sunshine and of
showers!
How well the conscious wood retains
The pictures of its flower-sown
home,
The lights and shades, the purple stains,
And golden hues of bloom!
It was a happy thought to bring
To the dark season’s frost and
rime
This painted memory of spring,
This dream of summer-time.
Our hearts are lighter for its sake,
Our fancy’s age renews its
youth,
And dim-remembered fictions take
The guise of present
truth.
A wizard of the Merrimac,—
So old ancestral legends
say,—
Could call green leaf and blossom back
To frosted stem and spray.
The dry logs of the cottage wall,
Beneath his touch, put out
their leaves;
The clay-bound swallow, at his call,
Played round the icy
eaves.
The settler saw his oaken flail
Take bud, and bloom before his
eyes;
From frozen pools he saw the pale,
Sweet summer lilies rise.
To their old homes, by man profaned,
Came the sad dryads, exiled
long,
And through their leafy tongues complained
Of household use and
wrong.
The beechen platter sprouted wild,
The pipkin wore its old-time
green
The cradle o’er the sleeping child
Became a leafy screen.
Haply our gentle friend hath met,
While wandering in her sylvan
quest,
Haunting his native woodlands yet,
That Druid of the West;
And, while the dew on leaf and flower
Glistened in moonlight clear
and still,
Learned the dusk wizard’s spell of power,
And caught his trick of
skill.
But welcome, be it new or old,
The gift which makes the day
more bright,
And paints, upon the ground of cold
And darkness, warmth and
light!
Without is neither gold nor green;
Within, for birds, the
birch-logs sing;
Yet, summer-like, we sit between
The autumn and the spring.
The one, with bridal blush of rose,
And sweetest breath of woodland
balm,
And one whose matron lips unclose
In smiles of saintly calm.
Fill soft and deep, O winter snow!
The sweet azalea’s oaken
dells,
And hide the bank where roses blow,
And swing the azure bells!
O’erlay the amber violet’s leaves,
The purple aster’s brookside
home,
Guard all the flowers her pencil gives
A life beyond their bloom.
And she, when spring comes round again
By greening slope and singing
flood
Shall wander, seeking, not in vain,
Her darlings of the wood.
John Greenleaf Whittier (1807-1892)
"Nobody Cometh To Woo" - Pyramid Island
Nobody Cometh To Woo
On Martinmas eve the dogs did bark,
And I opened the window to see,
When every maiden went by with her spark
But neer a one came to me.
And O dear what will become of me?
And O dear what shall I do,
When nobody whispers to marry me--
Nobody cometh to woo?
None's born for such troubles as I be:
If the sun wakens first in the morn
'Lazy hussy' my parents both call me,
And I must abide by their scorn,
For nobody cometh to marry me,
Nobody cometh to woo,
So here in distress must I tarry me--
What can a poor maiden do?
If I sigh through the window when Jerry
The ploughman goes by, I grow bold;
And if I'm disposed to be merry,
My parents do nothing but scold;
And Jerry the clown, and no other,
Eer cometh to marry or woo;
They think me the moral of mother
And judge me a terrible shrew.
For mother she hateth all fellows,
And spinning's my father's desire,
While the old cat growls bass with the bellows
If eer I hitch up to the fire.
I make the whole house out of humour,
I wish nothing else but to please,
Would fortune but bring a new comer
To marry, and make me at ease!
When I've nothing my leisure to hinder
I scarce get as far as the eaves;
Her head's instant out of the window
Calling out like a press after thieves.
The young men all fall to remarking,
And laugh till they're weary to see't,
While the dogs at the noise begin barking,
And I slink in with shame from the street.
My mother's aye jealous of loving,
My father's aye jealous of play,
So what with them both there's no moving,
I'm in durance for life and a day.
O who shall I get for to marry me?
Who will have pity to woo?
Tis death any longer to tarry me,
And what shall a poor maiden do?
John Clare (1793-1864)
Tuesday, February 14, 2017
"All Nature Has A Feeling" - Akaroa
All Nature Has a Feeling
All nature has a feeling: woods, fields, brooks
Are life eternal: and in silence they
Speak happiness beyond the reach of books;
There's nothing mortal in them; their decay
Is the green life of change; to pass away
And come again in blooms revivified.
Its birth was heaven, eternal it its stay,
And with the sun and moon shall still abide
Beneath their day and night and heaven wide.
Are life eternal: and in silence they
Speak happiness beyond the reach of books;
There's nothing mortal in them; their decay
Is the green life of change; to pass away
And come again in blooms revivified.
Its birth was heaven, eternal it its stay,
And with the sun and moon shall still abide
Beneath their day and night and heaven wide.
John Clare (1793-1864)
Monday, February 13, 2017
"Solitude"
Solitude
Laugh, and the world laughs with you;
Weep, and you weep alone.
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth,
But has trouble enough of its own.
Sing, and the hills will answer;
Sigh, it is lost on the air.
The echoes bound to a joyful sound,
But shrink from voicing care.
Rejoice, and men will seek you;
Grieve, and they turn and go.
They want full measure of all your pleasure,
But they do not need your woe.
Be glad, and your friends are many;
Be sad, and you lose them all.
There are none to decline your nectared wine,
But alone you must drink life's gall.
Feast, and your halls are crowded;
Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live,
But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure
For a long and lordly train,
But one by one we must all file on
Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Subtle Beauty Glenorchy
A Golden Day
The subtle beauty of this day
Hangs o'er me like a fairy spell,
And care and grief have flown away,
And every breeze sings, "all is well."
I ask, "Holds earth or sin, or woe?"
My heart replies, "I do not know."
Nay! all we know, or feel, my heart,
Today is joy undimmed, complete;
In tears or pain we have no part;
The act of breathing is so sweet,
We care no higher joy to name.
What reck we now of wealth or fame?
The past--what matters it to me?
The pain it gave has passed away.
The future--that I cannot see!
I care for nothing save today--
This is a respite from all care,
And trouble flies--I know not where.
Go on, oh noisy, restless life!
Pass by, oh, feet that seek for heights!
I have no part in aught of strife;
I do not want your vain delights.
The day wraps round me like a spell
And every breeze sings, "All is well."
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Early Morning Light
Dawn
Day's sweetest moments are at dawn;
Refreshed by his long sleep, the Light
Kisses the languid lips of Night,
Ere she can rise and hasten on.
All glowing from his dreamless rest
He holds her closely to his breast,
Warm lip to lip and limb to limb,
Until she dies for love of him.
Ella Wheeler Wilcox (1850-1919)
Sunday, February 12, 2017
Paradise Ranch
If I had a ranch, Paradise is the place I would want to be. Surrounded by mountains with beauty all around. It is a wonderful scenic drive from Queenstown and a getaway from the tourist and traffic congestion. Paradise is a rural locality in the Otago region of the South Island of New Zealand. It lies on the eastern side of the Dart River at the head of Lake Wakatipu, close to the settlement of Glenorchy and 45 minute drive from Queenstown.
Sights and Sounds Across the Southern Alps
The TranzAlpine train travels from Christ Church on the East Coast across the Southern Alps to Greymouth on the West Coast. The train stopped mid way at Arthur's Pass and again for an hour at Greymouth for us to have lunch. I enjoyed not having to drive.
Thursday, February 9, 2017
"Trees Need Not Walk the Earth"
Trees Need Not Walk the Earth
By David Rosenthal (1920)
Trees need not walk the earth
For beauty or for bread;
Beauty will come to them
Where they stand.
Here among the children of the sap
Is no pride of ancestry:
A birch may wear no less the morning
Than an oak.
Here are no heirlooms
Save those of loveliness,
In which each tree
Is kingly in its heritage of grace.
Here is but beauty’s wisdom
In which all trees are wise.
Trees need not walk the earth
For beauty or for bread;
Beauty will come to them
In the rainbow—
The sunlight—
And the lilac-haunted rain;
And bread will come to them
As beauty came:
In the rainbow—
In the sunlight—
In the rain
For beauty or for bread;
Beauty will come to them
Where they stand.
Here among the children of the sap
Is no pride of ancestry:
A birch may wear no less the morning
Than an oak.
Here are no heirlooms
Save those of loveliness,
In which each tree
Is kingly in its heritage of grace.
Here is but beauty’s wisdom
In which all trees are wise.
Trees need not walk the earth
For beauty or for bread;
Beauty will come to them
In the rainbow—
The sunlight—
And the lilac-haunted rain;
And bread will come to them
As beauty came:
In the rainbow—
In the sunlight—
In the rain
Mount Fitzwilliam
It was a rainy, foggy day and storm clouds were forming over Mt. Fitzwilliam like a volcanic eruptions.
Clouds over Canterbury Plains
“So fine was the morning except for a streak of wind here and there that the sea and sky looked all one fabric, as if sails were stuck high up in the sky, or the clouds had dropped down into the sea.”
― Virginia Woolf, To the Lighthouse
Wednesday, February 8, 2017
Tuesday, February 7, 2017
That Evening Sun
It is a Beauteous Evening, Calm and Free
By William Wordsworth
It is a beauteous evening, calm and free,
The holy time is quiet as a Nun
Breathless with adoration; the broad sun
Is sinking down in its tranquility;
The gentleness of heaven broods o'er the Sea;
Listen! the mighty Being is awake,
And doth with his eternal motion make
A sound like thunder—everlastingly.
Dear child! dear Girl! that walkest with me here,
If thou appear untouched by solemn thought,
Thy nature is not therefore less divine:
Thou liest in Abraham's bosom all the year;
And worshipp'st at the Temple's inner shrine,
God being with thee when we know it not.
Monday, February 6, 2017
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