Season of ripening fruit and seeds, depart; There is no harvest ripening in the heart.
Bring the frost that strikes the dahlias down In one cruel night. The blackened buds, the brown And wilted heads, the crippled stems, we crave – All beauty withered, crumbling to the grave. Wind, strip off the leaves, and harden, ground, Till in your frozen crust no break is found.
Then only, when man’s inner world is one With barren earth and branches bared to bone, Then only can the heart begin to now The seeds of hope asleep beneath the snow; Then only can the chastened spirit tap The hidden faith still pulsing in the sap.
Only with winter-patience can we bring The deep-desired long-awaited spring. ~Anne Morrow Lindbergh “No Harvest Ripening”
Under its canopy, in the shade it casts, turns a world with painted horses, all from a land that lingers a while before it disappears. Some, it’s true, are harnessed to a wagon, but all have valor in their eyes. A fierce red lion leaps among them, and here comes ’round a snow-white elephant.
Even a stag appears, straight from the forest, except for the saddle he wears, and, buckled on it, a small boy in blue.
And a boy in white rides the lion, gripping it with small clenched hands, while the lion flashes teeth and tongue.
And here comes ’round a snow-white elephant.
And riding past on charging horses come girls, bright-eyed, almost too old now for this children’s play. With the horses rising under them, they are looking up and off to what awaits. ~Rainer Maria Rilke from “Jardin de Luxembourg”
As a child, I could not resist a ride on a carousel, waving each time I came round. As an adult, I can not resist watching a carousel, waving back.
It is a world that turns and turns without going anywhere, except in the imaginations of the riders who fly higher, leap farther, jump huge gaps, race fastest. It becomes a world that goes anywhere and everywhere. The swirl of surroundings and magic of music raises each child up, up, speeding faster and faster to catch whatever may await them. Then the world slows, settling and settling until each waving child becomes the stationary waving adult who stands their ground fast faithfully waiting — remembering how going round and round without going anywhere was the most wonderful feeling in the ever turning world.
You don’t really understand human nature unless you know why a child on a merry-go-round will wave at his parents every time around – and why his parents will always wave back.
~William D. Tammeus
Who would have thought it possible that a tiny little flower could preoccupy a person so completely that there simply wasn’t room for any other thought.
~ Sophie Scholl
This time of year I can’t seem to form any other thoughts beyond appreciation for the beauty on each stem and the fragrance that wafts from heliotrope and roses through an open window. I might just fall head-long into the dark center of a flower like Alice into the rabbit hole and not find my way back.