Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
You Had to Be There
They are May-December,
True loves on the spectrum.
A month called October,
Thirty days named June.
'Divinely beautiful' Anne would say.
Words may not exactly describe,
How they have become so dear.
You had to be there I guess.
Photo Credit - Partners For A Better World
Sunday, October 21, 2012
These Are My Sidewalks
"These are my sidewalks, they wound around the neighborhood, always led me straight and safely home," --Christine Dente, Becoming
For whatever reason, I am still considering on, I have randomly assigned names or characterizations to my neighborhood paths, walks, houses, nooks and crannies, as I walk.
There is the secret garden, that I've mentioned before, and a quiet row of houses a few streets away, where one house in particular makes me think of Poe. I can see him there in my daytime walks, walking the sidewalks at mid-night.
Near Poe's neighborhood are the moors, which is a plowed field that the neighbor's cattle roam in. At twilight the field is very moor-like, deserted and windy, if I plan it right.
A little to the south of the moors lie the woods or Walden, a long path of very tall trees near a river, where you can walk to your heart's desire. Above the tall trees, hawks ride the wind on stormy evenings, in no man's land, or you might call it fairyland. Winged creatures gather there often as the trees blow softly.
There is the Netherfield neighborhood where the finest homes in the area sit, though I've yet to find a Longbourn. In the same neighborhood is the Bronte Parsonage with it's own 'graveyard' on the left, (a lot converted into a Victorian garden with benches, stones, and statues that make it graveyard-like, just like the real Parsonage has.
Finally, there is a secluded row of homes on two parallel roads where I imagine Eponine might walk late at night to escape her dreary world. These are my sidewalks and I adore them.
For whatever reason, I am still considering on, I have randomly assigned names or characterizations to my neighborhood paths, walks, houses, nooks and crannies, as I walk.
 |
| Pathway to Bronte Moors (BronteFamilyorg) |
There is the secret garden, that I've mentioned before, and a quiet row of houses a few streets away, where one house in particular makes me think of Poe. I can see him there in my daytime walks, walking the sidewalks at mid-night.
Near Poe's neighborhood are the moors, which is a plowed field that the neighbor's cattle roam in. At twilight the field is very moor-like, deserted and windy, if I plan it right.
A little to the south of the moors lie the woods or Walden, a long path of very tall trees near a river, where you can walk to your heart's desire. Above the tall trees, hawks ride the wind on stormy evenings, in no man's land, or you might call it fairyland. Winged creatures gather there often as the trees blow softly.
There is the Netherfield neighborhood where the finest homes in the area sit, though I've yet to find a Longbourn. In the same neighborhood is the Bronte Parsonage with it's own 'graveyard' on the left, (a lot converted into a Victorian garden with benches, stones, and statues that make it graveyard-like, just like the real Parsonage has.
Finally, there is a secluded row of homes on two parallel roads where I imagine Eponine might walk late at night to escape her dreary world. These are my sidewalks and I adore them.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Bales of Hay
Harvest time is here. I've always loved bales of hay bundled up like these ones are. Ample spools ready to be dried and stored for winter feeding.
Where I come from, bales are bundled quite differently... in long rectangular cubes. Still lovely, but not quaint and pretty like these.
These are farmhouse and picturesque, almost french-like and definitely spool-like. Like a giant dropped her sewing basket, and it spilled all over and must be picked up.
Where I come from, bales are bundled quite differently... in long rectangular cubes. Still lovely, but not quaint and pretty like these.
These are farmhouse and picturesque, almost french-like and definitely spool-like. Like a giant dropped her sewing basket, and it spilled all over and must be picked up.
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| Photo By Slawek Staszczuk |
Into the Woods
Into the woods...
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| Picture by Leisa Collins |
A picnic or stroll in the woods is delightful.
A wedding in the woods, dreamy and romantic.
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| Photo by Amber Tamblin |
Anne's 'delicious' woods, perhaps best of all.
I'd take any or all on any given day.
Just add wind.
Just add wind.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Head in the Clouds
I've got my head in the clouds.
Just two steps and I'm there
Draped and drenched in purple elegance
Moors in the sky made for me.
~Robert Seymour Bridges
Just two steps and I'm there
Draped and drenched in purple elegance
Moors in the sky made for me.
Photo Source - You'll want to read this - have you ever seen clouds like this?!
Were I a cloud I'd gather
My skirts up in the air,
And fly well know whither,
And rest I well know where.
My skirts up in the air,
And fly well know whither,
And rest I well know where.
~Robert Seymour Bridges
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