“Share a photograph inspired by a favorite poem, verse, story, or song lyric. Bonus points if you share why the particular text resonates with you. (Though you certainly don’t have to!) If you’re not feeling especially literary or musical this week, see if you can capture the beauty of morning or evening half-light in your corner of the globe”.
You know I love Emily Dickinson poetry, so who better. The photo was taken in my town at the channel on a glorious evening in Spring 2014.
Nightmare….stranded. This is just great. The surge of anger at herself fuzzed the situation and the previous few hour’s alcohol wasn’t helping. She still had her house key so the only thing bothering her now was getting from A to B. There was only one thing for it just start walking. It was 1am. The nightclub had started emptying and she couldn’t see any of her friends even now as the lights started to flicker on for chucking out.
Outside was a chaotic gathering of party goers and taxis, she had to leave. She walked in the direction of her clumsy compass. She got to the end of the road and recognised some buildings, great right turn. She was consoled by the well-lit direct route ahead. She looked up for a moment, this is familiar, then fear hit her feet. This was the area of the city where she had worked in a medical centre as a student, the red light district with all the stories she had been told during her placement. Including this renowned location as one of the most dangerous streets in the country. Over the road out of the corner of her eye were a huddle of figures, she dared not turn her head, she walk faster. She now hoped to God she was invisible. She saw the medical centre in the distance that meant the end of the road. Now just a short walk up hill through the well-known street gang area. Great. She hadn’t thought this through, but what other choice did she have.
Footsteps now pattered behind her, louder, thundering. She turned sharply, stumbling due to the pace her feet had been panicking. Approaching was the man she had spoken to for part of the night at the bar. Nice bloke, no cheesy wanker but a boy from the same small town background, finding himself in an edgy club that seemed too much like a movie set and borderline illegal.
“I shouted you, but hell you can walk. I saw you leave and thought what is she doing? Mad cow.”
“I lost my purse in there” she explained.
“Pocketed I bet. I was gonna offer you a lift in our taxi then you strutted off.”
“Can we walk?”
As they walked, they talked and realised they were both talking ten to the dozen. Adrenaline no doubt. They seemed to have reached to her front door without realising how far they had come.
“I’m here”
They stopped. Silent for a time, just breathing. The alcohol fueled confidence had dispersed and they hesitated as to what to do next.
“That must have been one of the craziest things I’ve ever done” he said.
“What you? You’re in the Army! In the Gulf! Walking home is crazy?”
“We’re well kitted out”
They laughed.
Hell he wasn’t wrong. That must have been one of the most dangerous, idiotic things, to risk your life getting home from a nightclub. Another awkward moment, then they were distracted by a bus passing at the top of the street. Night buses that stopped round the corner at the hospital gates, he pointed and ran in that direction waving as he went. No number, no call me, nothing exchanged. She half expected a knock at the door some weeks later and they would have laughed at the crazy girl that walks so fast her feet don’t touch the floor!
Years later she tells this story to a friend. The friend asks,”was he in white, no name given, and vanished faster than you blink?” She looks puzzled. The friend explains that she believes we are sent earth angels in dangerous times to keep us safe. You know, the guy was dressed completely in white.
the day is long and yet the sun shines for a short time as winter is not yet done the sun rises but not so high as to reach the garden chair or flower beds for glory power of the shine is for only a spell as I am reminded of days that will come a brief glimpse of golden rays spark of brighter days and hope as spring will surely come
Snowdrops are a delightful sight in February. They give a bright feel to mossy grounds which sparks a little joy on a grey day. These flowers are known to have approximately 20 variations of species and can grow up to 30cm tall. The botanical name is Galanthus, gala in Greek means “milk” and anthos, meaning “flower”(Wikipedia.org).
Although they are cultivated far and wide it is thought that they are native to eastern Europe. It is believed that many soldiers of the Crimean War brought small bundles of these bulbs back to Britain, but were first documented in Botanical text in the 16th century (www.nhm.ac.uk). Today they are cherished and there are dedicated Snowdrop Gardens open throughout the UK.
The snowdrops delicate nature has attracted the attention of many poets. Emily Dickinson, the garden lover, often uses metaphors to describe elements of nature. In the poem “I taste a liquor never brewed” she is giving praise to her garden, “drunk” on the intoxication of scent, beauty and botanical skills in cultivation. She uses metaphor to convey feelings, in my opinion, of her joy in the garden. I love the last stanza as she refers to the “seraphs” (a variety of snowdrop) as they “swing their snowy hats”.
I taste a liquor never brewed – From Tankards scooped in Pearl – Not all the Vats upon the Rhine Yield such an Alcohol! Inebriate of air – am I – And Debauchee of Dew – Reeling – thro’ endless summer days – From inns of Molten Blue – When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee Out of the Foxglove’s door – When Butterflies – renounce their “drams” – I shall but drink the more! Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats – And Saints – to windows run – To see the little Tippler Leaning against the – Sun! By Emily Dickinson. William Wordsworth also thought of these little white flowers as angelic. In his poem “On seeing a tuft of snowdrops in a storm”, he uses words such as “faithful and immortal”.
When haughty expectations prostrate lie, And grandeur crouches like a guilty thing, Oft shall the lowly weak, till nature bring Mature release, in fair society Survive, and Fortune’s utmost anger try; Like these frail snow-drops that together cling, And nod their helmets smitten by the wing Of many a furious whirlblast sweeping by. Observe the faithful flowers! if small to great May lead the thoughts, thus struggling used to stand The Emathian phalanx, nobly obstinate; And so the bright immortal Theban band, Whom onset, fiercely urged at Jove’s command, Might overwhelm, but could not separate! By William Wordsworth.
WordPress Photo Challenge: Artists are inspired by and capture the world around us: sculptors immortalize people with statues; painters record events in their masterpieces. What about the other way around? For this week’s theme, find inspiration in a piece of art, and go further: imitate it.
I took this photograph yesterday, a lucky discovering in a public walled garden as one of my favourite paintings is Van Gogh’s Irises.
My town and its surrounding areas have been plagued by floods this winter. Movement from town to town is restricted as rainfall causes problems to roads, cars, and rail travel. It seems to be raining for a season. My recollection of previous winters has been cold mornings with frost covered lawns and a wind that slaps your face with a chilling sting. If wet, lingering rain and floods are to be our depths of winter then we are certainly not prepared. The ground is not prepared as no drainage is available and waterways are not viable. The foliage is not resting as trees and flora remain green. I wonder what fauna make of all this weather? What effect is this environmental change having on the animal life?
In our current ways of living we know the effects of stress, lack of sleep and tiredness. Will the earth rest less, will wildlife struggle to maintain their habitats? And will spring come with a leap, or will lethargy remain in all things. I dearly hope that with the return of the early sunrise and brighter skies the earth will regain its step, light will rekindle all souls and rhythm will balance once more.
As we toast to the New Year may we collectively think of all those effected by weather change and displacement. So as the clocks chime to the start 2016 may we all think of those working, volunteering and coping. May all our hearts send goodwill to all people and to our home this planet we share, call earth.
When haughty expectations prostrate lie,
In our current ways of living we know the effects of stress, lack of sleep and tiredness. Will the earth rest less, will wildlife struggle to maintain their habitats? And will spring come with a leap, or will lethargy remain in all things. I dearly hope that with the return of the early sunrise and brighter skies the earth will regain its step, light will rekindle all souls and rhythm will balance once more. 
Medicinalmeadows 