Weekly Photo Challenge: Symmetry

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Epitome of Symmetry

Each year the US Navy Blue Angels perform at Seattle’s Seafair in August. We live just under the northeast turn point where they group up to return to “center point”. This photo was taken from my back yard.

Morning at the Beach

WP DSC_0639-EditA beach on Tybee Island, Savannah, Georgia. Languidly greeting the morning sun. The morning paper leaving traces of newsprint on my fingers. Need to go up to the shack for another cup of coffee soon.

Weekly Photo Challenge: Scale 2

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Representative of “scale” on several layers, this tiny, delicate flower contrasts with the large, sturdy rock it cozies up to. And its brief life is an infinitesimal percentage of that of the immutable stone.

They are perhaps a bit more spectacular when poking their heads through a blanket of icy snow. But they are a heart-warmer, whenever they appear.

The Crocus by Harriet Beecher Stowe

Beneath the sunny autumn sky,
With gold leaves dropping round,
We sought, my little friend and I,
The consecrated ground,
Where, calm beneath the holy cross,
O’ershadowed by sweet skies,
Sleeps tranquilly that youthful form,
Those blue unclouded eyes.

Around the soft, green swelling mound
We scooped the earth away,
And buried deep the crocus-bulbs
Against a coming day.
“These roots are dry, and brown, and sere;
Why plant them here?” he said,
“To leave them, all the winter long,
So desolate and dead.”

“Dear child, within each sere dead form
There sleeps a living flower,
And angel-like it shall arise
In spring’s returning hour.”
Ah, deeper down cold, dark, and chill
We buried our heart’s flower,
But angel-like shall he arise
In spring’s immortal hour.

In blue and yellow from its grave
Springs up the crocus fair,
And God shall raise those bright blue eyes,
Those sunny waves of hair.
Not for a fading summer’s morn,
Not for a fleeting hour,
But for an endless age of bliss,
Shall rise our heart’s dear flower

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