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No Words posted by Endment at 9:35 PM 6 comments "The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,...
I memorized the words of Alfred Noyes "The Highwayman when I was in my early teens, not because of the romance of the poem but because of the images that filled my mind inspired by the words from these first two lines.
Tonight the wind gallops above the trees. Its own song nearly blotting out the intermitent calls of the katydid. Clouds hurry now ahead of the wind, racing across the face of that ghostly moon.

posted by Endment at 10:51 PM 17 comments Long awaited rain has arrived today, refreshing the garden and washing our world. I stand on the deck watching leaves swirl from the trees and letting the rain wash my spirit.
“I am sure it is a great mistake always to know enough to go in when it rains.
One may keep snug and dry by such knowledge,
but one misses a world of loveliness.”
- Adeline Knapp

posted by Endment at 5:23 PM 12 comments 
Sunshine on a Cloudy Morning Overcast with some fog and drizzle - brightened by friends Take almost any path you please, and ten to one it carries you down in a dale, and leaves you there by a pool in the stream. There is magic in it. Let the most absent-minded of men be plunged in his deepest reveries--stand that man on his legs, set his feet a-going, and he will infallibly lead you to water, if water there be in all that region. Should you ever be athirst in the great American desert, try this experiment, if your caravan happen to be supplied with a metaphysical professor. Yes, as every one knows, meditation and water are wedded forever.- ~Herman Melville~

posted by Endment at 8:45 AM 7 comments 

posted by Endment at 8:23 PM 11 comments posted by Endment at 5:55 PM 13 comments 

A new month
beginning with a rainbow promise
seems like an invitation to begin again When gentians roll their fingers tight
To save them for the morning,
And chestnuts fall from satin burrs
Without a sound of warning;
When on the ground red apples lie
In piles like jewels shining,
And redder still on old stone walls
Are leaves of woodbine twining;
When all the lovely wayside things
Their white-winged seeds are sowing,
And in the fields still green and fair,
Late aftermaths are growing;
When springs run low, and on the brooks,
In idle golden freighting,
Bright leaves sink noiseless in the hush
Of woods, for winter waiting;
When comrades seek sweet country haunts,
By twos and twos together,
And count like misers, hour by hour,
October's bright blue weather.
- Helen Hunt Jackson, October's Bright Blue Weather

posted by Endment at 11:35 PM 6 comments