Saturday, December 31, 2011
Friday, December 30, 2011
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Sky, yellow, gold below,
The naked trees beyond the town,
Like masts against it show,
Bare masts and spars of our earth-ship,
With shining snow sails furled,
And through the sea of space we slip
That flows all around the world.
Edmund Clarence Stedman in 1900
Our earth-ship still rises to the same purple and golden skies as we move through a sea of space in a new century.
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
It was slippery going and the dogs and I left our foot prints behind to prove that we had been collecting a few lacy flakes on our eyelashes.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
The sun has finally reached its southernmost point in the sky, meaning it stopped for a day. Today it started moving north again and will move a little further north each day as it rises in the eastern sky. Eventually it will rise due east at the Vernal equinox and as far north of east as it can on the Summer Solstice.
The sunrise, won't begin happening earlier, however, until the 8th of January. Our sunsets have been coming later ever since around December 11th. Did you notice?
Thursday, December 22, 2011
And ruthlessly strangled off the fantasies,
Of leaves that have gone unnoticed, swept like old,
Romantic stories now no more to be told.
The trees down the boulevard stand naked in thought,
Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught
in the grim undertow, naked the trees confront,
Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
And now the day doesn't seem so dreary after all.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
The lichen is neither completely a fungus nor completely a plant---but a combination of the two with cells of both.
The moss lives upon the lichen and yet is not living off of the lichen like a parasite would.
Fascinating organisms---the two.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
from Kenneth Grahame's Wind in the Willows
Friday, December 16, 2011
Until then the sun will drag its feet as if it is too tired to face another winter morning.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
Until we meet a snake,
T'is then we sigh for houses,
And our departure take
At that enthralling gallop
That only childhood knows.
A snake is summer's treason,
And guile is where it goes.....
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
At dusk the other day I spotted a coyote drinking from the shore pictured here. It was a bit too dark to take a photo and I doubt if my canine companions would have sat still for that one anyway.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Today he had a friend with him, also a buck, but shyer even than he was.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Friday, December 9, 2011
Thursday, December 8, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
This picture from my archives this morning, was taken on a warm summer day. May it warm your heart.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Monday, December 5, 2011
This item, though, I couldn't clean up and carry out. And I fear this piece of snow fence that blew in from somewhere will provide a trap for some unsuspecting sea bird.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Francis Thompson (1859–1907)
Know you what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of to-day.
It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of baptism; it is to believe in love, to believe in loveliness, to believe in belief; it is to be so little that the elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child has its fairy godmother in its own soul; it is to live in a nutshell and to count yourself the king of infinite space; it is
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a Heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour;it is to know not as yet that you are under sentence of life, nor petition that it be commuted into death.
Friday, December 2, 2011
The Dunes are full of peace; making the Chicago view even better.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
The beauty of this Indiana stream flows through the seasons of the year. Even in December's peace the joyful splash of the water's flow feeds the soul.