She’ll come at dusky first of day, White over yellow harvest’s song. Upon her dewy rainbow way She shall be beautiful and strong. The lidless eye of noon shall spray Tan on her ankles in the hay, Shall kiss her brown the whole day long.
I’ll know her in the windrows, tall Above the crickets of the hay. I’ll know her when her odd eyes fall, One May-blue, one November-grey. I’ll watch her from the red barn wall Take down her rusty scythe, and call, And I will follow her away.
“Picking Honeysuckle” by Sophie Gengembre Anderson
Morning — is the place for Dew — Corn — is made at Noon — After dinner light — for flowers — Dukes — for setting sun! ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #223)
And I serve the fairy queen, To dew her orbs upon the green: The cowslips tall her pensioners be; In their gold coats spots you see; Those be rubies, fairy favours, In those freckles live their savours: I must go seek some dew-drops here, And hang a pearl in every cowslip’s ear. ~ William Shakespeare (A Midsummer Night’s Dream)
6.26.19 ~ cedar waxwing enjoying a mulberry
6.26.19 ~ dragonfly landing on dewy grass
We had a very wet spring and so far it’s looking to be a wet summer, too. Tuesday we got two inches of rain! It rained all day and I enjoyed many hours of family history research. But Wednesday we emerged from our den and took a walk in the very wet woods. And we saw several cedar waxwings, a new bird for us!
6.26.19 ~ cedar waxwing
6.26.19 ~ serenity
6.26.19 ~ ferns covering a bubbling brook
6.26.19
6.26.19 ~ cedar waxwing
As I approached this tree I was trying to figure out if it might be a shagbark hickory. (Still not sure…) And then a new experience for me: orbs appeared in the viewfinder when I went to take a picture! In the past, orbs have been an occasional surprise when they show up in pictures downloaded from the camera. But these were there before I even took the picture.
6.26.19
6.26.19 ~ looking up the tree with orbs
6.26.19 ~ more magic, sunlight highlighting a stone covered in lichen
In the span of centuries the rock became glazed with a gray-green crust of lichen almost indistinguishable from the rock itself, a bare coating of life. ~ Robin Wall Kimmerer (Braiding Sweetgrass: Indigenous Wisdom, Scientific Knowledge & The Teachings of Plants)
6.26.19 ~ juniper berries?
6.26.19
These trees and stones are audible to me, These idle flowers, that tremble in the wind, I understand their faery syllables, And all their sad significance. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (Collected Poems of Ralph Waldo Emerson 1823-1911)
6.6.18 ~ wild geranium, Connecticut College Arboretum New London, Connecticut
The wood is decked in light green leaf. The swallow twitters in delight. The lonely vine sheds joyous tears Of interwoven dew and light.
Spring weaves a gown of green to clad The mountain height and wide-spread field. O when wilt thou, my native land, In all thy glory stand revealed?
~ Ilia Chavchavadze (Anthology of Georgian Poetry)
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
“Summer is coming!” the soft breezes whisper; “Summer is coming!” the glad birdies sing. Summer is coming — I hear her quick footsteps; Take your last look at the beautiful Spring. ~ Dora Read Goodale (Summer Is Coming)
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
To be interested in the changing seasons is a happier state of mind than to be hopelessly in love with spring. ~ George Santayana (Words of Wisdom & Quotable Quotes)
notice the ant in the middle of the flower
new growth on a hemlock ~ might the woolly adelgid infestation be subsiding?
sunbathing on a boulder
How many Flowers fail in Wood — Or perish from the Hill — Without the privilege to know That they are Beautiful —
How many cast a nameless Pod Opon the nearest Breeze — Unconscious of the Scarlet Freight — It bear to other eyes —
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #534)
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
sweet little bluets
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
6.6.18 ~ Connecticut College Arboretum, New London, Connecticut
Honor the space between no longer and not yet. ~ Nancy Levin (Grief Interrupted: A Holistic Guide to Reclaiming Your Joy)
Janet overlooking the lawn where the audience sits to watch outdoor theater in the summer
August is the softest soft I know, This vibrating chord between summer and fall, This dew of farewell pearling in my hands. ~ Einar Skjæraasen (Seasons)
I frequently tramped eight or ten miles through the deepest snow to keep an appointment with a beech tree, or a yellow birch, or an old acquaintance among the pines. ~ Henry David Thoreau (Walden)
Oh! where do fairies hide their heads, When snow lies on the hills? When frost has spoiled their mossy beds, And crystallized their rills: Beneath the moon they cannot trip In circles o’er the plain: And draughts of dew they cannot sip, Till green leaves come again. ~ Thomas Haynes Bayly (Songs & Ballads, Grave & Gay)
Dew Drop Villas created by Cathy DeMeo ~ 10.12.12 ~ Old Lyme, Connecticut
Dewey Greenleaf is the faerie in charge of droplets of dew that appear early each day on the garden’s flowers and plants. He knows that Impressionist artists love to paint the reflections of light, sun, and sky captured by delicate dew and soft mist. So each day at dawn, before any painters arrive, he collects and freezes the glistening drops that form on his multi-level home to preserve their beauty for everyone to see. ~ Wee Faerie Village: Land of Picture Making
The fairy poet takes a sheet Of moonbeam, silver white; His ink is dew from daisies sweet, His pen a point of light. ~ Joyce Kilmer (Fairy House Handbook)
Don’t give me the whole truth, don’t bring me the ocean for my thirst, don’t give me heaven when I ask for light, but give me a glimpse, a drop, a speck, as birds carry dew drops from leaves and the wind a grain of salt. ~ Olav H. Hauge (The Ways of Water)
