Silver sunlight streams through the trees carrying minute size droplets of morning dew beading upon jade tipped leaves and soft petal flowers tremble in the breeze while the swans swoon.
“Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold.”
Zelda Fitzgerald ...................................... ...................... .... ....................................... .......
My blog is where imagination, art
and the eclectic meet
and I blog about the natural world and it's jewels ......................................................................................................................................
ABOUT ME:
I like the sweet scent of the earth
-after the rain
.*The feel of the sand between my toes --and the touch of the waves,
*The taste of fresh picked fruit
--in the noon day sun,
*The welcoming shade of trees--
in the heat of the day,
*The sound of children's laughter
-- playing in the golden fields,
*That joyful feeling --of being fully alive.
My images, photo, ideas, writings, poetry, are not intended for resale: please do not use them for commercial purposes. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of materials without express or written permission is strictly prohibited.
SOME images ARE MY SOLE PROPERTY AND OTHERS presented are discovered through the internet. Prior to posting, I take all steps possible to identify the original creator of the image and will provide attribution to its creator and discovery source. No copyright infringement is intended.
Books to Read
French Essence by Vicki Archer's ( & Carla Coulson photography) Captivating
Be swept away by Carla Coulson
with her lavish photography
Prose of Heart and Soul
Evocative & Profound
Support the ARTS!
Poem by Gueniviene Taggard, 1917
To sit together and drink the blue ocean, and eat the sun like a fruit
"'Beauty is truth, truth beauty,' - that is all Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know." Sir Joshua Reynolds [English Rococo Era Painter, 1723-1792]
I love everything that's old, -- Old friends, Old times, Old manners, Old books, Old wine. Oliver Goldsmith