Showing posts with label sunbeam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sunbeam. Show all posts
27 September 2021
Shine Through - Blue Creek Lodge, Heron, Montana
“I’ve always thought of her the way I think of a precious gem: The beauty isn’t in the jewel itself but in the way the light shines through it.” -from This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger
28 June 2021
Wild Rose Bloom - Lee Metcalf Wildlife Refuge, Stevensville, Montana
“In every good tale there is a seed of truth, and from that seed a lovely story grows. Some of what I've told you is true and some ... well , let's just call it the bloom on the rosebush.”
-from This Tender Land by William Kent Krueger, page 444
11 November 2016
Imperfect Beauty - Missoula, Montana
"...No one but you had sufficient audacity and eyesight to find those clearings where the shy humiliations gambol on sunny afternoons..."
-from Prospero To Arieln, by W. H. Auden (1907-1973), Selected Poems, page 139
And isn't that one of the glories of autumn, that the benevolent sun beams through rusts and imperfections, these hallmarks of transformation, morphing the subject into a thing of bright beauty. And, oh what we miss when we credit these as anything less.
A rather fitting rabbit trail of thought on Remembrance Day, that arrives at thankfulness.
And isn't that one of the glories of autumn, that the benevolent sun beams through rusts and imperfections, these hallmarks of transformation, morphing the subject into a thing of bright beauty. And, oh what we miss when we credit these as anything less.
A rather fitting rabbit trail of thought on Remembrance Day, that arrives at thankfulness.
12 November 2013
Warm, Missoula, Montana
“A coat? I don’t need a coat - it’s at least 40 degrees (F) outside!”
Spoken by a true Montana outdoorsman, in spite of today’s Brooks Brothers shirt and corporate neck tie.
Spoken by a true Montana outdoorsman, in spite of today’s Brooks Brothers shirt and corporate neck tie.
26 December 2011
Old Trees Basking in the Sun
It seems as if the ancient poplars are reaching to be swept up by the same breeze that raked fingertips through the clouds.
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