Tag: Spring
What is that weird, tingling feeling? Could it possibly be … hope?
But then the sun came out where I live this week, and I was alive again. Dunno if you’ve noticed this, but it’s been the longest year since records began, and the timing of lockdown restrictions easing this week coinciding with warm weather in parts of England – which the press was more than happy to call a “heatwave” – has me feeling quite hopeful. I can hear a bird tweeting as I type this sentence! The sun is in the sky! Life begins anew! …
There is a tingling, bright feeling in the air that feels alien to a lot of us – anticipation, maybe, the idea that lido visits will soon lead to pub visits that will one day lead to music festivals and cheap summer holidays. I have a haircut booked in for 12 April and, after a full year without anything to anticipate, it might be the most excited about anything I’ve ever been in my life. Spring is a season of green shoots. Being able to go to someone’s garden and interact with five other people who have spent a year forgetting how to make small talk finally feels like one of them.
— Joel Golby, from “What is that weird, tingling feeling? Could it possibly be … hope?” in “The Guardian” March 30, 2021
Photo: DK @ Daybreak, March 30, 2021, Norwalk, CT. 6:38 am.
Spring Night
The few minutes of a Spring night are worth ten thousand pieces of gold.
The perfume of the flowers is so pure.
The shadows of the moon are so black.
— Su Dongpo, (1037-1101) from “Spring Night” in “One Hundred Poems from the Chinese.” Trans. Kenneth Rexroth.
Notes:
- Photo by DK: Mar 28 2020. 2:34 A.M. 46° F. Backyard.
- Poem: Thank you Beth @ (via Alive on All Channels)
Sunday Morning
First blossoms.
Seeing them extends my life seventy-five more years.
~Matsuo Bashō, “haiku 96”, from “Reading Basho with My Ten Year Old” in Paris Review, April 29, 2020
Notes:
- Photo: DK on Run This morning. 6:11 am.
-
Matsuo Bashō, born 松尾 金作, was the most famous poet of the Edo period in Japan. He is recognized as the greatest master of haiku. He was born in 1644 and died in 1694
Spring
And the scent of mock orange
drifts through the window.
How can I rest?
How can I be content
when there is still
that odor in the world?
— Louise Glück, from “Mock Orange” in The Triumph of Achilles
Notes:
- Inspired by: “Here’s my advice, hold. Hold beauty.” by Anne Carson, The Beauty of the Husband.
- Poem via Memory’s Landscape; Photo: Jane Statham of White Flowers, Mock Orange Blossom. More on Mock Orange.