At Holehird Gardens, Windermere the fragrant blooms of the wisteria attract the butterflies in large numbers. There must have been at least ten of the darlings on the flowers at one time.
It has been a dream of mine to have a butterfly land on my hand so I stood patiently with my palms flat and open to the sky hoping one of them would land for just a short while.
I didn’t manage to entice one to my hand but two of them did approach, one on my scarf and one on my shoulder. Pure delight.
This stretch of beach holds many memories for me. I have been visiting this place all my life. My parents and an Aunt and Uncle brought me here as a child to run on the sands, collect shells and paddle in the sea. I have been coming here from childhood to adulthood and as they say, a sunset is never the same, reminding me that memories remain and tomorrow will bring more to remember.
“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.
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.
Courage is a complex thing. This week I plucked some esteem, mixed it with loving support, a dash of excitement and voila, I published my collection of poetry on Kindle. Please take a look, the sample is available for a little peek;
When haughty expectations prostrate lie,
