a life incredible, vivid, excellent.
I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says, ‘Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.’
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“Is the spring coming?” he said. “What is it like?”…
“It is the sun shining on the rain and the rain falling on the sunshine…”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden
“Oh, look how beautiful the sun is shining through the trees!” I said, drunk on the last golden light of evening glowing through the golden leaves of the ginko trees.
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I love spring anywhere, but if I could choose I would always greet it in a garden. — Ruth Stout It was one of those March days when the sun shines hot and the wind blows cold: when it is summer in the light, and winter in the shade. — Charles Dickens In the…
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Fear no more the heat o’ the sun, Nor the furious winter’s rages; Thou thy worldly task hast done, Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages: Golden lads and girls all must, As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. Fear no more the frown o’ the great; Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke; Care no more to…
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There is a willow grows aslant a brook,
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream;
There with fantastic garlands did she come
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long purples
after completing messes of men, the first part of my photography project inspired by mewithoutYou’s brother, sister, cranking the second part out was surprisingly easy. as part of this shoot i learned about betta fish and discovered just how many things cockle burrs can latch onto. [and how cold 40-degree weather can be — thanks…
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i’ve talked before about my love for mewithoutYou’s album brother, sister, and my desire to “illustrate” it, so to speak, through photography and other media. a desire four or five years in the making finally got off the ground last march when i did two shoots based on “messes of men,” the first song on…
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Joy is not naivete. To be innocent is not to be ignorant. To rejoice in hope is to be a light in the darkness.
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What if you could step out of your normal everyday life for a hour or two and into the midst of an adventure particular to you?
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from outside my window
i can hear a single mourning dove’s melancholy coo
while the June wind whips the branches of the oak tree
who are we
in the space in between?
thus has may begun
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o God of yeast o God of golden butter
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these flaming things
lovely
trembling delicacy
the book of sorrows
ordinary confessions, lamentations
courage, dear heart
a rustle, a roar
branches sway, cottonwood leaves
shimmer in the wind
the apple tree is now
only a shattered trunk
rotting away by the roadside
lavender lilacs
have bloomed, blown, fallen to earth
now nourishing soil
smell the white lilacs
their heads heavy with raindrops
drink them in, and in
