The Swaling Sunset

I look at the swaling sunset

And wish I could go also

Through the red doors beyond the black-purple bar.

I wish that I could go

Through the red doors where I could put off

My shame like shoes in the porch,

My pain like garments,

And leave my flesh discarded lying

Like luggage of some departed traveller

Gone one knows not where.

Then I would turn round,

And seeing my cast-off body lying like lumber,

I would laugh with joy.

In Shame and Trouble

D.H. Lawrence

The Bells of a Summer Sunset

The tiny flowers of Solomon's Seal glow in the summer sunset. You'll need to look from ground level to see this view. The flowers hang under elongated leaves. The plant grows in the forest's shade from a rhizome that is said to be good to eat. According to my Audubon field guide, when the stalk of the plant is broken from the rhizome the scar that is left behind looks much like King Solomon's seal, thus the name. Don't figure....

Rose Bed for the Night

Two insects snuggle in for the night on a a wild rose. I imagine that in the morning they'll pay for the room by pollinating the rose with another. Flowers make great cover for all sorts of insects.

Mud Puddles

How many tadpoles can you see in this picture? Hundreds of tiny tads have been born thanks to this year's rains. These are growing up in a group of mud puddles on a service road at the Indiana Dunes. This picture was taken on June 9th.

By June 11th, the tiny tads had sprouted legs and lost tails. There's another round of tads of all sizes at various stages of development growing in the puddles. We've had heavy rains here, so this year the puddles won't be drying up any time soon, giving the tiny tads a bit longer to mature.

 

Moon over the Bog

Saturday evening was truly magical with the moon hanging big in the sky. With the smell of the earth cooling from the heat of the day and the sounds of the birds, full and happy, settling down for the night; a midsummer's evening is life at its very best.

On the Longest Day of the Year---Summer ebbs...

Let us quit the leafy arbour,

And the torrent murmuring by;

For the sun is in his harbour,

Weary of the open sky.

Evening now unbinds the fetters

Fashioned by the glowing light;

All that breathe are thankful debtors

To the harbinger of night.

Yet by some grave thoughts attended

Eve renews her calm career:

For the day that now is ended,

Is the longest of the year.

Dora! sport, as now thou sportest,

On this platform, light and free;

Take thy bliss, while longest, shortest,

Are indifferent to thee!

Who would check the happy feeling

That inspires the linnet's song?

Who would stop the swallow, wheeling

On her pinions swift and strong?

Yet at this impressive season,

Words which tenderness can speak

From the truths of homely reason,

Might exalt the loveliest cheek;

And, while shades to shades succeeding

Steal the landscape from the sight,

I would urge this moral pleading,

Last forerunner of "Good night!"

SUMMER ebbs;--each day that follows

Is a reflux from on high,

Tending to the darksome hollows

Where the frosts of winter lie.

He who governs the creation,

In his providence, assigned

Such a gradual declination

To the life of human kind.

Yet we mark it not;--fruits redden,

Fresh flowers blow, as flowers have blown,

And the heart is loth to deaden

Hopes that she so long hath known.

Be thou wiser, youthful Maiden!

And when thy decline shall come,

Let not flowers, or boughs fruit-laden,

Hide the knowledge of thy doom.

Now, even now, ere wrapped in slumber,

Fix thine eyes upon the sea

That absorbs time, space, and number;

Look thou to Eternity!

Follow thou the flowing river

On whose breast are thither borne

All deceived, and each deceiver,

Through the gates of night and morn;

Through the year's successive portals;

Through the bounds which many a star 

Marks, not mindless of frail mortals

When his light returns from far.

Thus when thou with Time hast travelled

Toward the mighty gulf of things,

And the mazy stream unravelled

With thy best imaginings;

Think, if thou on beauty leanest,

Think how pitiful that stay,

Did not virtue give the meanest

Charms superior to decay.

Duty, like a strict preceptor,

Sometimes frowns, or seems to frown;

Choose her thistle for thy sceptre,

While youth's roses are thy crown.

Grasp it,--if thou shrink and tremble,

Fairest damsel of the green,

Thou wilt lack the only symbol

That proclaims a genuine queen;

And ensures those palms of honour

Which selected spirits wear,

Bending low before the Donor,

Lord of heaven's unchanging year!

William Wordsworth--- The Longest Day

 Addressed to my daughter 

Hey that's My Perch!

Some dragonflies have favorite perches, and  this 12 Spot Skimmer favored this one. When I got too close he would fly directly in front of my face and hover there for a couple of seconds like he was trying to chase me away.

Either that or he was waiting for me to kick up some supper...