Deep sleep, anesthesia, and death are temporary. So-called matter or energy continues endlessly. Consciousness always wakes up again. ~ Joan Tollifson (Painting the Sidewalk with Water)
There are no footprints on the sea and no road-signs, not a single guard-stone or post, and no bends, only paths of light and dark from which to choose, the choice is always a difficult navigation and the storm’s wingspan immeasurable as the depths and the horizon, but the sea holds you in its mighty hand your life is a sea-blue tale of love and death. ~ Åse-Marie Nesse (At Sea)
part of sprinkler system at Logee’s 3.7.15 ~ Danielson, Connecticut
We humans have experimented with various social systems; some have endured and others not. I believe, however, that our well-being is tied not so much to the structure of our society and the politics that determine it, as to our ability to maintain contact with nature, to feel that we are part of the natural order and that we are capable of making a living within it. ~ Bernd Heinrich (The Snoring Bird: My Family’s Journey Through a Century of Biology)
Many said that now there was no hope of salvation, for a man might do anything and be in the wrong. There was no way to tell. It was better to stay on the steading and mind the cows and be content with such days as are left to one and cease to wonder about life everlasting. ~ Jane Smiley (The Greenlanders)
Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning; that there is always another dawn risen on mid-noon, and under every deep a lower deep opens. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson (Circles)
The Drop, that wrestles in the Sea – Forgets her own locality As I, in Thee –
She knows herself an incense small – Yet small, she sighs, if all, is all, How larger – be?
The Ocean, smiles at her conceit – But she, forgetting Amphitrite – Pleads “Me”?
~ Emily Dickinson (The Poems of Emily Dickinson, #255)
I’m saying open up And let the rain come pouring in Wash out this tired notion That the best is yet to come But while you’re dancing on the ground Don’t think of when you’re gone ~ Dave Matthews ♫ (Pig) ♫
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)