the world is alive

A poignant reminder in this most precarious, saddest, happiest of seasons.

Poised between weariness and hope.

Longing and waiting.


In the rain.

*       *       *

Winter and Summer

All the sweetness of nature was buried in black winter's grave, and the wind sings a sad lament with its cold plaintive cry; but oh, the teeming summer will come, bringing life in its arms, and will strew rosy flowers on the face of hill and dale.

In lovely harmony the wood has put on its green mantle, and summer is on its throne, playing its string-music; the willow, whose harp hung silent when it was withered in winter, now gives forth its melody -- Hush ! Listen ! The world is alive.

--from the Welsh; Thomas Telynog Evans; 1840-65, in A Celtic Miscellany, Sel. and Trans. Kenneth Hurlstone Jackson (London: Penguin, 1971), p. 87.