“White House at Night” by Vincent van Gogh
Tonight, the moon came out, it was nearly full.
Way down here on earth, I could feel it’s pull.
The weight of gravity or just the lure of life,
Made me want to leave my only home tonight.
I’m just wondering how we know where we belong?
Is it in the arc of the moon, leaving shadows on the lawn?
In the path of fireflies and a single bird at dawn?
Singing in between here and gone?
~ Mary Chapin Carpenter
♫ (Between Here & Gone) ♫
To me, Okefenokee Swamp felt like a sacred place in the twilight, with Spanish moss hanging down like stalactites, and cypress knees rising up like stalagmites, like the ones often found in caves. I grew up playing in Cedar Swamp, another mystical place, in the woods behind our house. But this southern swamp is very different from, and much larger than, the swamps we have here in New England!
The swamp’s water is black, due to vegetation decaying in the water and leaching out tannins which stain the water in much the same way as the tannins in tea color the water in a teacup. After the swamp exploration our skiff turned out into a marsh, where we could view the sun setting and see what wildlife might come near.
To love a swamp, however, is to love what is muted and marginal, what exists in the shadows, what shoulders its way out of mud and scurries along the damp edges of what is most commonly praised. And sometimes its invisibility is a blessing. Swamps and bogs are places of transition and wild growth, breeding grounds, experimental labs where organisms and ideas have the luxury of being out of the spotlight, where the imagination can mutate and mate, send tendrils into and out of the water.
~ Barbara Hurd
(Stirring the Mud: On Swamps, Bogs & Human Imagination)
The alligators were as quiet as could be…
One last batch of pictures from Okefenokee Swamp tomorrow!
photos by Tim Rodgers
…Christmas Trees at *Somewhere in Time* (our favorite restaurant)…
Christmas trees are like moon, best enjoyed with the naked eye. After failing to capture an image on camera that came close to representing what our tree looks like to me, I realized that Christmas trees posses the same mystery and aura as the moon. Lovely Luna is one huge light-reflecting orb who never shows up on the camera the way she looks to us here on the earth. And evergreens brought in for decorating hold in their arms many small lights and orbs (and birds and garlands), radiating an enchanting glow which also never shows up well on the camera. Sigh………. A gentle reminder to stay in the moment and put down the camera… I can’t help wondering if painters have better luck capturing the magic of it all!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
How lovely are your branches!
Your boughs are green in summer’s clime
And through the snows of wintertime.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree,
How lovely are your branches!
We had a delightful winter solstice party here, eight of us around the dinner table for hours enjoying the tree, the candlelight, the food and music, the conversation of friends and story-telling.
Christmas day we went up to my father’s home. Every time we see Dad (89), Auntie (96), and Bernie (the cat) they seem to be shrinking in old age still more, if that’s even possible. Dad and I had a few quiet moments sharing a few clementines for a snack. I brought them because I know he loves them. Simple precious moments I will cherish forever. Bernie didn’t want to take a walk with me, so I sat with him at the top of the stairs for a while, petting his thin and bony body, talking to him. Then I went out for a walk in the woods by myself before it got dark.
…long midwinter shadows on the moss…
…somehow we managed to ice-skate in this swamp when we were kids…
…shortly before sunset…
If the weather cooperates we’ll go to Massachusetts this weekend for still another gathering, this time with Tim’s aunt, three cousins and all their children and grandchildren. It will no doubt be a lively day. How different holiday celebrations can be from one place to the another!
Hope your holidays were merry and bright!
“Yule Goat” by John Bauer
Keep me safe and hold me tight
Let the candle burn all night
Tomorrow welcome back the light
It was longest night of the year
We press our faces to the glass
And see our little lives go past
Wave to shadows that we cast
On the longest night of the year
Make a vow when Solstice comes
To find the Light in everyone
Keep the faith and bang the drum
On the longest night of the year
~ Mary Chapin Carpenter
♫ (Longest Night of the Year) ♫
LADY dear, if Fairies may
For a moment lay aside
Cunning tricks and elfish play,
‘Tis at happy Christmas-tide.
We have heard the children say -
Gentle children, whom we love -
Long ago, on Christmas Day,
Came a message from above.
Still, as Christmas-tide comes round,
They remember it again -
Echo still the joyful sound,
‘Peace on earth, good-will to men.’
Yet the hearts must child-like be
Where such heavenly guests abide.
Unto children, in their glee,
All the year is Christmas-tide.
Thus, forgetting tricks and play
For a moment, Lady dear,
We would wish you, if we may,
Merry Christmas, glad New Year.
~ Lewis Carroll
(From a Fairy to a Child, Christmas, 1887)
God Jul!
Winter Solstice: December 22, 2011, 12:30 a.m.
December 21, 2012, 6:12 a.m.
Christmas ~ Midwinter ~ Yule
Movement ~ Rebirth ~ Renewal
Seasonal movies:
Three Wishes for Cinderella
Christmas Story
Merry Christmas!
…biggest, brightest full moon of 2008…
Should at that moment the full moon
Step forth upon the hill,
And memories hard to bear at noon,
By moonlight harder still,
Form in the shadows of the trees, –
Things that you could not spare
And live, or so you thought, yet these
All gone, and you still there,
A man no longer what he was,
Not yet the thing he planned…
~ Edna St. Vincent Millay
(Wine from These Grapes)
“Carnation, Lily, Lily, Rose” by John Singer Sargent
Things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and ashes, and forgot.
~ William Shakespeare
(A Midsummer Night’s Dream)
Charcoal portrait of Emerson by Eastman Johnson
A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Out upon your guarded lips! Sew them up with packthread, do. Else if you would be a man speak what you think to-day in words as hard as cannon balls, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. Ah, then, exclaim the aged ladies, you shall be sure to be misunderstood! Misunderstood! It is a right fool’s word. Is it so bad then to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.
~ Ralph Waldo Emerson
(Self-Reliance)