Each of these images might be worth a post, but I don't know what I would say that the image doesn't already convey. Perhaps a small poem ... feel free to conjure up a few words. Distill the idea to its essence. Trust your instincts. Share them in a comment if you will...
Beautiful as always, Teresa. don't think there are words ... just thoughts of satisfaction, joy, wonder and peace. nary a picture that isn't relatable.
ReplyDeletehaa... how many people nowadays would remember that phone. My Dad had his on his desk until he died and it is still there ... my brother lives in the house now. looks exactly like that one.
and no I can't write poetry ~ barely can read one. I don't know why. I really have a problem reading poetry... always have. I remember Edgar Allan Poe's poems ... Annabelle Lee... and The Raven...
well, isn't that interesting. never know what I will or won't remember. We had a lot of required reading but I remember him and Trees. I think I shall never see a poem as lovely as a tree... Joyce Kilmer!
I do read and mainly look at your blog ~ it's relaxing and try my best to read the poems. maybe it's a lack of focus thing. new label for such is ADD .. I just always knew I had the attention span of a gnat...
I kinda apologize for the long comment but I just wanted to write this... I want you to know I enjoy your blog … same thing with Grethe's blog. so beautiful
Well, as they say " A picture is worth a thousand words," and they are so right. So often, images do convey more than words ever could. I'm so glad you left a comment, Carolyn. Thank you. You might want to check out my micro-poetry blog which is at a link on my sidebar. Very short. :)
DeleteThe little owl,
ReplyDeletecaught in a snow storm...
Is praying.
farmlady, yes that was my impression. Thank you for sharing it!
DeletePoetry is what I felt with all these images. No words necessary. Thank you.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Cait. It's amazing what emotions can be held inside an image as we view it.
DeleteOh, what beauty! I love each and every one of them, and I have to agree with the poem above written about the owl. I don't think I have any poetry in me, but I enjoyed each one of these pictures immensely. Thank you, Teresa. :-)
ReplyDeleteSometimes, the poetry is in the viewing... :) Thanks, DJan.
DeleteThe house beneath the lovely owl is an Edgar Allan Poe poem! For sure! Each image is a poem. But I won't try.
ReplyDeleteLovely photos.The atmosphere at the hedge with barbed wire and the fog. I know how it is to walk along that hedge in an early morning. I can feel the cold through my clothes.
Grethe ´)
Hi Grethe! That house does have a bit of Poe to it. Good observation. I am particularly drawn to that fence with the mist also. It really does evoke a feeling. So nice to hear from you!
DeleteWhat an exquisite post, Teresa. Your pictures! Oh my! Each one evokes a sense of place, a mood, atmosphere, despair and hope. Poetry comes in all kinds of packages, doesn't it?
ReplyDeleteOkay. Here's a silly package made up right now, just for some quick fun.
Queen Anne came calling in her tat-a-bout lace
To pay homage to Victoria's grand, old place,
With clouds that swirled in an eddy of foam
Making Anne wonder if this was still Victoria's home,
As the crows met up for an afternoon tea
Penny sat thinking "what's wrong with me"
Composing a sing song poem today,
When I should be reaping what I've sown today?
Penny, That's super! I love it, and you really captured a moment of thought, an idea. Thank you for sharing it!
DeleteIt's such a wonderful collection of images.
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing.
There are some beautiful photos out there, each with a story to tell. Thanks, John.
DeleteNo words are necessary. Each image tells a story out of memories and the story is different for each viewer.
ReplyDeleteYes, the beauty of perception and life experiences. Thank you!
DeleteI love the header pic. Road to the light. 'Along the cool, sequestered vale of life.....'
ReplyDeleteYes, "They kept the noiseless tenor of their way..." Thank you so much. Good to hear from you ... always.
DeleteStretching out their barbed arms
ReplyDeleteThe cedar posts stand like sentries.
Felled, shaped and planted long ago,
Testimonies to the labor of a now-forgotten man.
You may pass, they tell the rabbits and the deer.
But to the cattle, halt! they command.
The place beyond is not for you.
"The labor of a now-forgotten man.." That is a very poignant phrase to describe the work that is done with one's hands and then it's gone. I think fences represent so much, including the hours given to providing security to the creatures in our care. Thank you so much, Bill, for this lovely contribution to the post.
DeleteYou've given us a season of ordinary days. In a society devoted to the search for the extraordinary, this collection is as restful - and hopeful - as anything could be.
ReplyDeleteLinda, What a beautiful way to describe this collection of photos. Thank you so much. Your writing is always exquisite.
DeleteLet the sky with it cynical greyish smile be
ReplyDeleteAnd snowy canvass on the ground melt away
For the light yonder is still bright
And this path shall take me to eternity
Each second passes into the past
And the needle moves at the same speed,
Leaving the phone feeling so lonely and dejected
For days pass by with no familiar voice heard.
Turbulence without makes me shiver in cold
But my feather coats me well from it
Turbulence within will kills me many times
Within I turn for stillness spoken by the sages.
The painter’s brush invincible and invisible
Serenity hidden amidst the blurry dusk
In desolation a house pining for occupants
The flowers signal of some hope coming along.
I am busy, time I have not on my side
I undone my shirt and threw it away
But on the loyal chair it finds solace
A resting place for many crumpled souls.
There is in this life, beyond this, a dead world lives
Parallel to the living one that we have with us
The other side in danger and sickness it always lurk
Separated by perimeters, this life we will walk peacefully.
Most often than not, time tells of many woes and pain
In rusty scenes of life, miseries always find representation
Yet, to tell much that life is not just about tear and wear and rust
Life creeps over the pain with freshness in hope and colours.
Many hands from the days gone by this is made of
Dripping sweat kissed the bricks and ground below
Each carries a signature of human touch and hard works
And this night, the moon marvels at the might of man.
I have some favorite lines among these wonderful poems:
Delete"the sky with its cynical grayish smile"
"the needle moves at the same speed"
"turbulence within will kill me many times"
"in desolation a house pining..."
"on the loyal chair it finds solace"
"parallel to the living one we have with us"
"in rusty scenes of life"
"sweat kissed the bricks and ground below"
Thank you so much for these poems in response.
The photo with the clock and old telephone really caught my eye. Sense of time and things long since passed. Evokes memories and wishes from the past.
ReplyDeleteBill, That is my favorite among them as well. It really evokes a strong feeling...
DeleteWinter sunrise...the hope of light, without the comfort of warmth.
ReplyDeleteOur well-worn fence will hold what it can...but it will not keep winter at bay.
Silos framing the full moon...their textures grabbing my attention...their shapes reminding me of another pair of towers, ill-fated.
Nancy, I had not thought of the towers in that photo. What a striking observation. Thank you so much for your insights here. What else should we expect from someone who beat Bob Dylan in a talent contest? :))
DeleteAn audience participation blog posting. I like it.
ReplyDelete" Ma and I have lived on the land for more than fifty years. We worked hard. Raised a fine large family. We made enough money to get by. Mother Nature and God blessed us, cursed us, but always provided. This is home. This is our prosperity.
"This is our prosperity." I have to admit to choking up a bit as I finished reading this... Thank you, Steven.
DeleteI have seen that "prosperity look" in the eyes of hundreds of farm couples. I must admit I have never heard them say the word "prosperity," but their looks, comments, deeds and actions can only lead to one conclusion. Most certainly that fabric still lives in rural America and beyond. Those who work the Land never take prosperity for granted. Their heritage is in the past, present, and future.
ReplyDeleteYour post took my mind and spirit back in time. Thank You Teresa!
I like the idea of the eyes of a farm couple saying so much, and I loved your use of the word prosperity. It was perfect for the context. Just perfect.
DeleteI love your thought about their heritage ... another deep truth.
I'm glad you liked the post. You are most welcome. Thank you for another beautiful comment.
The shirt hanging over the chair spells life, love, home, comfort, and more. Wonderful photos! ~~ barbara
ReplyDeleteYes. I love that you saw those things in that simple image. Life is at its best when its simple. I hope your move is going well.
Delete