Day 360 – It’s Not Always a Bad Thing

It’s Not Always a Bad Thing

Day 360

Bright Cap and Streamers by James Joyce

Bright cap and streamers,
He sings in the hollow:
Come follow, come follow,
All you that love.
Leave dreams to the dreamers
That will not after,
That song and laughter
Do nothing move.

With ribbons streaming
He sings the bolder;
In troop at his shoulder
The wild bees hum.
And the time of dreaming
Dreams is over — –
As lover to lover,
Sweetheart, I come.

A bit blown out, but sometimes it just works.  I went with a more traditional light in the second shot….

It Doesn’t Look too Bad

Day 356 – Crackin’


Day 356

An Old Cracked Tune by Stanley Kunitz

My name is Solomon Levi,
the desert is my home,
my mother’s breast was thorny,
and father I had none.

The sands whispered, Be separate,
the stones taught me, Be hard.
I dance, for the joy of surviving,
on the edge of the road.

Day 345 – Sugar Beer

The glass is scattered on Harrison Street and I almost passed it by; it is a good thing I look up, down and all around before I move on.

Today’s post brought to you by the folks over at Sugar Beer:

The Lost Drink by Andrew Barton Paterson

I had spent the night in the watch-house —
My head was the size of three —
So I went and asked the chemist
To fix up a drink for me;
And he brewed it from various bottles
With soda and plenty of ice,
With something that smelt like lemon,
And something that seemed like spice.
It fell on my parching palate
Like the dew on a sunbaked plain,
And my system began to flourish
Like the grass in the soft spring rain;
It wandered throughout my being,
Suffusing my soul with rest,
And I felt as I “scoffed” that liquid
That life had a new-found zest.I have been on the razzle-dazzle
Full many a time since then
But I never could get the chemist
To brew me that drink again.
He says he’s forgotten the notion —
‘Twas only by chance it came —
He’s tried me with various liquids
But oh! they are not the same.

We have sought, but we sought it vainly,
That one lost drink divine;
We have sampled his various bottles,
But somehow they don’t combine:
Yet I know when I cross the River
And stand on the Golden Shore
I shall meet with an angel chemist
To brew me that drink once more.

Perfect weather, a nice breeze, an hour or so on my hands in my camera’s favorite little town.  And I was left with 6 photos I really liked and since I am THISCLOSE to being finished with my 365, I decided not to limit myself to one photo choice per day.  Sugar Beer was actually not my favorite, but I liked the idea of giving this post the title Sugar Beer, so there you go.  I think Little Beard is the one I like the best, and oh!  You could smell the fragrance all of the way down the street as it wafted along with the breeze.

At the corner of Morton Street, the scent drifts on the breeze, the colors glow and I am in love.

They will shoot at anything, won’t they?

Closed for a long time, this place is starting to fade.
Allis Chalmers tractor, bright – it caught my eye in an instant as it graced a storefront.

Say Ahhh…

Day 294 – Some are Wise

Some are Wise

Day 294

Tho’ I get home how late — how late by Emily Dickinson

Tho’ I get home how late — how late —
So I get home – ’twill compensate —
Better will be the Ecstasy
That they have done expecting me —
When Night — descending — dumb — and dark —
They hear my unexpected knock —
Transporting must the moment be —
Brewed from decades of Agony!

To think just how the fire will burn —
Just how long-cheated eyes will turn —
To wonder what myself will say,
And what itself, will say to me —
Beguiles the Centuries of way!

I drove miles, and miles, and miles yesterday.  From the moment I left home for the library, to the 40 minutes I spent at lunch going to the bank and running errands, to the 120 miles I drove to and from District Band Festival (in Mattawan, MI by way of a Kalamazoo side trip) in order to surprise my wonderful son with my wonderful presence, to the 100 miles I drove to and from the far side of Elkhart, IN, I drove more miles than is pleasant.  On the way home I stopped by my old standby, Shipshewana, for a quick shot and I finally pulled into my driveway at 1:00 am.
Is it any wonder that I am wiped out today?  And guess what?  I drove an hour each way from Kalamazoo and back AGAIN today.  You know, some are wise and some are otherwise….

Day 293 – Talking in a Darkened Lot

Talking in a Darkened Lot

Day 293

Conversation Galante by T. S. Eliot

I observe: “Our sentimental friend the moon!
Or possibly (fantastic, I confess)
It may be Prester John’s balloon
Or an old battered lantern hung aloft
To light poor travelers to their distress.”
She then: “How you digress!”

And I then: “Someone frames upon the keys
That exquisite nocturne, with which we explain
The night and moonshine; music which we seize
To body forth our own vacuity.”
She then: “Does this refer to me?”
“Oh no, it is I who am inane.”

“You, madam, are the eternal humorist,
The eternal enemy of the absolute,
Giving our vagrant moods the slightest twist!
With your air indifferent and imperious
At a stroke our mad poetics to confute—”
And—“Are we then so serious?”

I took a drive tonight to find a photo.  In the skies overhead, lightning flashed sporadically and I considered abandoning my quest, however the warm air and the wind blowing into the car as I drove down dark roads convinced  me to continue.  I ended up in Shipshewana, Indiana once again – it seems to be my most frequent night-time destination – and walked around with camera and tripod.  I found a window reflecting hundreds of lights, a clay pot with a long shadow and this, the red signal light on an Amish buggy parked on a side street.
As I walked back to my car, a woman was leaving the back entrance of the Blue Gate and we greeted each other.  She thought I was with another local photographer and was quite surprised to find that I was just taking a photo for today.  Well, I don’t seem to know a stranger, so I stood in the warm air and had a lovely conversation with this woman, whose name I never learned, finding that I am “just like her cousin,” that her daughter goes against the normal flow by staying single and having a career, that her sons are extremely easy-going and that her co-worker grew up in the same geographical area I grew up in, among other things.  She and I have mutual acquaintances and my husband’s family “has hung” with members of her family.  It has been a long time since I have just stood in the warm evening air, chatting with a stranger for the sheer pleasure of the conversation.  I need to do it more often.

Day 220 – It Sparkles Like Glass

It Sparkles Like Glass

Day 220 –

Fire and Ice by Robert Frost

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favour fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.
Samantha and I took in a ice sculpture festival in nearby Shipshewana this evening.  Actually, we took in the dregs of the festival as the ice melted from crumbling sculptures and ran in little streams along the darkened sidewalks and streets.  It was hard to tell what some of the sculptures were after the relative warmth of the day got to them, but what was left of each was so sparkly and pretty.  I really couldn’t decide which photo I liked the best tonight and as a result, I am posting five of them.  Unheard of!!!!  And now I am off to look at the backs of my eyelids for a few hours and maybe a sweet dream or two.  Have a lovely Friday, dear friends; I will try to visit you all throughout the day.  Muah!

In seed time learn, in harvest teach, in winter enjoy. ~William Blake

O, wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind? ~Percy Bysshe Shelley

The color of springtime is in the flowers, the color of winter is in the imagination. ~Terri Guillemets

One kind word can warm three winter months. ~Japanese Proverb