For man, autumn is a time of harvest, of gathering together. For nature, it is a time of sowing, of scattering abroad. ~ Edwin Way Teale (Autumn Across America)
A light wind swept over the corn, and all nature laughed in the sunshine. ~ Anne Brontë (The Tenant of Wildfell Hall)
On this day we woke up in Bergen, rented a car, and made our way out of the city to Hardangerfjord. We spent most of this day driving the length of the fjord (179 km or 111 miles) and enjoying the scenery, making a couple of stops. The first thing we spotted was this tiny island with a little building sitting on it. It was so picturesque we looked for a spot to pull over so we could take pictures of it. As we were waiting to cross the highway we heard shrieks of delight and turned to see two girls coming down the side road on a bicycle. I got this picture (above) as they were turning around and getting ready to head back up the hill. They were gone as quickly as they appeared!
So then we walked across the highway and took lots of pictures of the little island, wishing we could somehow see the other side of it! It might be a boathouse?
Dawn-awakening coves, hammer-blows of light against the sky and out there in the fjord mouth, birdsong, clamorous, crescendo as from a works yard, the strident assembly of a brand new day, a sun will soon be ready for launching! ~ Stein Mehren (Early)
This pretty scene (below) was also to be appreciated – I love how the mountains were reflected in the fjord.
Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns – Adds poignancy to Winter – The shivery Fancy turns
To a fictitious Country To palliate a Cold – Not obviated of Degree – Nor eased – of Latitude –
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #551)
2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
The Mayflower II (above) is at Mystic Seaport for restoration. This replica of the original Mayflower was constructed in England and launched in 1956. Her home port is Plimoth Plantation in Massachusetts.
some parts in the middle of the Mystic River were free of ice
Elm Grove Cemetery ~ 2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
You mustn’t rush about in endless rings but learn to love the nearest things. ~ Arne Paasche Aasen (The Ways of Water)
2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
Not all the lanes were plowed in Elm Grove Cemetery so we couldn’t get to the graves of my White ancestors, but the cemetery was full of interesting snow drifts and shadows, and views of the snow and ice covered river.
ice blanketed in snow ~ 2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
You must rejoice in life every day; don’t wait until the moment has passed you by before acknowledging what a good time it really was! Don’t pin your hopes on the happiness of days to come. The older one gets, the more one realizes that the ability to savor the moment is a state of grace, a glorious gift… ~ Marie Curie (Seasons)
misty sunlit noon swamp mallows basking in pink a storm on the way ~ Barbara Rodgers (By the Sea)
8.12.14 ~ Eastern Point Beach
I first met this battered old gull three years ago in August of 2011, when we were expecting Hurricane Irene. Today he sat on this post right next to us, closer than he’s ever come before, and we heard his long and mournful cry again. He looks a lot worse for wear, his life has no doubt been difficult with that badly mangled foot. Now it looks like he has a barnacle or a growth on his beak. I think he was letting us know about the approaching rain storm. No hurricane this time, though.
As if some little Arctic flower Opon the polar hem – Went wandering down the Latitudes Until it puzzled came To continents of summer – To firmaments of sun – To strange, bright crowds of flowers – And birds, of foreign tongue! I say, As if this little flower – To Eden, wandered in – What then? Why nothing, Only, your inference therefrom! ~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #177)
The polar hem – I became completely enchanted with the metaphor Emily used for the Arctic Circle! What wildflowers might there be living north of latitude 66° 33′ 44″ N? The purple saxifrage in the photo above grows on Svalbard, a Norwegian archipelago in the Arctic Ocean, well above the polar circle, at latitudes 74° to 81° N.
So what would it mean if this little Arctic flower found itself in Paradise? I suppose it could only mean what we think it means – the possibilities are infinite!
It’s morning again, little hope, and the world’s drying off with fresh-laundered sunshine. Life’s face is never the same though we may look at it for all eternity. ~ Kolbein Falkeid (Morning)