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Great lighting and composition. The lighting makes the image pop.Trey
In the sun, in the shadows, Shasta daisies waving,As we meander 'cross the meadow, hands enlacing.
Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer, do.
AND what is so rare as a day in June? Then, if ever, come perfect days; Then Heaven tries earth if it be in tune, And over it softly her warm ear lays; Whether we look, or whether we listen, We hear life murmur, or see it glisten; Every clod feels a stir of might, An instinct within it that reaches and towers, And, groping blindly above it for light, Climbs to a soul in grass and flowers; The flush of life may well be seen Thrilling back over hills and valleys; The cowslip startles in meadows green, The buttercup catches the sun in its chalice, And there's never a leaf nor a blade too mean To be some happy creature's palace; The little bird sits at his door in the sun, Atilt like a blossom among the leaves, And lets his illumined being o'errun With the deluge of summer it receives; His mate feels the eggs beneath her wings, And the heart in her dumb breast flutters and sings; He sings to the wide world, and she to her nest,- In the nice ear of Nature which song is the best? Now is the high-tide of the year, And whatever of life hath ebbed away Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer, Into every bare inlet and creek and bay; Now the heart is so full that a drop overfills it, We are happy now because God wills it; No matter how barren the past may have been, 'Tis enough for us now that the leaves are green; We sit in the warm shade and feel right well How the sap creeps up and the blossoms swell; We may shut our eyes but we cannot help knowing That skies are clear and grass is growing; The breeze comes whispering in our ear, That dandelions are blossoming near, That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing, That the river is bluer than the sky, That the robin is plastering his house hard by; And if the breeze kept the good news back, For our couriers we should not lack; We could guess it all by yon heifer's lowing,- And hark! How clear bold chanticleer, Warmed with the new wine of the year, Tells all in his lusty crowing! Joy comes, grief goes, we know not how; Everything is happy now, Everything is upward striving; 'Tis as easy now for the heart to be true As for grass to be green or skies to be blue,- 'Tis for the natural way of living: Who knows whither the clouds have fled? In the unscarred heaven they leave not wake, And the eyes forget the tears they have shed, The heart forgets its sorrow and ache; The soul partakes the season's youth, And the sulphurous rifts of passion and woe Lie deep 'neath a silence pure and smooth, Like burnt-out craters healed with snow. James Russell Lowell
Is it summer already? I thought it was the 21st usually.The airwaves were not full of announcements.
Guy's view of summerShadows at local noon Mar 21 (2008), Dec 21 (2007), Sep 21 (2007), Jun 21 (2007). Mouse-over for date.It's an astronomical event, not a daisy event.Daisies are spring anyway. You want Black-Eyed Susans and Purple Coneflowers for summer.
Ann, that new photo is HOT.Are you single?
Much better profile photo.
The day's eye.
Oxeye Daisies."Daisies are spring anyway. You want Black-Eyed Susans and Purple Coneflowers [both, members of the Daisy (Aster) family] for summer."
Traditionally, here at Althouseblogspot, summer is not just an astronomical or daisy event. It's a breast cleavage event.
This is also a good time of year to clean out that drip tray and swoosh all those dust bunnies from under the Norge. Which is also good for a litte cleavage too.
Butt we Althousophiles tend to look for the former kind of cleavage, right?
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