Fall leaves used to dye an old silk top that I never liked. The silk looks more beautiful now, cut into pieces soaked up colour from nature. I stitched a piece into my personal journal. The paper holds, a small surprise. Aren’t these leaves the most beautiful thing on earth right now?
It took me a remarkably long time to understand the truth of this statement. The owl does look extremely indignant, poor creature. I would be, too, were I in his place. (Oh wait, I have been, in my own way. My reaction was not nearly as dignified.)
This jewel came off Freethinkers Club’s page on Facebook, so I’m afraid I cannot ascribe the image to its rightful owner.
Rose is a rose is a rose is a rose
Pages ages page ages page ages.
(Gertrude Stein, 1913)
My lovely heirloom tea rose is blooming. Every year I am reminded what roses are supposed to smell like – nothing like the vapid non-scent produced by most greenhouse-grown modern varieties.
The complete poem, by the way, is totally weird. Just so you know 😉