I and my environment seem to have become one:
an indistinct persistence of sightless fog meandering aimlessly through a forest of uncertainty.
Frost on an early morning that shivers with trepidation in shadowed places, knowing that the light of another dawn might eventually render it extinct.
A feeble winter sun that timidly lurks behind sporadic mists and naked branches in search of a fragile day that vanishes too quickly to absorb any warmth.
Nothing profound intended here. Just random, fleeting thoughts on a yawning December afternoon. Thoughts designed to accompany the recent photos I took on my property (that sounds more impressive than "in my yard").
I deleted my previous blog post but salvaged the photos.
It's painfully obvious that I'm not in the mood to blog, don't have the holiday spirit, and have been forcing myself to get through another December.
I'm weary of the mercilessly endless daily personal problems, of the frenzied holiday hypocrisy, of existence in general.....
Don't read too much into it.
It's part of my peculiar nature, part of the poet within me, and part of the privilege of expressing myself.
Photos, anyone?
Dawn
An evergreen at dawn this morning
Morning Frost
The rising moon last evening
There are some really gorgeous photos there! You're lucky to have such a place to explore, even if it is a bit of a pain being that far out in the wilds
ReplyDeleteJenny, I'm always pleasantly surprised at how many good photos I get in my own yard. Often I don't even have to wander away from the back porch. This always compensates for the rural inconveniences.
DeleteAs often happens, I'm mesmerized by your first three paragraphs. I read, and re-read. And I'm drawn into imagination. Apt, this time of year. It may be 70* in the house, but now I'm wanting to seek the shelter of a heavy fleece throw. That, and a cup of Cabernet. Salut!
ReplyDeleteIt really means a lot to know that you re-read and absorb. Thank you for that. Many people simply skim over things and don't "get" it.
DeleteUnfortunately, it's always freezing in my abode - even when the heat is on. The perpetual dampness is horrible. I usually dive under the covers and pray that I'll survive until spring.
I too did a re-read of your poetic writing. I wish I could write that way. Your photographs are good too, even though the sun don't shine it doesn't kill the beauty of your surroundings.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Valerie. Every now and then I get into a "poetic" mood. After re-reading my efforts I sometimes regret it (*smile*)
DeleteBeautiful photos. I especially love the lacy frosted drapy plants.
ReplyDeleteYou brought to mind that phrase "waxing poetic". I wonder where in the world that originated? It was the style for writers for such a long time. I can picture you in another time...with a group of artists and writers who gather at a local cafe or pub...discussing life and art...maybe you are a composer...
Funny the things that come to mind. :)
Rita, I have found various definitions for "waxing poetic" but I haven't yet been able to discover the origin. It's a rather strange phrase.
DeleteI have always felt that I was born (at least) 100 years too late. I've never really fit into the modern world. My heart and soul seem to be existing in another time and place....
.....and yet I'd be lost without my computer....
love the photos.
ReplyDelete