Saturday, August 09, 2008

Listen To the Garden






"What a pity flowers can utter no sound!
A singing rose, a whispering violet, a murmuring honeysuckle,
oh what a rare and exquisite miracle would these be!"

- Henry Ward Beecher

13 comments:

Butch said...

The flowers are quite beautiful and the damselfly was perfect.

MartininBroda said...

Sorry, the comment is not eloquent, but seeing this place is of the type, damned I get visit, the afternoon is ruined, I must still look before to the midnight garden, so my mood is improving again (that's just really happened).

easygardener said...

I think Mr Beecher may be confusing beauty with intelligent conversation. The silence of flowers is one of their great attractions in this noisy world!

lostlandscape said...

I finally have it figured out...why we don't have many clouds. You're hoarding them all! (I like the frilly edges on the lower cloudbank in the picture.) Actually, it seems like you enjoy them well enough, so I'll cede them to you. Soon there'll be more than enough to go around.

I will hold my tongue on all those bright, perky, cheery, optimistic YELLOW flowers.

Alan said...

I'm just wondering if you grow any Rosemary...and does it survive the winter in Cape Cod?

I put mine in a pot last winter and brought it indoors for the winter. It actually survived and it now 2 feet wide and almost 2 feet tall since being back outside in the ground since May.

Greg said...

Alan, I haven't grown any rosemary recently. Not really sure what it would do here on the Cape...I would imagine it'd be safest bringing it in as you do...perhaps next year I'll create a more herb-centric space somewhere!

Jess said...

For whatever reason, the title of this post set off music in my head. A slight alteration from your title... "Listen to the rhythm of the pouring rain..." But I suppose you need the rain for the beautiful garden!

Whether it's visual beauty or reminders of a pretty song, your blog brightens the day!

Birdie said...

This is an especially beautiful series. What butch called a damselfly I grew up calling a witch doctor. I have no idea where the name came from, but my family always used it.

Greg said...

Hi Martin! Glad to hear the garden could help to improve your outlook!

Easy, I think flowers talk to us, but their language is color and feeling and not the way we're accustomed to communicating!

James, I don't mean to be keeping all the clouds to myself...I'm quite a fan of those perfectly blue skies...they just make a more boring photo!

Protest if you must, but I think you like those yellow flowers more than you care to let on.

Great song, Jess...and rain is almost always welcome (even tho I see a lot of it in the forecast for the coming week--figures, since the meteor showers should be peaking about the same time). Glad to brighten the day one way or t'other!

Thanks, Birdie! I like the name "witch doctor" for those little guys. I wonder where that comes from...I never knew what to call them, actually, until Patrick named them in his post the other day. They are certainly cool little fellows...like the dragonfly's Mini-Me.

: )

somewhere joe said...

the flowers are singing their midsummer song
along Not Wisteria Lane
honeysuckle tongues loll all the day long
when the damsels fly low it may rain

Marc said...

Lovely, as always!

TigerYogiji said...

Utterly fabulous!!!

Robin Easton said...

Hi dear Greg,

What profusion of color and beauty - such bursting and abundant life. Your garden is WONDERFUL!!! Isn't it fun and exciting to see.

Actually colors do resonate sound, although we cannot hear it with the humans ear. I learned a little about this when I studied sound. Different colors have different frequencies. You can go to this website and see more. It's wild.
http://www.lunarplanner.com/Harmonics/planetary-harmonics.html

I have missed being over here. Running behind due to an intense work load. But I thought of you when I saw whole sky full of lightening the other night. It looked like tree roots it was so jagged and multi-branched.

Hugs to you my friend,
Robin