Wednesday, December 18, 2024

Mystery


Of course, what I'm left wondering is how they attach these shells to the wreath. I assume it's by way of some tiny wires. But, if so, then they are p-r-e-t-t-y well hidden.

Tuesday, December 17, 2024

Autumnal Sun


Lately, I've been intrigued by the shadows cast by our late autumnal sun.

I am the autumnal sun,
With autumn gales my race is run;
When will the hazel put forth its flowers,
Or the grape ripen under my bowers?
When will the harvest or the hunter's moon
Turn my midnight into mid-noon?
I am all sere and yellow,
And to my core mellow.
The mast is dropping within my woods,
The winter is lurking within my moods,
And the rustling of the withered leaf
Is the constant music of my grief…

~ Henry David Thoreau

Monday, December 16, 2024