As some of you may know, all is not well here. I've been reminded to keep in touch; here's tonight's attempt: some photos from recent outings, and a poem that's been on my mind for the last month or so.
This first group is from The House on the Rock.
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they looked like former fish, but were just a little sluggish in the cold |
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The scenery really is breathtaking |
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Some of the effects are...somewhat overdone... |
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My interior pictures leave a lot to be desired--there is no sense of scale in that place, and the heat and noise and people...good lord. But this one expresses some of my feelings about it. |
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I did love the lizard-ish things on the giant planters outside. Would've happily brought one home, were it possible to do so. |
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Another of the lizards |
Late summer and early fall are the best time of year to live along the river. In the morning, on my way to work, it's all I can do to actually go to the office--when the alternative would be to wander along, testing my photographic skills, or even just looking.
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Maybe the best sunlit photo I've ever taken |
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The texture of the water and the trees on the island |
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Ideal fall colors |
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One of the trees in the previous photo |
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Earlier this week - a barge heading east through the breaking fog |
My letters! all dead paper,...mute and white! --
And yet they seem alive and quivering
Against my tremulous hands which loose the string
And let them drop down on my knee to-night.
This said,...he wished to have me in his sight
Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring
To come and touch my hand...a simple thing,
Yet I wept for it! -- this,...the paper's light...
Said, Dear, I love thee; and I sank and quailed
As if God's future thundered on my past.
This said, I am thine -- and so its ink has paled
With lying at my heart that beat too fast.
And this...O Love, thy words have ill availed,
If, what this said, I dared repeat at last!
[Elizabeth Barrett Browning, XXVII from 'Sonnets from the Portuguese'--in Poems that Make Grown Women Cry, Anthony Holden and Ben Holden, eds. & comp.]
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