A snapshot of the day….

Tags

Happiness, Jane Kenyon, Photography, Poetry

_{© James Currie}

There’s just no accounting for happiness
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.
from Happiness by Jane Kenyon

It was a day of happiness and it was wonderful!

No worries …

Tags

carefree, J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan, Youth

All children, except one, grow up. They soon know that they will grow up, and the way
Wendy knew was this. One day when she was two years old she was playing in a 
garden, and she plucked another flower and ran with it to her mother. I suppose she 
must have looked rather delightful, for Mrs. Darling put her hand to her heart and 
cried, ‘Oh, why can’t you remain like this for ever!’ That was all that passed between
them on the subject, but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always
know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.

J. M. Barrie from Peter Pan

I wish I could remember what it felt like to be carefree…

Lauren DiMarco in Ireland.

Another spring…

Tags

Bird nest, Christina Rossetti, Nest, Poetry, Spring, Victorian poetry

Spring Nest © Joan Currie

Another Spring
If I might see another Spring,
I’d not plant summer flowers and wait:
I’d have my crocuses at once,
My leafless pink mezereons,
My chill-veined snow-drops, choicer yet
My white or azure violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything
To blow at once, not late.

If I might see another Spring
I’d listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale;
I’d listen to the lusty herds,
The ewes with lambs as white as snow,
I’d find out music in the hail
And all the winds that blow.

If I might see another Spring –
Oh stinging comment on my past
That all my past results in “if” –
If I might see another Spring,
I’d laugh to-day, to-day is brief;
I would not wait for anything:
I’d use to-day that cannot last,
Be glad to-day and sing.

By Christina Rossetti

Savoring the signs of spring…

You, on the other side…

Tags

Art, Grieving, Loss of loved one, Memories, Mixed media, Poetry, Remembering, Woman with Roses

Lauren DiMarco at Joshua Tree

 Still Too Sharp
by Joan Currie

My memories of you are like shards of glass, 
they have to be handled very carefully.
Fearing that if I were to sustain a wound,
the bleeding would never stop…

A lasting fragrance…

Tags

Aging, Fashion, Lauren DiMarco, Longfellow, Photography, Poetry, Time

Party dress @ Joan Currie

Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!

from It Is Not Always May by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sometimes it is hard not to lament the passing of time…

Getty image

Useful moves detected…

Tags

Art, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Love, Portrait

Lauren DiMarco in Ireland © Joan Currie

First time he kissed me, he but only kissed
The fingers of this hand wherewith I write,
And ever since it grew more clean and white,
Slow to world-greetings, quick with its “O, list,”
When the angels speak. A ring of amethyst
I could not wear here plainer to my sight, 
Than that first kiss…
from First time he kissed me by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Grateful for the small yet sacred declarations of love…

Flapper time…

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Art, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Fashion, Flapper, Mixed media

© Joan Currie – Charleston bodice & skirt – Mixed media

This is the beauty I want. Beauty has got to be astonishing, astounding — it’s got to burst in on you like a dream, like the exquisite eyes of a girl.
from F. Scott Fitzgerald, Flappers and Philosophers

The holiday season has arrived. Dressing up for a razzle-dazzle evening…

Regrouping…

Tags

Labyrinth of Desire, Love, Relationships, Rosemary Sullivan, watercolor

© Rachel Valley

She does not yet  know that real love does not demand perfection.
from Labyrinth of Desire by Rosemary Sullivan

But she is about to meet the man who will teach her …

Model: Lauren DiMarco

Flight risk…

Tags

Blue heron, Creativity, Nadia Janice Brown, Photography, water fowl

© Joan Currie

Creativity is the Blue Heron within us waiting to fly; through her imagination, all things become possible.
Nadia Janice Brown

This elegant fowl granted me a few moments before spreading its wings and flying away.

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Hallowe’en…

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Hallowe'en, Hallowe'en costume, Poetry, Robert Herrick poem, Witch

© Joan Currie

To work magic is to weave the unseen forces into form; to soar beyond sight; to explore the uncharted dream realm of the hidden reality. – Starhawk from Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach

My childhood Hallowe’en costumes were always some variation on the witch theme, with the capes becoming more and more elaborate as the years went on. I think I fared better than my siblings who opted for ghost garb.

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