Showing posts with label trees. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trees. Show all posts

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Week's End - Fiammetta

It's too soon for autumn leaves but the photograph reminds me of fiammetta - little flame. Or, if you want to be picky about it, fiammette (plural, I am assuming & I'm not checking my dictionary. Correct me, I don't mind at all.) I've been reading Boccaccio via Keats (Isabella and the Pot of Basil). I was vaguely aware that Bocaccio was another Italian inspired by a woman who didn't look at him twice. (Petrarch, too.)

This past spring, I won La Bella Lingua by Dianne Hales from Michelle Fabio's Bleeding Espresso. Dianne wrote a charming chapter on Italian's Literary Lions. As soon as I read, "For years I barely glanced at the white marble busts of Italy's grandi that line the shady paths of Rome's Pincio, the gardens above the Piazza del Popolo," I thought/yelled "I noticed!" But Dianne was doing something I have never done in Rome--jogged. I salute her - it's a great place to run.

I'm in more fragile health & feeling Keats-y, so if there today, I'd be walking by that gorgeous view & sighing. Mainly about the horrible news from Italy & France that Roma are being treated worse than usual. I'm beyond upset. (You just knew I'd turn this into something sad, right? An editor once said to me...you turn a lovely poem into the apocalypse every damn time. Crikey. -- he was English. Then he went on to say something rude about melancholic Welsh ethnic stuff. Harumph.)


Where are the writers, the artists, the poets, the philosophers? (They are actually still valued in some fashion in Europe, unlike here in America.) Well, there are protests, yes. I'll find individual names as soon as I post this. But Italy. France. Shame. Your noble pasts will be so much cold marble statuary lining grand avenues if you continue this outrage. We'll leave WWII out of this, ahem, for now. (I'm talking to you, too, Hungary.) Scapegoats. Remind you of anything? Suddenly, flaming red maples, little flames licking at the blue sky don't seem so innocent.

Apologies to Dianne, for using her charming love letter to Italian in this manner. I did not plan it (obviously, or I'd taken more care with grammar). But that's it; I can't do much more today or the rest of the weekend. Here's where you can buy it (& visit Dianne). I definitely recommend it. This know-it-all didn't know most of it (so far). Giulia Geranium is supposed to start again on Tuesday; but I'm postponing it until I see friends off to Sudan next Sunday.

(The beautiful Jen Gotch photograph via Joanna Goddard's Cup of Jo)

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Fireflies

Being a self-respecting fashion photography obsessive, I love Tim Walker. Click here for a short Vogue Italia film. What self-restraint--only one photograph. It's like being on a diet. Just playing around, I can't do much at moment. Julie the Cat & I have been moon watching. In other night light news, I am happy to report that the annual festival of fireflies is lighting up a pagoda-shaped pine out back. I wait for it every year. Julie is still on a chair looking out, but her mewing-reportage has subsided so I think the show is over.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

Night Lights


Each day concludes in a huge splurge of vermilions/... And night arrives in one gigantic step.--from Two Campers in Cloud Country (Rock Lake, Canada)*, S. Plath

I've always wanted to see the northern lights (aurora borealis). Canadians & Americans in the north will see them tonight. (Maybe.) Cool NASA link. Goodness. Meanwhile, off to the bath. I'm looking at bath posts for ideas & as always, Tina Tarnoff has something inspiring on Thought Patterns. Ready for a Bath? from August 2009.

Good night you lucky, lucky people up north.

*the poem is not about death, no matter what lunatics write; it's about sleep. And vacations, holidays. And how beautiful Ontario was on a camping trip. The End.

[bath & tree bed via Verhext tumblr]

Monday, July 12, 2010

Drunk With Pines

Happy birthday to sexy devil Pablo Neruda. He didn't look like one of the Spanish World Cup team; he's at a disadvantage, being dead & all. Still...

Drunk with Pines is from Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair*, beloved by sensitive young men everywhere as a go-to seduction aid. Well, it's true, I'm not criticizing. Worked on me. (*Translated by W.S. Merwin, newly-appointed Poet Laureate in the U.S. )

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Welcome to England, he said...

..you better bring your own sun...

Update: forget it. Even the small YouTube format is too large & it's annoying me already. If you want to see it, go here.

Ages ago I connected these photographs with the song &...other things--instantly. That's all I'm saying about going to & leaving England here. [This YouTube version of Tori Amos on Craig Ferguson's show has a somewhat darker, heavier sound than the album's; I like both, but that's why I include it & not the one from her website.] And yes, I can now watch videos & the like. I can see how someone might still be in their pj's & braids & goofy glasses late of a Saturday afternoon (uh, early evening) when they have the ability to download an iTune in 20 seconds vs. an hour (I kid you not). Must watch that.

The computer is no longer dial-up (well, the laptop isn't, working on the desktop) nor on the edge-of-a-nervous breakdown...so I have to think up another excuse for this mess & lack of header photo or image & ridiculous subtitle.

[Photographs are by generous Nick Bartoletti who is in Seattle, not England. From his Clise Mansion shoot. The gown is featured in The Fuse-Blower post/ reminiscence if it looks familiar.]

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Villa Giulia in Sepia


...an October storm was on its way. Villa Giulia, Etruscan museum, Rome. (for later)

Thursday, February 5, 2009

A cold wind...

So tiny, so tough. By Tom Grim, bird photographer extraordinaire.