Yesterday’s full moon, the closest to the September equinox, was the Harvest Moon. Our friend Pat / e-Quips published a wonderful post about it: you can read it here , and also Lara Ferri wrote about it in the post you can find here In the Northern Hemisphere the Harvest Moon is astronomically significant because… Read More Under the Harvest Moon
‘I Know Not How It Falls On Me’ I know not how it falls on me,This summer evening, hushed and lone;Yet the faint wind comes soothinglyWith something of an olden tone. Forgive me if I’ve shunned so longYour gentle greeting, earth and air!But sorrow withers even the strong,And who can fight against despair? Emily Brontë… Read More Summer Evening
Romantic poet John Clare was born into a poor peasant family in the small English village of Helpston, in Northamptonshire, on 13 July 1793.Since he had great financial difficulties, he was forced to work as a farm labourer to support his familyHe suffered from mental problems and delusions, so he was placed in an asylum… Read More Summer 🐝 🐞
“If winter comes,Can spring be far behind?” (1)He wondered this morning at the beginning of winter. Don’t worry, I said“If we winter this one out,We can summer anywhere.” (2) Can’t you see that “Winter is on my head,But eternal spring is in my heart.” (3)? “And when wind and winter hardenAll the loveless land….You will… Read More Winter Has Come (Pot-Pourri)
Qualche giorno fa, su Facebook, il nostro amico Aladin Fazel (lampmagician) ha pubblicato un meraviglioso dipinto dal titolo: “Al primo tocco di Inverno Estate svanisce “ (“At the First Touch of Winter, Summer Fades Away”).E’ un’opera del 1897 del pittore britannico Valentine Cameron Prinsep, esponente del Movimento Preraffaellita. Io l’ho trovato molto bello e vorrei… Read More At the First Touch of Winter, Summer Fades Away 🎨
11 November is Saint Martin’s day, also known as the Funeral of Saint Martin, because Saint Martin of Tours, who died on 8 November 397, was buried three days later. According to tradition, he cut his cloak in half to share with a beggar during a snowstorm, to save him from the cold harsh winter.In… Read More Estate di San Martino/Indian Summer
The Summer that we did not prize,Her treasures were so easyInstructs us by departing nowAnd recognition lazy – Bestirs itself – puts on its CoatAnd scans with fatal promptnessFor Trains that moment out of sightUnconscious of his smartness – (Emily Dickinson – Poem 1773) When the gifts of summer were close at hand, they went… Read More “The Summer that we did not prize…”
Summer for thee grant I may beWhen summer days are flown!Thy music still when whippoorwillAnd oriole are done! For thee to bloom, I’ll skip the tombAnd sow my blossoms o’er!Pray gather me, Anemone,Thy flower forevermore! Emily Dickinson – Poems (1858) In this poem Emily Dickinson claims that love can do anything. Even death becomes nothing,… Read More Anemone
