Today I woke up to the most magical site. A city covered in a blanket of snow with even more gently falling all around. As I was walking to work I captured a few shots on my iphone- hope to add a few later! In the meantime, hope you enjoy these ones alongside one of my favorite poems. I seriously cannot walk through the snow without reciting it to myself. (thanks mom!)
No, not the awful TV show.
I’m sure everyone has reminded you, but I hope that everyone reading this chooses to vote today. I also hope that no matter who you vote for- you vote for the candidate that is most right for YOU. It’s easy to get caught up in trends on twitter, celebrity endorsements, things your friends say, what your parents tell you, but remember that your vote is YOURS. At the end of the day, your candidate may not win, but you will have at least stood up for what YOU believe in.
by Shel Silverstein
and if you don’t know where your polling place is- Google has you covered with this neat feature.
… but every now and then, a little rain can be a beautiful thing. It certainly makes for some pretty city photography:
“Rain in Summer”
How beautiful is the rain!
After the dust and heat,
In the broad and fiery street,
In the narrow lane,
How beautiful is the rain!
How it clatters along the roofs,
Like the tramp of hoofs
How it gushes and struggles out
From the throat of the overflowing spout!
Across the window-pane
It pours and pours;
And swift and wide,
With a muddy tide,
Like a river down the gutter roars
The rain, the welcome rain!
The sick man from his chamber looks
At the twisted brooks;
He can feel the cool
Breath of each little pool;
His fevered brain
Grows calm again,
And he breathes a blessing on the rain.
From the neighboring school
Come the boys,
With more than their wonted noise
And down the wet streets
Sail their mimic fleets,
Till the treacherous pool
Ingulfs them in its whirling
And turbulent ocean.
In the country, on every side,
Where far and wide,
Like a leopard’s tawny and spotted hide,
Stretches the plain,
To the dry grass and the drier grain
How welcome is the rain!
In the furrowed land
The toilsome and patient oxen stand;
Lifting the yoke encumbered head,
With their dilated nostrils spread,
They silently inhale
The clover-scented gale,
And the vapors that arise
From the well-watered and smoking soil.
For this rest in the furrow after toil
Their large and lustrous eyes
Seem to thank the Lord,
More than man’s spoken word.
Near at hand,
From under the sheltering trees,
The farmer sees
His pastures, and his fields of grain,
As they bend their tops
To the numberless beating drops
Of the incessant rain.
He counts it as no sin
That he sees therein
Only his own thrift and gain.
These, and far more than these,
The Poet sees!
He can behold
Walking the fenceless fields of air;
And from each ample fold
Of the clouds about him rolled
The showery rain,
As the farmer scatters his grain.
He can behold
That have not yet been wholly told,–
Have not been wholly sung nor said.
For his thought, that never stops,
Follows the water-drops
Down to the graves of the dead,
Down through chasms and gulfs profound,
To the dreary fountain-head
Of lakes and rivers under ground;
And sees them, when the rain is done,
On the bridge of colors seven
Climbing up once more to heaven,
Opposite the setting sun.
Thus the Seer,
With vision clear,
Sees forms appear and disappear,
In the perpetual round of strange,
From birth to death, from death to birth,
From earth to heaven, from heaven to earth;
Till glimpses more sublime
Of things, unseen before,
Unto his wondering eyes reveal
The Universe, as an immeasurable wheel
In the rapid and rushing river of Time.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Happy 2012! I hope that everyone had a fabulous 2011, and is excited about the new year!
This week I will be featuring my new years resolutions for a more beautiful and stylish life and how I intend to achieve them. The new year is all about moving forward and reinventing yourself- a fresh start to move your life in a new direction, find new frontiers, and plunge into the unknown.
There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.
Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.
Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.
Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein
My soul is full of longing
For the secret of the sea,
And the heart of the great ocean
Sends a thrilling pulse through me.
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I have only been diving for two years but I can’t imagine life without it. To go beneath the waves of the ocean and experience this beautiful secret world is a meditative yet mind blowing experience. The beautiful coral, the colorful fish, the sounds of the bubbles and the way that the sun reflects and scatters through the water to light your way- it is something magical that words can’t describe. So since a picture’s worth a thousand words, here are a few images from our most recent trip to Grand Cayman.
Have a fun weekend!