Reverie ~ Vincenzo Irolli

May Days

cold wet days

 cozy days

reverie days

A Tiny Facelift

I am experimenting with new banners, ...the tiniest of facelifts, ...that still conveys what I hope this blog is about ... love of nature and my words.
I think I like it so far. We will see.

 One of my favorites from Arthur Rackham ~ Feeling Undancy - almost made the banner!

And now having made slight changes, I can't decide which one I like best ...

More changes ... Update:
The one I have up now is up for awhile.
I like how the words are like clouds or tree branches
Stretched across the banner.
Settled.

The Maypole

The Maypole, 1899, photographed by Clarence H. White

Ever After

 


The fair maid who the first of May,
Goes to the fields at break of day,
And washes in dew from the hawthorn tree,
Will ever after, handsome be

 ~ unknown

Whenever That May Be

Like the winter trees, 

Shed of their covering and 

Nocturnal in their rest, 

I nestle deep into my thoughts and 

Hibernate in deep woods. 

Stuck in my place,

I abide the confinement as,

I search for what expectation lies next, 

What comes in the spring, 

Whenever that may be.

Artist: Erica Yanina Lujan

I've no idea where these thoughts came from. 

I am still exploring their meaning, if any. 

They were written in the dead of winter. 

Just now coming to light again. 

 

Broken Glass Sunsets

Art by Bing Wright

BINGWRIGHT.COM

Morning Bird

It's been a long night tonight - so long in fact that I am just now hearing birdsong at 4 am. Not having gone to bed yet, it's quite unexpected and welcome. Not only for the beauty of it, but also because this girl isn't an early bird at all, at least not in the usual sense, so its not something I am used to!

Photo from Outerbridge Ebay Seller

This morning I am!

April As She Blooms

The Night (and an edit)

The night is darkening round me

By Emily Brontë 

 

The night is darkening round me,

The wild winds coldly blow;

But a tyrant spell has bound me,

And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending

Their bare boughs weighed with snow;

The storm is fast descending,

And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,

Wastes beyond wastes below;

But nothing drear can move me;

I will not, cannot go. 

Source: http://jar-of-elixir.tumblr.com/post/20907743122

Edited: Late last night around 2 am there was a storm that came through with voracious winds. As I watched it, I wanted to step out into it and face those winds and be caught up. This morning the leftover gusts still lingered and swept through the trees long branches like wind blowing through long hair. Again I was thrilled with the storm and could not bear myself away from watching it. 
Nothing can move me, I cannot go.

Spring Trend

I dance joyful in a new spring trend,

A nod to things made dawn again ~

Beyond The Veil

Gift of Reverie

Some artwork that I recently discovered. Reverie is a theme in art that I really like. Probably because I need so much of it myself that I relate to these pondering moments.

Recently, I heard someone talk about sleep as being a form of reverie. That it allows you to refresh and get back to yourself and how we often times don't get enough of it. I need more of this kind of reverie, so why is it so hard to follow through with. Really, any kind of reverie is beneficial at this point.

The Woods

THE MYSTIC WOOD

I am always pleasantly surprised at the woods that are nearby and the beauty they offer unexpectedly and freely, just for the taking. It's right there in front of you - all that is required is to listen or watch and you are rewarded with something new. There's a flow of constant beauty, a nature pattern of gift after blessed gift, and it's not just my woods, its yours as well.
This morning in the backyard, I heard a new sound coming from the woods as plain as day. A woodpecker feverishly pecking at his chosen tree. "Birds have nests, foxes have dens," and the woodpecker has his pocket in the tall tree. Another gift shared on a beautiful Sunday morning and it was mine. It's a tiny slice of Walden, but I'll take it.

Credit: Quoted line by Rich Mullins, "You Did Not Have A Home."

Wild Man

His trees are potted in the soil

Random flowers bloom His garden

A footstool ready made will do

To stop and rest at random

The mountain rock foundation

Will hold Him well and fine

A Wild Man in heart and deed

At home in Nature divine

Even Moses had to go up to the mountain to meet God.

We meet Him too, when we pot our plants and flowers for beauty,

When we seek the woods, the moon, the sky.

We are wild at heart too,

Recognizing the hand that made this earth beauty

Had a wilderness heart behind its creation.

 

Photo by BookishKind

Credit:
(Rich Mullins referred to God as a "Wild Man")