19 December 2014

Into the Fog - Missoula, Montana

"...The reveries of ruins asked: “Will no  
one come?” The skeletons of trees inquired:  
“And who are you, forever on the go?”..."

- From 'In the Fog' by Giovanni Pascoli, as translated by Geoffrey Brock

18 December 2014

Winter Courage - Missoula, Montana

"Get a bicycle. 
You will certainly not regret it.

If you live."

– Mark Twain (Samuel Clemens), US writer and humorist (1835-1910)

Interestingly enough, this particular bicycle was parked outside that venerable Missoula beverage establishment, Charlie B's.

17 December 2014

Foggy Winter Weeds - Missoula, Montana

“What would the world be, once bereft Of wet and wildness?
Let them be left, O let them be left, wildness and wet;
Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.”- Gerard Manley Hopkins: 1881  'Inversnaid'

16 December 2014

December Charms - Missoula, Montana

"...How swift spring-summer-autumn drift
To epitaphs scrawled on a gift
Of moment-gold we cannot hold
For Time is insistent and bold

…and strips the bud that broke and thrilled
The limb where spring and summer spilled
To winds of phantom, freight-like train
That brings December once again

It rumbles from wide open skies
And showers silver sparkle-sighs
To eventide once dull and brown
December is November’s crown"
- From "December...again" by © Janet Martin

Ponder Janet's full poem here - your soul will thank you.

15 December 2014

Lichen The Neighborhood - Missoula, Montana

"There are often inquiries about cultivating lichens...Alas, there's no reliable way anyone has found to keep lichens going once they've been relocated... We can't tame lichens; as Irwin Brodo has said, in Lichens of North America, "...lichens are the essence of wildness." " - Stephen Sharnoff, in his essay 'Lichens and Oaks: A Deep Partnership'

14 December 2014

Naked Tree Thought - Missoula, Montana

"The trees down the boulevard stand naked in thought,

Their abundant summery wordage silenced, caught

In the grim undertow; naked the trees confront

Implacable winter's long, cross-questioning brunt."

- D. H. Lawrence, Winter in the Boulevard, 1916