I am messing around and avoiding work this Saturday afternoon – any excuse to play with a new camera and a much-loved old macro lens that hasn’t seen the light of day for over 15 years! And a chance to finally take part in the WordPress weekly photo challenge … the topic for Friday 19 February is Seasons.
It never stops raining at the moment and all a gardener can do is press her nose to the windowpane. Even 2015’s dried allium seed heads are starting to look a bit miserable. Raindrops and dead alliums … the summer seems so far away!
While ‘wasting’ time, I also came across Walt Whitman’s poem, ‘The Voice of the Rain’. This is more like it … a hopeful message for the rain-bound February gardener.
And who art thou? said I to the soft-falling shower,
Which, strange to tell, gave me an answer, as here translated:
I am the Poem of Earth, said the voice of the rain,
Eternal I rise impalpable out of the land and the bottomless sea,
Upward to heaven, whence, vaguely form’d, altogether changed, and
yet the same,
I descend to lave the drouths, atomies, dust-layers of the globe,
And all that in them without me were seeds only, latent, unborn;
And forever, by day and night, I give back life to my own origin,
and make pure and beautify it;
(For song, issuing from its birth-place, after fulfilment, wandering,
Reck’d or unreck’d, duly with love returns.)
His poem taught me a new word: to ‘reck’, meaning to take heed of, or to be thought important. Usually used in the negative, the Oxford Dictionary says, as in, ‘It recks little.’
Back soon to start my walk around the village of Châtillon-sur-Saône …