The Lodge at Mio

Spring Comes on the World

by Emily Dickinson

Spring comes on the World -

I sight the Aprils -

Hueless to me until thou come

As, till the Bee

Blossoms stand negative,

Toughed to Conditions

By a Hum.

"Sometimes With the Heart"

Sometimes with the Heart
by Emily Dickinson


Sometimes with the Heart
Seldom with the Soul
Scarcer once with the Might
Few -- love at all.

"There Is Another Sky"

There is another Sky

by Emily Dickinson

There is another sky,

Ever serene and fair,

And there is another sunshine,

Though it be darkness there;

Never mind faded forests, Austin,

Never mind silent fields -

Here is a little forest,

Whose leaf is ever green;

Here is a brighter garden,

Where not a frost has been;

In its unfading flowers

I hear the bright bee hum:

Prithee, my brother,

Into my garden come!

"A Cloud Withdrew From the Sky"

A Cloud Withdrew from the Sky


A Cloud withdrew from the Sky
Superior Glory be
But that Cloud and its Auxiliaries
Are forever lost to me

Had I but further scanned
Had I secured the Glow
In an Hermetic Memory
It had availed me now.

Never to pass the Angel
With a glance and a Bow
Till I am firm in Heaven
Is my intention now.                         

By Emily Dickinson

"Love Is Just A Cloudy Sky"

 
Cloudy Sky


The Moon she is a pretty girl who lives up in the stars
And that old cloud he's a great old man who loves her from afar
He loves her from afar
When Lady Moon smiles down on him ol' Cloud is all a-wonder
So he starts to sing to her and that's what makes the thunder
Can't ya listen baby that's what makes the thunder
Love is just a cloudy sky as far as I can see
And that ol' cloud up in the sky he got much chance in love as me
And some dry nights she won't come out when she hears him callin'
The tears come streamin' on down his cheeks and that's the rain a fallin'
Don't ya feel it baby hat's the rain a fallin'
Love is just a cloudy sky as far as I can see
And that ol' cloud up in the sky's got as much a chance in love as me
And when the night starts to gettin' light and he can see her goin'
He throws a kiss across the sky and that's the wind a blowin',
Can't ya feel it honey that's the wind a blowin'
Oh love is just a cloudy sky as far as I can see
And that ol' cloud up in the sky he's got as much a chance as me
He got as much a chance as me 
Poem by Shel Silverstein

Clouds Floating in the Water

Clouds came down to Earth today.  The waters of Pellicer Creek was a reflection of the dark cloudy sky.  If it were not for the greenery against the background, one would not know where the sky was, looking up or looking down.  Clouds floated in the water and moved with the wind.  As Alice Through the Looking Glass, the world can be upside down.

Sky on Fire



I don't believe Hollywood can come up with a more frightening skyline then mother nature.

Blowing in the Wind

I love red barns against a endless cloudy horizon.  It was a very windy day and the tall grass blowing in the wind framed this picture.  I can look at this image and still feel the wind challenging me standing in the grass with my hair and unsteady hands 'blowing in the wind."

Blowing in the Wind
By Bob Dylan 1962

How many roads must a man walk down
Before they call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
How many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind.
How many years must a mountain exist
Before it is washed to the sea?
How many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
How many times can a man turn his head
and pretend that he just doesn't see?
The answer, my friend, is blowing in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind.

Field of Clouds

A field of clouds before and during a storm in small village of Cass City, Michigan.

 

Cloudy Day Waterton Lakes

 

 

 House of Clouds

By Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I would build a cloudy House
For my thoughts to live in;
When for earth too fancy-loose
And too low for Heaven!
Hush! I talk my dream aloud---
I build it bright to see,---
I build it on the moonlit cloud,
To which I looked with thee.

Cloud-walls of the morning's grey,
Faced with amber column,---
Crowned with crimson cupola
From a sunset solemn!
May mists, for the casements, fetch,
Pale and glimmering;
With a sunbeam hid in each,
And a smell of spring.

Palatka Country

The focal point for me is the magnitude of the cloud formation over the small farm house in the first photo.  The clouds were traveling fast, crossed the highway, separated and formed a circular pattern that could have swallowed the entire farm and surrounding fields. 

“Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.”
― Rabindranath Tagore, Stray Birds    

Through the Looking Glass: Clouds and Light

Surfside Beach

I don't know how many times I drove past Surfside Beach and ignored the park sign.  You wink and you will miss it.  It is a small park located on A1A north of Vilano Beach.  An old run down motel is adjacent to it.  The motel must have been build in the forties and is the coastal stereotype you run across driving along southern beaches.  Most of them have been torn down and replaced with resorts.

Pavilion of Heaven

 

I took this picture on a morning walk at Surfside Beach.  It was a cloudy day and the sun rays were breaking through the storm clouds.

'Daughter of Earth and Water' River Guana

The Cloud

by Percy Bysshe Shelley 1792-1822

 I bring fresh showers for the thirsting flowers,

         From the seas and the streams;

I bear light shade for the leaves when laid

         In their noonday dreams.

From my wings are shaken the dews that waken

         The sweet buds every one,

When rocked to rest on their mother's breast,

         As she dances about the sun.

I wield the flail of the lashing hail,

         And whiten the green plains under,

And then again I dissolve it in rain,

         And laugh as I pass in thunder.

   I sift the snow on the mountains below,

         And their great pines groan aghast;

And all the night 'tis my pillow white,

         While I sleep in the arms of the blast.

Sublime on the towers of my skiey bowers,

         Lightning my pilot sits;

In a cavern under is fettered the thunder,

         It struggles and howls at fits;

Over earth and ocean, with gentle motion,

         This pilot is guiding me,

Lured by the love of the genii that move

         In the depths of the purple sea;

Over the rills, and the crags, and the hills,

         Over the lakes and the plains,

Wherever he dream, under mountain or stream,

         The Spirit he loves remains;

And I all the while bask in Heaven's blue smile,

         Whilst he is dissolving in rains.

   The sanguine Sunrise, with his meteor eyes,

         And his burning plumes outspread,

Leaps on the back of my sailing rack,

         When the morning star shines dead;

As on the jag of a mountain crag,

         Which an earthquake rocks and swings,

An eagle alit one moment may sit

         In the light of its golden wings.

And when Sunset may breathe, from the lit sea beneath,

         Its ardours of rest and of love,

And the crimson pall of eve may fall

         From the depth of Heaven above,

With wings folded I rest, on mine aëry nest,

         As still as a brooding dove.

   That orbèd maiden with white fire laden,

         Whom mortals call the Moon,

Glides glimmering o'er my fleece-like floor,

         By the midnight breezes strewn;

And wherever the beat of her unseen feet,

         Which only the angels hear,

May have broken the woof of my tent's thin roof,

         The stars peep behind her and peer;

And I laugh to see them whirl and flee,

         Like a swarm of golden bees,

When I widen the rent in my wind-built tent,

         Till calm the rivers, lakes, and seas,

Like strips of the sky fallen through me on high,

         Are each paved with the moon and these.

   I bind the Sun's throne with a burning zone,

         And the Moon's with a girdle of pearl;

The volcanoes are dim, and the stars reel and swim,

         When the whirlwinds my banner unfurl.

From cape to cape, with a bridge-like shape,

         Over a torrent sea,

Sunbeam-proof, I hang like a roof,

         The mountains its columns be.

The triumphal arch through which I march

         With hurricane, fire, and snow,

When the Powers of the air are chained to my chair,

         Is the million-coloured bow;

The sphere-fire above its soft colours wove,

         While the moist Earth was laughing below.

   I am the daughter of Earth and Water,

         And the nursling of the Sky;

I pass through the pores of the ocean and shores;

         I change, but I cannot die.

For after the rain when with never a stain

         The pavilion of Heaven is bare,

And the winds and sunbeams with their convex gleams

         Build up the blue dome of air,

I silently laugh at my own cenotaph,

         And out of the caverns of rain,

Like a child from the womb, like a ghost from the tomb,

         I arise and unbuild it again.

 

The Sun Peeking at Crescent Beach

The sky was too cloudy to allow the sun to rise brightly on this particular morning.  It created interesting cloud and sky formations in the struggle of the sun peeking through the dense clouds.

Mt. Taranaki Rising Above the Clouds

 

 

 

 

 We visited Egmont National Park and hiked the Summit Track on Mt. Taranaki until we were in the clouds and could see at cloud level New Plymouth below.  As typical, it was a rainy and misty day and Mt. Taranaki was surrounded by rain clouds. I think all the mountains in the North Island should be called Misty Mountains Cold because that was what we endeared with every hike.

"Farewell we call to hearth and hall!
Though wind may blow and rain may fall,
We must away, ere break of day
Far over the wood and mountain tall."

Excerpt from The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

"Thunderclouds of Love" Sunset

Not all sunsets are brilliant colors of red and pink streaks in the sky.  There was a thunder storm everyday I was in the Rocky Mountains. I love being caught on the trails and getting soaking wet!  The temperature dropped drastically when the sun is covered with dark clouds.  These are photos of the sun setting over Columbine Lake. There is a bluegrass song entitled "Thunderclouds of love." 

Thunderclouds of love

 Your love hit me just like a flash of lightning
It came pouring from the thunder clouds of love
At first the turn of love was frightening
Now I know that it was sent from God above
I had been prayin' for nights on end
For some one who could make me laugh again
Then all at once from the darkness of my heart
There grew a light, the light was you love, fell like rain
No more, no more will I ever be lonely
I'll always have you here with me to love
An angel sent for an angel coming
To fill my heart with thunder clouds of love

"A Song to Myself: 35" by Walt Whitman

These pictures were taken at the Washington Oaks State Park and Beach.  It had been raining for 3 days and Matanzas River was high and winds were still strong. 

Song of Myself: 35

By Walt Whitman 1819–1892
 

Would you hear of an old-time sea-fight?

Would you learn who won by the light of the moon and stars?

List to the yarn, as my grandmother’s father the sailor told it to me.

 

Our foe was no skulk in his ship I tell you, (said he,)

His was the surly English pluck, and there is no tougher or truer, and never was, and never will be;

Along the lower’d eve he came horribly raking us.

 

We closed with him, the yards entangled, the cannon touch’d,

My captain lash’d fast with his own hands.

 

We had receiv’d some eighteen pound shots under the water,

On our lower-gun-deck two large pieces had burst at the first fire, killing all around and blowing up overhead.

 

Fighting at sun-down, fighting at dark,

Ten o’clock at night, the full moon well up, our leaks on the gain, and five feet of water reported,

The master-at-arms loosing the prisoners confined in the after-hold to give them a chance for themselves.

 

The transit to and from the magazine is now stopt by the sentinels,

They see so many strange faces they do not know whom to trust.

 

Our frigate takes fire,

The other asks if we demand quarter?

If our colors are struck and the fighting done?

 

Now I laugh content, for I hear the voice of my little captain,

We have not struck, he composedly cries, we have just begun our part of the fighting.

 

Only three guns are in use,

One is directed by the captain himself against the enemy’s mainmast,

Two well serv’d with grape and canister silence his musketry and clear his decks.

 

The tops alone second the fire of this little battery, especially the main-top,

They hold out bravely during the whole of the action.

 

Not a moment’s cease,

The leaks gain fast on the pumps, the fire eats toward the powder-magazine.

 

One of the pumps has been shot away, it is generally thought we are sinking.

 

Serene stands the little captain,

He is not hurried, his voice is neither high nor low,

His eyes give more light to us than our battle-lanterns.

 

Toward twelve there in the beams of the moon they surrender to us.

 

"Clouds that Gather Round the Setting Sun"

Intimations of Immortality from Recollections of Early Childhood

By William Wadsworth (1770 – 1850)

 

THERE was a time when meadow, grove, and stream,
The earth, and every common sight,
To me did seem
Apparell'd in celestial light,
The glory and the freshness of a dream.         
It is not now as it hath been of yore;—
Turn wheresoe'er I may,
By night or day,
The things which I have seen I now can see no more.

The rainbow comes and goes,  
And lovely is the rose;
The moon doth with delight
Look round her when the heavens are bare;
Waters on a starry night
Are beautiful and fair;  
The sunshine is a glorious birth;
But yet I know, where'er I go,
That there hath pass'd away a glory from the earth.

Now, while the birds thus sing a joyous song,
And while the young lambs bound  
As to the tabor's sound,
To me alone there came a thought of grief:
A timely utterance gave that thought relief,
And I again am strong:
The cataracts blow their trumpets from the steep;  
No more shall grief of mine the season wrong;
I hear the echoes through the mountains throng,
The winds come to me from the fields of sleep,
And all the earth is gay;
Land and sea  
Give themselves up to jollity,
And with the heart of May
Doth every beast keep holiday;—
Thou Child of Joy,
Shout round me, let me hear thy shouts, thou happy  
Shepherd-boy!