The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time Any fool can do it There ain’t nothing to it Nobody knows how we got to The top of the hill But since we’re on our way down We might as well enjoy the ride
The secret of love is in opening up your heart It’s okay to feel afraid But don’t let that stand in your way ‘Cause anyone knows that love is the only road And since we’re only here for a while Might as well show some style Give us a smile
Isn’t it a lovely ride Sliding down Gliding down Try not to try too hard It’s just a lovely ride Now the thing about time is that time Isn’t really real It’s just your point of view How does it feel for you Einstein said he could never understand it all Planets spinning through space The smile upon your face Welcome to the human race
~ James Taylor ♫ (Secret o’ Life) ♫
James Taylor in the 1970s.
The other day this song came on the radio — I hadn’t heard it in ages and found that it has even more meaning to me now than it did in the past. Lately I’ve been so at peace with the passage of time… Even often ‘feeling afraid’ isn’t spoiling the ride. James Taylor was the first singer-songwriter I followed with passion as a teen. Since he was about 9 years older than me I often found his songs expressing and reflecting feelings I’ve had along the way.
He’s going to perform with Bonnie Raitt at Fenway Park in Boston on August 11. Not sure I could handle the traffic or the crowds but it is so tempting to dream about! Live music is always amazing…
All forests are one. … They are all echoes of the first forest that gave birth to Mystery when the world began. ~ Charles de Lint (Pulphouse: The Hardback Magazine, Spring 1990)
The realm of fairy-story is wide and deep and high and filled with many things: all manner of beasts and birds are found there; shoreless seas and stars uncounted; beauty that is an enchantment, and an ever-present peril; both joy and sorrow as sharp as swords. In that realm a man may, perhaps, count himself fortunate to have wandered, but its very richness and strangeness tie the tongue of a traveler who would report them. And while he is there it is dangerous for him to ask too many questions, lest the gates should shut and the keys be lost. ~ J. R. R. Tolkien (J. R. R. Tolkien’s Sanctifying Myth: Understanding Middle-earth)
In the woods, sitting still, there is subtle joy in listening to the tiniest sounds. There is delight in the textures of light. ~ Joan Tollifson (Awake in the Heartland)
7.24.16 ~ Richmond, New Hampshire
We, all of us — blue-green algae, galaxies, and bear grass, philosophers and clams — will some day dissipate into vibrating motes. In the end, all of natural creation is only sound and silence moving through space and time, like music. ~ Kathleen Dean Moore (The Pine Island Paradox: Making Connections in a Disconnected World)
before sunrise from our balcony ~ 10.12.15 ~ Dennis Port, Massachusetts
An incurable early bird, on the last morning of our little weekend getaway I found myself unable to sleep and so decided to get up and read and gaze out of the sliding glass doors of our room at the Sea Shell Motel in Dennis Port on Cape Cod. It was about 40 minutes before sunrise and there was an intense yellow orange glow on the horizon.
walking over the dune ~ 10.12.15 ~ Dennis Port, Massachusetts
As sunrise approached I decided to bundle up in my coat and my new Norwegian wool hat with ear flaps and walk down to the windy beach to take some pictures and enjoy some early morning solitude. It was the best moment of the day.
sunrise on the beach ~ 10.12.15 ~ Dennis Port, Massachusetts
Thoughts turned to beloved grandparents who lived in Dennis Port, just up the street. When I was little we stayed with them at their house but sometime in the late 1980s, when my own children were little, my grandmother’s health problems became such that staying in a motel nearby became necessary. There’s no way to count the times we have stayed at the Sea Shell in the past 30 years or so. Each room is unique and charming, well-worn but clean and comfortable. No frills, just a short wooden walkway over the dune to the beach, the sounds of waves breaking close by.
the sun keeps rising ~ 10.12.15 ~ Dennis Port, Massachusetts
I wanted to come here for old times’ sake. So often on this recent trip nature would vividly illustrate the simple truth that nothing is solid in the boundless flow of time and place, there is nothing to grasp. It was here that my grandparents embraced me with abiding wisdom and persisting love. But now they are long gone, even though I feel their presence still. The waves break on the sand and disappear and yet are still there, like the voices of my small curious children. Cape Cod is slipping into the sea.
The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers. ~ Matsuo Bashō (Voices from Earth)
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
There is an extraordinary place located in the quiet corner of Connecticut. My sister and I used to frequent Logee’s, a sprawl of greenhouses specializing in rare and tropical plants and fruit trees. But I think it’s been a good ten or twenty years since we’ve been there.
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
Flowers and fruits are always fit presents; flowers, because they are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty outvalues all the utilities of the world. These gay natures contrast with the somewhat stern countenance of ordinary nature: they are like music heard out of a workhouse. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (Gifts)
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
Back in February there was a discussion in the comments here about how nurseries in northern climates don’t open until it’s safe to start planting outdoors in the spring. For the first time in ages, this got me thinking about an exception to that rule, Logee’s, and I was delighted to find out that they are still open year round!
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
The flower is the poetry of reproduction. It is an example of the eternal seductiveness of life. ~ Jean Giraudoux (The Enchanted)
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
Tim & I made a trip up there on Saturday and the place was still a perfect antidote to the cabin fever which has been plaguing us. Several linked greenhouses are stuffed from floor to ceiling with colorful, bright and cheerful tropical flowers! The aisles were so narrow that two people could not pass by each other or keep from brushing against some of the plants.
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
Permission to take pictures was granted and I had a wonderful time shooting right and left, above and below, and at eye-level. An employee was on a step ladder picking fruit from an orange tree, answering questions while he worked. The stifling heat and humidity was a welcome change from the bitter and bone dry air outside.
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers. ~ Claude Monet (The Fantasy of Flowers)
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
I came home with two impulse purchases, a climbing onion and a white Easter cactus. We’ll see how well I care for them. After a nice lunch at the Vanilla Bean Café, we went to see a movie, The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, and enjoyed it very much.
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
Each flower is a soul opening out to nature. ~ Gerard de Nerval (The Fantasy of Flowers)
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
We noticed on the way home that the temperature outside had crept up to above freezing, just a smidgen! It’s time for the mounds of snow to start melting!
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
What a nice day after being housebound for so long!
3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
To analyze the charms of flowers is like dissecting music; it is one of those things which it is far better to enjoy, than to attempt to fully understand. ~ Henry T. Tuckerman (The Fantasy of Flowers)
Dominic (left) and Julius (right), with their adored Uncle Nate (center) photo by Shannon Rodgers
If a child is to keep alive his inborn sense of wonder … he needs the companionship of at least one adult who can share it, rediscovering with him the joy, excitement and mystery of the world we live in. ~ Rachel Carson (The Sense of Wonder)
Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns – Adds poignancy to Winter – The shivery Fancy turns
To a fictitious Country To palliate a Cold – Not obviated of Degree – Nor eased – of Latitude –
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #551)
2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
The Mayflower II (above) is at Mystic Seaport for restoration. This replica of the original Mayflower was constructed in England and launched in 1956. Her home port is Plimoth Plantation in Massachusetts.
some parts in the middle of the Mystic River were free of ice
Elm Grove Cemetery ~ 2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
You mustn’t rush about in endless rings but learn to love the nearest things. ~ Arne Paasche Aasen (The Ways of Water)
2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
Not all the lanes were plowed in Elm Grove Cemetery so we couldn’t get to the graves of my White ancestors, but the cemetery was full of interesting snow drifts and shadows, and views of the snow and ice covered river.
ice blanketed in snow ~ 2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
2.16.15 ~ Mystic, Connecticut
You must rejoice in life every day; don’t wait until the moment has passed you by before acknowledging what a good time it really was! Don’t pin your hopes on the happiness of days to come. The older one gets, the more one realizes that the ability to savor the moment is a state of grace, a glorious gift… ~ Marie Curie (Seasons)
How lovely trees are. The human species grew up in and around them. We have a natural affinity for trees. … We human beings don’t look very much like a tree. We certainly view the world differently than a tree does. But down deep, at the molecular heart of life we’re essentially identical to trees. ~ Carl Sagan (Cosmos)
When a man plants a tree, he plants himself. Every root is an anchor, over which he rests with grateful interest, and becomes sufficiently calm to feel the joy of living. ~ John Muir (Steep Trails)
A tree is a self: it is unseen shaping more than it is leaves or bark, roots or cellulose or fruit. … We can not point to anything physical and say, “There is the self!” This holds for the tree’s activity as well as for the human’s. What it means is that we must address trees. We must address all things, confronting them in the awareness that we are in the presence of numinous mystery. Who shapes the tree? Who shapes my thoughts? We are in the mystery of the self. ~ Brian Swimme (The Universe Is a Green Dragon: A Cosmic Creation Story)
Our new little granddaughter arrived yesterday morning! I am still thrilled to pieces that I got to be there when she was born. 7 lbs, 12.5 oz., 20 inches long. Cute as a button, large bright hazel eyes, her mother’s long eye lashes, her father’s long toes, and a head full of hair. Full of curiosity. I had a chance to hold her, too. Mother and baby are doing well.
A few days ago my laptop broke and I have no way of sending pictures from my camera to the computer. Sigh. But when things settle down and the computer wizards have a chance to fix this I will definitely post some pictures!
