Category Archives: beauty

I shift my attention to wisteria leaves.

beauty, my garden, , , ,

Most of the day I’ve been in a melancholy mood, except for the hour or so I was outside helping Alejandro pull the remaining leaves off the plum trees. We did this in preparation for applying the first dormant spray of the season, and I do love being in the garden, just soaking up the fresh smells and dampness. In the middle of the day, that is, when the chill doesn’t go straight to the bones.

I spent hours and hours out there this week, planting bulbs and annuals too late, and getting a little weary of the cold sogginess. But every time I would look up from the ground, there was the sky, and the varied colors of leaves drifting down from my crape myrtle, or the neighbor’s liquidamber. The whole thing overwhelms me with the beauty and sadness of the earth.

And today, it was the wisteria in my own garden that lifted my head and heart — it is a richer, deeper, brighter yellow-gold than I’ve ever noticed before. Truly, if cameras had never been invented, I would have had to learn to paint long ago.

Happy December, my Dear Readers all!

These colors are renewed daily.

beauty, poetry, ,

THE VIEW FROM THE WINDOW

Like a painting it is set before one,
But less brittle, ageless; these colours
Are renewed daily with variations
Of light and distance that no painter
Achieves or suggests.  Then there is movement,
Change, as slowly the cloud bruises
Are healed by sunlight, or snow caps
A black mood; but gold at evening
To cheer the heart.  All through history
The great brush has not rested,
Nor the paint dried; yet what eye,
Looking coolly, or, as we now,
Through the tears’ lenses, ever saw
This work and it was not finished?

-R. S. Thomas, Poetry for Supper 

Marsh Under Golden Skies – Granville Redmond

 

To make broken things beautiful.

art, beauty, love, quotes, , , , , , , , , ,

From Mother Melania:

Japanese kintsugi mending tools“Have you ever heard of kintsugi? Literally ‘golden joinery,’ kintsugi is ‘the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with urushi lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold, silver, or platinum … As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise’ (Thanks, Wikipedia!). I won’t presume to discuss the Japanese philosophies related to this art. But there are certainly deeply Christian parallels to be drawn. Three come immediately to mind.

“First are those who valiantly and humbly endure life’s inequities or unjust persecution, such as Job, Patriarch Joseph, Jeremiah, and the beggar Lazarus. Crushed in various ways through no fault of their own, these saints became beautiful not despite the cracks, but because of how they dealt with them. Without such trials, these saints would never have become as great as they are.

“Second are those who sinned greatly but repented deeply, such as King David, Peter, and Paul. Their great sins are there for all to see and the sins remain sinful. Yet, Christ healed their fractured souls with the gold of their repentance and faithfulness.

“Then there is Christ Himself. He didn’t just valiantly and humbly endure unjust persecution: He came to earth for that very purpose – for OUR sake. So, His wounded side and hands remain in eternity as visible signs of the beauty of His victorious self-sacrificial love.

“So, let’s take heart. Are we innocently enduring persecution? Christ can make us beautiful through our trials. Have we fallen into serious sin? We can repent and still become great saints. We can even go past these things to suffer freely for love of Christ and His people. Thus, we shall most deeply resemble Him Whose greatest glory is that He was freely broken for our sake.”

—Abbess Melania, Holy Assumption Monastery

Her Perfect Face

beauty, nature, poetry, ,

A few weeks ago when I ran across this poem, I scheduled it to publish this evening, when the moon is nearly full. But I didn’t know that I would be driving home from Vespers at 6:30 and along that road where it’s happened before that I found the moon rising huge and golden right in front of me; if only  could lift off at a slight angle from the pavement, I could drive right up and park on it. But instead, I admired her perfect face for a few timeless moments…. and then I was home!

THE MOON

The moon was but a chin of gold
A night or two ago,
And now she turns her perfect face
Upon the world below.
Her forehead is of amplest blond;
Her cheek like beryl stone;
Her eye unto the summer dew
The likest I have known.
Her lips of amber never part;
But what must be the smile
Upon her friend she could bestow
Were such her silver will!
And what a privilege to be
But the remotest star!
For certainly her way might pass
Beside your twinkling door.
Her bonnet is the firmament,
The universe her shoe,
The stars the trinkets at her belt,
Her dimities of blue.

-Emily Dickinson

Winslow Homer, Moonlight