And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies.
~ Christopher Marlowe (1564-93)
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow’st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
~ William Shakespeare, Sonnet 18
These sweetly scented antique roses currently blooming at my deck.
Weekly photo challenge Rare
As far as photography, I’ve been feeling a little stale lately, like I don’t really have anything new to offer. You know a few vintage finds here and there, some clearance score or favorite meal of the week. But maybe I’ve been thinking about it the wrong way. Maybe the trick is finding new ways through familiar things.
And most of my weekends feel decidedly less than glamorous (think: catching up on the laundry, watering the plants, hitting the grocery, and other sundry and not very exciting errands… like spacing around the garden.) I am growing 40 variety of roses right now, mostly the English and the antique roses. And the best thing that happened to me this week, despite the heat wave, they blooms.
Two kinds of gratitude: The sudden kind we feel for what we take; the larger kind we feel for what we give. ~ Edward Arlington Robinson
I may never be happy, but tonight I am content. Nothing more than an empty house, the warm hazy weariness from a day spent setting strawberry runners in the sun, a glass of cool sweet milk, and a shallow dish of blueberries bathed in cream. When one is so tired at the end of a day one must sleep, and at the next dawn there are more strawberry runners to set, and so one goes on living, near the earth. At times like this I’d call myself a fool to ask for more…
~ Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath.
Well I don’t grow strawberries, I plant hydrangeas. I love the apple green foliage, the blue blooms and the bushy shrubs. I dug a bed for them, I moved nearly every. single. piece. of rock and stone friends…
I am content with my ‘blue bed’.
It rained all weekend,
but today the peaked roofs
are as dusty and warm
as the backs of old donkeys
tied in the sun.
So much alike are our houses,
our lives. Under every eave—
leaf, cobweb, and feather;
and for each front yard
one sentimental maple,
who after a shower has passed,
weeps into her shadow
~ ‘A Monday in May’ by Ted Kooser, Flying at Night.
“As it so happens, I like your mouth.”
“It doesn’t — ”
“Challenge me?” He set the bottle down and moved to the end of the bed. “An outspoken woman makes the world a livable place. You have fire in you, and I would never put that out.”
~ Dannika Dark, Twist
Weekly photo challenge Face
Even the unexpected fits the plan
All works of days a network meshed so fine
that even accidents assume their fitted place
the unknown, gambits predesigned.
the uninvited, already registered
What I have done today
was launched at birth
not mine alone but everyone’s
back to the single strand.
One more, one less, unthinkable
fulcrum for toppling the universe.
Nothing means that wasn’t meant
Nothing meant that doesn’t mean.
My touch upon your hand this morning
confirmed ten billions souls in balance
explained five million years of standing up
justified a million galaxies
and the opening this afternoon
of that tiny tea rose near the window.
~ ‘Cosmos’ by unknown
Weekly photo challenge Earth
five things that have made her week