“I should be glad if all the meadows on the earth were left in a wild state, if that were the consequence of men’s beginning to redeem themselves.”
– Henry David Thoreau
“Hope” is the thing with feathers,
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops – at all.
– Emily Dickinson
Full poem: “Hope” is the thing with feathers.
The trees are coming into leaf,
Like something almost being said.
The recent buds relax and spread,
Their greenness is a kind of grief.
One of my favorite Christmas songs. I love the melancholy mood of it. Merry Christmas everyone!
Christmas time is here.
Happiness and cheer.
Fun for all that children call,
Their favorite time of the year.
Snowflakes in the air.
Olden times and ancient rhymes,
Of love and dreams to share.
Sleigh bells in the air.
Yuletide by the fireside,
And joyful memories there.
Christmas time is here.
We’ll be drawing near.
Oh, that we could always see,
Such spirit through the year…
You can shed tears that she is gone, or you can smile because she lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that she’ll come back, or you can open your eyes and see all that she has left.
Your heart can be empty because you can’t see her, or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday, or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her and only that she’s gone, or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back, or you can do what she’d want:
Smile, open your eyes, love and live on.
– anonymous, some attribute it to Charles Henry Brent.
Did you see the lunar eclipse last night? I stepped out of my place about every 15 minutes or so to watch the show. When I was out there I wondered how many other people throughout the ages watched the moon darken with awe, as I was doing. Watching the Earth’s shadow slowly make its way across the lunar surface, I could understand how ancient peoples might start freaking out during such an event. I was also reminded of “Sister Moon,” the title song from Sting’s excellent album, …Nothing Like The Sun (who actually lifted that line from Shakespeare’s My Mistress’ Eyes sonnet).
My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the Sun.
My hunger for her explains everything I’ve done.
To howl at the moon the whole night through,
And they really don’t care if I do.
I’d go out of my mind, but for you.
I didn’t have enough ambition to mess around with my camera and tripod during last night’s -5 F temperatures, but you can see images of the eclipse from SpaceWeather.com.