And this our life, exempt from public haunt,
Finds tongues in trees, books in the running brooks,
Sermons in stones, and good in everything.
~William Shakespeare, As You Like It
Photography
“Black and white are the colors of photography. To me, they symbolize
the alternatives of hope and despair to which mankind is subjected.” — Robert Frank
Later on today Leanne Cole and Laura Macky’s weekly Monochrome Madness will be posted for your viewing pleasure on Leanne’s blog. If you would like to participate and submit a photo in the coming weeks, please email your monochrome image to leanne@leannecole.com.au and include a link to your blog or website if you have one. It doesn’t have to be WordPress blogger, it can be a Facebook page, a Flickr page, etc. Include your name or your blog name. The image size should be low resolution, so the largest size should be 1000 pixels or less. The deadline for submission is before 6 p.m. on or before Tuesday, Melbourne Australia time. The earlier the better for Leanne. If you should miss the deadline your photograph will be posted the following week. The complete instructions are posted on Leanne’s blog should you have any questions or need help. Thanks!
◕ \ ۩ /◕
There’s a certain Slant of light
by Emily Dickinson
There’s a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons –
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes –
Heavenly Hurt, it gives us –
We can find no scar,
But internal difference –
Where the Meanings, are –
None may teach it – Any –
‘Tis the seal Despair –
An imperial affliction
Sent us of the Air –
When it comes, the Landscape listens –
Shadows – hold their breath –
When it goes, ’tis like the Distance
On the look of Death –
“So she poured out the liquid music of her voice to quench the thirst of his spirit.”
~ Nathaniel Hawthorne
Nala’s calf expressing surprise from his first night time photo flash.
Below Matt expresses his bullishness in the intoxicating snow.
“Never express yourself more clearly than you are able to think.” — Niels Bohr
Weekly Photo Challenge: Express Yourself
When you’re really happy,
the birds chirp and the sun shines even on cold dark winter nights
— and flowers will bloom on a barren land. — Terri Guillemets
“Nothing is more beautiful than the love that has weathered the storms of life.
The love of the young for the young, that is the beginning of life.
But the love of the old for the old, that is the beginning of things longer.”
Jerome K. Jerome
“so I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.” ― Pablo Neruda
It’s about time we started to take photography seriously and treat it as a hobby. – Elliott Erwitt
Later on today Leanne Cole and Laura Macky’s weekly Monochrome Madness will be posted for your viewing pleasure on Leanne’s blog. If you would like to participate and submit a photo in the coming weeks, please email your monochrome image to leanne@leannecole.com.au and include a link to your blog or website if you have one. It doesn’t have to be WordPress blogger, it can be a Facebook page, a Flickr page, etc. Include your name or your blog name. The image size should be low resolution, so the largest size should be 1000 pixels or less. The deadline for submission is before 6 p.m. on or before Tuesday, Melbourne Australia time. The earlier the better for Leanne. If you should miss the deadline your photograph will be posted the following week. The complete instructions are posted on Leanne’s blog should you have any questions or need help. Thanks!
♥…\|/…♥
Hawk Roosting
by Ted Hughes
I sit in the top of the wood, my eyes closed.
Inaction, no falsifying dream
Between my hooked head and hooked feet:
Or in sleep rehearse perfect kills and eat.
The convenience of the high trees!
The air’s buoyancy and the sun’s ray
Are of advantage to me;
And the earth’s face upward for my inspection.
My feet are locked upon the rough bark.
It took the whole of Creation
To produce my foot, my each feather:
Now I hold Creation in my foot
Or fly up, and revolve it all slowly –
I kill where I please because it is all mine.
There is no sophistry in my body:
My manners are tearing off heads –
The allotment of death.
For the one path of my flight is direct
Through the bones of the living.
No arguments assert my right:
The sun is behind me.
Nothing has changed since I began.
My eye has permitted no change.
I am going to keep things like this.
Maverick Mist 