"When you enter a grove peopled with
ancient trees, higher than
the ordinary, and shutting out the sky with their thickly inter-twined
branches, do not the stately shadows of the wood, the stillness of
the place, and the awful gloom of this doomed cavern then strike
you with the presence of a deity?" - Seneca
"He fell to the seat, she by his side. There were no more words. The
stars were beginning to shine. How was it that the birds sing, that the
snow melts, that the rose opens, that May blooms, that the dawns
whitens behind the black trees on the shivering summit of the hills?
One kiss, and that was all.
Both trembled, and they looked at each other in the darkness with brilliant eyes.
They felt neither the cool night, nor the cold stone, nor the damp
ground, nor the wet grass; they looked at each other, and their hearts
were full of thought. They had clasped hands, without knowing it.
She did not ask him; did not even think where and how he had
managed to get into the garden. It seemed so natural to her that he
should be there.
From time to time Marius’ knee touched Cosette’s. A touch that thrilled.
At times, Cosette faltered out a word. Her soul trembled on her lips like a drop of dew on a flower.
Gradually, they began to talk. Overflow succeeded to silence, which
is fullness. The night was serene and glorious above their heads. These
two beings, pure as spirits, told each other everything, their dreams,
their frenzies, their ecstasies, their chimeras, their despondencies,
how they had adored each other from afar, how they had longed for each
other, their despair when they had ceased to see each other. They had
confided to each other in an intimacy of the ideal, which already,
nothing could have increased, all that was most hidden and most
mysterious in themselves. They told each other, with a candid faith in
their illusions, all that love, youth and the remnant of childhood that
was theirs, brought to mind. These two hearts poured themselves out to
each other, so that at the end of an hour, it was the young man who had
the young girl’s soul and the young girl who had the soul of the young
man. They interpenetrated, they enchanted, they dazzled each other.
A single-single rose for you, Freda. We are getting a hint of our Autumn to be up here...I started wearing socks again for the last couple days; the rain is very cold when I go running in it; fledglings from many of my birds are showing up at the feeders with their parents; and my inner metabolism is gearing up to put up the storm windows, bring in the harvest as I may and start canning those soups and stews, sauces, veggies and fruits. The temp here tonight is 56 and going down...like I said, just a hint.
Hey, Lady..."it's" a lot easier than it may appear. I simply let the camera do all the work. Oh, I may have to crawl around a bit to find the right angle, or wait for that light that I am devoted to to render all the impact and emotion that made me take the photo in the first place, but, it's just a snapshot in so many words. Only rarely do I use Photoshop to make any major revisions that didn't exist to begin with....that's why I used THIS particular photo to have this chat....could you imagine me sitting there trying to create all of those separate images in each single drop? Yes...it could be do, I suppose, after all, I can create my own universe and have the wind and stars at my command. Not bad for a guy that made his living digging in the dirt, and all his spare time climbing mountains only to have to climb back down. Hahahahaha!
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much
advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and
touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.~Henri Nouwen
Morning, Freda! How went the festivities during the fourth? I was just lying around still trying to get over my pulled back...still have moving to do, so it better improve in a hurry! HA! Glad to see you here, now all I have to do is get you a little active in a couple of the groups...??? (Incidentally, nice legs in the avatar....forgive me for looking!)
Nice to see you here, Freda...I hope you will enjoy it. Settle in, take a look around...like I said on FB, it's very quiet here, but that may be to your advantage. Hope to talk some more soon! Jim
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ancient trees, higher than
the ordinary, and shutting out the sky with their thickly inter-twined
branches, do not the stately shadows of the wood, the stillness of
the place, and the awful gloom of this doomed cavern then strike
you with the presence of a deity?"
- Seneca
stars were beginning to shine. How was it that the birds sing, that the
snow melts, that the rose opens, that May blooms, that the dawns
whitens behind the black trees on the shivering summit of the hills?
One kiss, and that was all.
Both trembled, and they looked at each other in the darkness with brilliant eyes.
They felt neither the cool night, nor the cold stone, nor the damp ground, nor the wet grass; they looked at each other, and their hearts
were full of thought. They had clasped hands, without knowing it.
She did not ask him; did not even think where and how he had managed to get into the garden. It seemed so natural to her that he
should be there.
From time to time Marius’ knee touched Cosette’s. A touch that thrilled.
At times, Cosette faltered out a word. Her soul trembled on her lips like a drop of dew on a flower.
Gradually, they began to talk. Overflow succeeded to silence, which is fullness. The night was serene and glorious above their heads. These
two beings, pure as spirits, told each other everything, their dreams,
their frenzies, their ecstasies, their chimeras, their despondencies,
how they had adored each other from afar, how they had longed for each
other, their despair when they had ceased to see each other. They had
confided to each other in an intimacy of the ideal, which already,
nothing could have increased, all that was most hidden and most
mysterious in themselves. They told each other, with a candid faith in
their illusions, all that love, youth and the remnant of childhood that
was theirs, brought to mind. These two hearts poured themselves out to
each other, so that at the end of an hour, it was the young man who had
the young girl’s soul and the young girl who had the soul of the young
man. They interpenetrated, they enchanted, they dazzled each other.
When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and
touch our wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.~Henri Nouwen
Hope it adds to the rest of the beauty in your Life...that you are.
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