Edgewood Park is just a regular urban park in the city of New Haven in Connecticut. There’s nothing very special about it. There’s a small river that runs underneath the bridge, where a busy street stretches above it. The place is always quite. Once in a while some people jogged or walked about there. There’s a football field nearby that’s shrouded with trees. When a game or practice was happening, you could hear the cheer and the scuffles of people running around the field. If you came to the park in the morning or in the afternoon when busy hours were subsided, you could hear nothing but the birds singing and the wind. I love Edgewood Park the most when it’s Fall. When the leaves change into sea of yellow, and the sunlight makes them so radiant and breathtaking. Now, that Fall is here again, I can’t wait to visit the park and mesmerize by its spectacular scenery.
(Photos from last Fall)
THE CALLI must get out to the woods again, to the whispering tree and the birds awing, Away from the haunts of pale-faced men, to the spaces wide where strength is king; I must get out where the skies are blue and the air is clean and the rest is sweet, Out where there’s never a task to do or a goal to reach or a foe to meet. I must get out on the trails once more that wind through shadowy haunts and cool, Away from the presence of wall and door, and see myself in a crystal pool; I must get out with the silent things, where neither laughter nor hate is heard, Where malice never the humblest stings and no one is hurt by a spoken word. Oh, I’ve heard the call of the tall white pine, and heard the call of the running brook, I’m tired of the tasks which each day are mine, I’m weary of reading a printed book, I want to get out of the din and strife, the clank and clamor of turning wheel, And walk for a day where life is life, and the joys are true and the pictures real. –EDGAR A. GUEST–
A dedication to a man whose languages were among the most beautiful languages in the world. The words that are intangible, but true in their forms in imaginations.“The Road goes ever on and on Down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the Road has gone, And I must follow, if I can, Pursuing it with weary feet, Until it joins some larger way, Where many paths and errands meet. And whither then? I cannot say.”
– J.R.R. Tolkien (Chapter 3: Three is Company, The Fellowship of The Ring)–
THE TREES – Lucy Larcom
“Every tree gives answer to some different mood”
We live near a church and the rectory that has a wonderful garden. There’s a giant Magnolia tree on its front yard, while during spring, summer and fall, the flowers that bloom in there ranging from Snowdrops, Hydrangea, Shasta Daisy,Hyacinth, Roses etc. It is truly a sight to be hold. A couple of weeks ago I spotted some purple flowers bloomed between Shasta Daisies. I realized they were some Fall Crocuses. It was the first time I saw them up close, though I’ve heard of their poisonous effect for sometimes.It is autumn; not without But within me is the cold. Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old. Birds are darting through the air, Singing, building without rest; Life is stirring everywhere, Save within my lonely breast. There is silence: the dead leaves Fall and rustle and are still; Beats no flail upon the sheaves, Comes no murmur from the mill.
– AUTUMN WITHIN by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow –
I promise my self that there would be some flowers freshening up our dinning table. Though mostly I would forget to buy some when I did grocery shopping, usually it’s because I didn’t find any interesting flowers that suited my mood. But for the past three weeks now, I’ve started wonderful habit of putting some flowers on the dinning table. The first week began with five Calla Lilies that I bought from my kids’ favorite market and my girly mood chose the pink ones. I set up the Lilies on a blue-bottle that I got from a tag sale for $1. They perked up our table and sure was my day.
October Rain, a photo series when I let my self soaked in the foggy and misty morning.
—————————————A bleak wind is riding on the waves, And the shadowy foam is hurled; And the gray rains are on the hills And a gray dusk is over the world. And bleak moods and shadowy moods Move like the moods of the sea, And mist, like gray unspoken thoughts, Is looking strangely at me. And I am lost in grayness, My dreams are still and furled, For the gray rains are on the hills And a gray dusk is over the world.
GRAY – Oscar Williams