I have found myself thinking of summer fields

I have found myself thinking of summer fields. Fields full of flowers— poppies or lupines. Or, here, fields where the roses hook into the dunes, and their increase is manyfold. All summer they are red and pink and white tents of softness and nectar, which wafts and hangs everywhere— a sweetness so palpable and excessive that, before it, I’m struck, I’m taken, I’m conquered; I’m washed into it, as though it was a river, full of dreaming and idleness— I drop to the sand, I can’t move; I am restless no more; I am replete, supine, finished, filled to the last edges with an immobilizing happiness.

~ Mary Oliver, from “Owls” in Upstream: Selected Essays 


Photo: Bart Ceuppens (Belgium) with Poppies (via drxgonfly)

Saturday Morning


it is…quiet…morning
warm sunlight and cool,
crisp air streams through my open window.
my room is heavy with the smell
of flowers, vines, grass, and growth.
the only sounds are of…
a gentle wind chime,
and my own steady, deep breathing.

~ L. J. Buchanan, from Conceptual solitude


Photo: Heinz-Dieter with morning breeze

the summer we’re all sharing still has a few breaths left

beach-summer-weekend-breeze-grass-sand-dunes

From behind me in the heat, beneath a cloudless sky, I hear happy shouts. Treasure every moment you are given; savor every summer’s day. From the time you are a child there is the sanguine suggestion that you will have a supply of those days stretching to the horizon and beyond. The greatest gift of summers, even as they conclude each September, is the winking promise that next year a new one will be rolling around. Waiting for you up ahead.

Labor Day weekend: Soon autumn will arrive, cool days for rekindled ambition, a time for fervent vows and ardent goals, of fresh determination that this may be the season when your ship comes in. But before that, even now, the summer we’re all sharing still has a few breaths left, each with an expiration date. To squander a single one of them would seem a shame.

~ Bob Greene, excerpt from Summer’s Greatest Gift Is That Next Year There Will Be Another


Photo Sand, wind & jazz by Fintlandia (via couvertures de sérénité)

 

 

Summer 2016. Last call?

victoria-beach-california-pool

madrid,spain

Oh, to be here or there…Now.


Notes:

T.G.I.T.: 5:00 Bell!

black and white


Source: Photograph by  (via Newthom)

Let’s Go Swimming (In Suining)

suining-china-swimming-pool-crowded-dead-sea

More than 6,000 people pour into the swimming pool at the Dead Sea tourist resort to avoid summer heat in Suining, China.  See more photos and back story here: Chinese Tourists REALLY Love Their Swimming Pool At The ‘Daying Dead Sea’


Photo Source: wsj.com

Summer

Jean-Daniel-Lorieux


Notes: Photograph shot by Jean-Daniel Lorieux in Djerba, an island off the coast of Tunisia which is known for Mediterranean beaches and whitewashed desert towns. Find more of his photos on his Facebook page.   (Source: This Isn’t Happiness)

 

Summertime

beach-memories-summer

Charles Simic, 78, the Pulitzer Prize winning Serbian-American poet, wrote a piece for The New York Review of Books which was published in July, 2013.  It is titled “Summertime” and is a wonderful collage of short reflections on summer. Here’s a few excerpts:

  • A wind so mild this afternoon it touches our faces as we lie in the shade like little children going to sleep.
  • Are rocking chairs in this country, I’m asking myself, being rocked on summer evenings as much as they once were? Or do they stand abandoned and motionless on dark porches across the land, now that their elderly owners tend to relieve their boredom by sitting in front of their computers?
  • To my great regret, I no longer know how to be lazy, and summer is no fun without sloth. Indolence requires patience—to lie in the sun, for instance, day after day—and I have none left. When I could, it was bliss. I lived liked the old Greeks, who knew nothing of hours, minutes, and seconds.
  • There’s something familial, deeply comforting in the sound of a pig oinking in the peace and slumber of a summer afternoon.
  • For the sweet old couple working side by side in the garden, being ignorant of what goes on in the world has been the secret of their lifelong happiness.

Don’t miss “Summertime” in its entirety here: The New York Review of Books


Notes:

 

 

Saturday

relax-float-summer-weekend-saturday


Source: Joanna Chudy with “Take me to the River” (via ignant.de – Introducing the Melancholic Works of Joanna Chudy)

 

Summertime

rest-bed-feet

To my great regret, I no longer know how to be lazy, and summer is no fun without sloth. Indolence requires patience—to lie in the sun, for instance, day after day—and I have none left. When I could, it was bliss. I lived like the old Greeks, who knew nothing of hours, minutes, and seconds. No wonder they did so much thinking back then.

~ Charles Simic: ‘Summertime’, The New York Review of Books


Notes: Quotes – Thank you Beth @ Alive on all Channels. Photo – Your Eyes Blaze Out

%d bloggers like this: