“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
There is hope! The Monarch butterflies have finally made some appearances, although not in large numbers. This one flew in for a landing and cooperated with my camera’s intrusion, allowing me to capture several photos.
I have over a decade of archives. Throughout the year I’m going to pull out a few of my favorites, and a few of yours too. God bless you all throughout the month of December.
Dear the people coming home,
Dear glad faces long away,
Dear the merry cries, and dear
All the glad and happy play.
Dear the thanks, too, that we give
For all of this Thanksgiving Day.
Harriet Prescott Spofford (1835 – 1921) – was an American writer of novels, poems and detective stories.
God bless you today on Thanksgiving.
PHOTOGRAPH COURTESY OF MY FRIEND, MARY D. THANK YOU.
“”We who are strong ought to bear with the failings of the weak and not to please ourselves.”
~ Romans 15:1
“Each is given a bag of tools,
A shapeless mass,
A book of rules;
And each must make,
Ere life has flown,
A stumbling-block
Or a stepping-stone.
~ R. L. Sharpe
Photos of Block Island, Rhode Island
In the waning days of July, my backyard is a living canvas of flowers and beautiful bugs.
“The pedigree of honey does not concern the bee, a clover, anytime, to him, is aristocracy.” ~ Emily Dickinson
“Until the crickets sing it is not summer.” ~ Greek Proverb
Hurt no living thing:
Ladybird, nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wing.
~Christina Georgina Rossetti
“A dragonfly to remind me even though we are apart,
Your spirit is always with me,
Forever in my heart.
~ Author Unknown
“Happiness is a butterfly, which, when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.”
~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
The year’s at the spring,
And day’s at the morn;
Morning’s at seven;
The hill-side’s dew-pearled;
The lark’s on the wing;
The snail’s on the thorn;
God’s in his Heaven—
All’s right with the world!
~ Robert Browning
Today’s Color Your World – 120 Days of Crayola color is Goldenrod. I don’t have any goldenrod flowers on hand, but I do have the promise of daffodils growing in my garden. Yesterday, I walked around the yard and found the promise of Spring in the midst of a nice clump of daffodil leaves.
“I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.”
~ William Wordsworth
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.”
~ William Wordsworth
The entire poem by William Wordsworth can be found here: I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud by William Wordsworth
Daffodil Photographs were taken at Longwood Gardens Conservatory, Kennett Square, Pennsylvania.
“So let us know, let us press on to know the LORD His going forth is as certain as the dawn; And He will come to us like the rain, Like the spring rain watering the earth.” ~ Hosea 6:3
“It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade.” ~ Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kDFnERzDzaE
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.”
~ William Wordsworth, I Wander’d Lonely as a Cloud
“Symbolizing rebirth and new beginnings, the daffodil is virtually synonymous with spring. Though their botanic name is narcissus, daffodils are sometimes called jonquils, and in England, because of their long association with Lent, they’re known as the ‘Lent Lily.'” ~ Teleflora
“The morns are meeker than they were,
The nuts are getting brown;
The berry’s cheek is plumper,
The rose is out of town.
The maple wears a gayer scarf,
The field a scarlet gown.
Lest I should be old-fashioned,
I’ll put a trinket on.”
– Emily Dickinson
A chill in the air,
Skies are leaden gray,
Winter waits in the wings,
Autumn wanes away…
~
My Daffodils are blooming, enlivening the barren earth of my garden beds with exuberant yellows, creams and oranges. I love this time of year and the beginning of Spring’s blossoms. The daffodils are among the earliest of the season’s bloomers. Along with hyacinths and crocus, they provide a cheerful burst of color and promise warmer weather is on the way.
Daffodil Culture is fairly easy: Purchase the bulbs in the Autumn, plant about six inches deep, and reap the reward of blossoms in the Spring. The aftercare is a bit trickier. Long after the flowers have come and gone, the foliage remains, often becoming a bit ragged in appearance. My first instinct is to cut it off, but there lies the problem, the plant receives nourishment for next year’s blooms through the foliage. I usually let the long strap-like leaves grow until they begin to yellow and flop over. At this point I bundle them, double them down, and rubber band them into a neat clump. Some horticulturists and master gardeners say this is not a good idea, but I contain the foliage this way every year, and my daffodils seem to thrive.
William Wordsworth, an English Romantic Poet, wrote a poem about daffodils that became one of his best known works. I think he captured exactly how I feel when I look at a flowerbed or field full of daffodils. When the sun warms the earth, and she responds with new life, I want to dance with the daffodils too.
DAFFODILS
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced;
but they Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.
William Wordsworth (1770-1850)
