As You Like It, Act II, Scene VII [Blow, blow, thou winter wind]
(William Shakespeare)
Blow, blow, thou winter wind,
Thou art not so unkind
As man's ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen,
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing, heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho, the holly!
This life is most jolly.
Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,
That does not bite so nigh
As benefits forgot:
Though thou the waters warp,
Thy sting is not so sharp
As friend remembered not.
Heigh-ho! sing . . .
Friday, December 21, 2012
"Blow, blow, thou winter wind ... "
Sunday, December 9, 2012
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Leaf in Ice #1
Via Flickr:
- Keefer Lake, Ontario, Canada -
On a forest walkabout with the dogs a few days ago I came across a frozen swamp that proved to be a photographer's delight. There was an infinite variety of intriguing patterns in the ice and an uncountable number of leaves frozen in various patterns accompanied by subtle natural colours that set them off as if on display in a grand gallery. I shall post over the course of the coming week only a few of the dozens of images that I 'harvested' that day.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Thursday, October 25, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
"Little Bastards of Vine"
Cherry Tomatoes
Little bastards of vine.
Little demons by the pint.
Red eggs that never hatch,
just collapse and rot. When
my mom told me to gather
their grubby bodies
into my skirt, I'd cry. You
and your father, she'd chide—
the way, each time I kicked
and wailed against sailing,
my dad shook his head, said
You and your mother.
Now, a city girl, I ease one
loose from its siblings,
from its clear plastic coffin,
place it on my tongue.
Just to try. The smooth
surface resists, resists,
and erupts in my mouth:
seeds, juice, acid, blood
of a perfect household.
The way, when I finally
went sailing, my stomach
was rocked from inside
out. Little boat, big sea.
Handful of skinned sunsets.
(by Sandra Beasley)
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
"Child of the Olive"
"Child of the Olive", originally uploaded by Canadapt.
Ode To Tomatoes by Pablo Neruda
The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Friday, August 24, 2012
Saturday, August 18, 2012
For Elsa and António
- Sintra, Portugal -
I am in great debt to António and Elsa for all they have done to support my lady Rosa and her mother in the past weeks. Thank you!
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Sunday, July 1, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Thursday, April 19, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Sunday, March 25, 2012
To see a world ...
Auguries of Innocence (William Blake)
To see a world in a grain of sand,
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.
Happy World Poetry Day!
MJH
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Genesis ...
- Praia Grande, Portugal -
Our niece, Terri-Lynn contemplating her Portuguese heritage ... it was her first visit to her Mother's homeland. Both her Mother and her brother and his lady were with us on this visit.
I normally don't do much processing to my photos but knowing the context I felt this one deserved a bit of an ethereal touch. I hope I succeeded in capturing a bit of the importance and mood of the moment?
Friday, February 24, 2012
Sunday, February 19, 2012
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