Wednesday, June 21, 2006

The Kiss

In the local public gardens a pair of swans drifts about on the ponds below the linden allee. On one overcast day the softly rippling water reflected the birds in detail that was lovely and then breath-taking. I noticed that the quivering mirror-imaged reflection formed a heart with the dipping head and neck of the gliding swan . My photograph captured the effect and inspired the poem that is my favorite of last year's flock. It's titled The Kiss. Below is the third of four stanzas.

Before the breeze teased the clouds apart
the swan dipped its head and formed a heart
with a graceful ghost who echoed the bliss
of a day transformed by this watery kiss.

. . . . .

Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Autumn Thoughts and Keats

The linden trees will bloom as they always do - after I've left for Cape Cod. Walking the allee at the TBC year round and watching them go bare after the gold of autumn it seems to take forever for the flower buds to appear. It is one of the most beautiful gifts of nature - this sweetness. The urn sits along the path and today in early light I noticed the bas relief harvester and was reminded of "To Autumn" by John Keats.

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfullness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves runs;
To bend with apples the moss'd-cottage trees;
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core . . .

. . . .

Monday, June 12, 2006

A Little Sappy

The sap drops on these pine cones invited macro-mode photograhy. Imagine my delight on discovering my reflection on closer examination of the picture. I'm wearing a sun hat that is visible as the dark arc in the lower drop. My arm is visible steadying the pine bough and the camera strap is also apparent.

Sunday, June 11, 2006

"Blow On The Coal of The Heart . . . . "

After a day of family sharing, sleep produced one of those dreams that one cannot shake - and perhaps shouldn't. My husband and I in a car - crossing a bridge - the full moon ahead of us in the night sky blinks out. I can still see the dark disc. Filled with stoic foreboding, I turn towards my husband and explain that something's happened as in: "Houston, we have a problem." I'm aware that our sun has vanished and that we have only 8 minutes before the loss of its gravitational effect hurls us into . . . . (Today in wakefulness, it's apparent I had the physics all wrong, but for enlightenment's sake, let's not quibble) I reach toward him in our remaining moments to try to convey my love and gratitude for the shared pilgrimage, whatever lies ahead. . . . "O my soul."

Saturday, June 10, 2006

For Katie - Light and Love

Today my great-niece, Katie, was baptized. Prior to the ceremony the priest told the assembled family that babies are always fascinated when the candle symbolizing Christ as light of the world is lit and held before them. There were many smiles as she instinctively reached for the light.

Monday, June 05, 2006

Hubble Deep Field in a Spider Web

"To see a world in a grain of sand,
And Heaven in a wild flower,
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand
And Eternity in an hour."

William Blake

OK. It's a bit of a stretch, but can you, too, see why I smiled down at the mini-universe of this busy spider? This web caught my eye on a morning walk through a nearby woods. The Hubble Space Telescope recorded these distant galaxies, the furthest, 12 billion light years away. The imponderable fact is that this represents a miniscule area of the universe. Hold a dime 75 feet from your face and that is the area of the sky represented in this breath-taking image.

Saturday, June 03, 2006

Ohio Roadside

At the end of the lane in Loudonville, Ohio, lies a hill composed of glacial till. Dame's Rocket blooms in the late May sunlight. A sycamore-lined stream cuts down through it and runs past the home of the man who raised cows here for more than a half century. He is now in a nursing home, his mind robbed by Alzheimers. His grandson now looks after the baby calves and their mothers. Life goes on.


This Turkey Vulture waited with his comrades for the spring day to warm the earth and create a thermal to help them aloft. I photographed him waiting beside the loveliest road where we bounced along in the open jeep, smelling the freshly cut hay and admiring all the floriferous abundance of the country roads. (Click on Turkey Vulture and scroll down to 'Behavior' and read about the activity of urinating on their own legs and vomiting - sorry, but this is very interesting stuff!)