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The days of the blackbird in the garden





29, 30, 31 January are the so-called "days of the blackbird", the coldest days of the year. I wonder if you ever wondered why they are called days of the blackbird, now finally you will know. And you know that the blackbirds were once rigorously and white candidates? Then something happened, just the coldest days of the year and have since become all blacks.
According to legend, to escape the cold, a mother blackbird and his children took refuge in a chimney. When he came out they were all blacks and for this reason the coldest days of the year are called "days of the blackbird" and blackbirds are all blacks. I'm happy to now be able to clarify many doubts, meanwhile, is scheduled for tomorrow with such a strong disturbance in the snow, who knows, maybe every legend has a grain of truth. Good evening
Say it with a flower
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Doni

... when two girls in shopping around, I think, they think you are, to what who find pleasure, and there among the things if they choose something when you do something for you ... thinking of someone and work for hours without anything of what you have done to reach those who think ... when you learn to receive ...
all is lost.

Milena Velba E Sue Simili

Stardust

Each passing day increases my perception of dust. Being infinitely small before all'infinitamrnte great. Branch dried in a cold winter, atrophied conscience in front of a starry night, spring buried by snow. Canto faint, unable to spread, heat soon defeated by a total nudity.
dust and stars.

Feeling dust because cisono the endless "torches." Feeling cold, because there is the warm belly of the infinite love, dried up because there is a branch feel my own apple blossom.
my dust, my winter, my atrophy, the weak hand is my declaration of abandonment before the Being, is my cry for life, the love that knows the birth always wanted to be everything. Inside me, however, won a melancholy, a melancholy moved in front of the stars whose love decorating my dust.

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The gamble with the future

You can not remove risk from their vocabulary the word, unless you decide to relinquish their own life, the infinite possibilities.
Yet as a Grand Inquisitor, the temptation is to initiate a process that eliminates, to judge any incorrect leap into the void, any bet with the future, this from a friend and amazed, but not without a trace, as if no depth.
Who can be the judge of that process: None. Myself, I can close the door and lie down quietly on the couch and perhaps the logic of realism, common or open the door and out into the blue sky that I need, who knows if tomorrow will be covered with some clouds gray and I wet.
hate sofas, but it is hard to bet the future and walking on the edge of the abyss, but the sky blue, my God, it burns in the heart ...

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Your garden

What is your garden, wild, free grace of aspect, the alternating scents. But is your place of battle, your soul trench. Even in the months when there will be no roses to cheer, only bare branches of winter, that's the place to give consistency to your soul and your body. The books do not serve to love. The lists of misery burn 'em to fertilize the garden.

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Writers

Did you know ...
Colette came out of the garden with her hair in disorder, staked twigs "... it was exactly like that of a Bacchante after the libations."
Emily Dickinson, naturalist and botanist, since he loved little girl picking flowers and leaves for his herbarium.
Vita Sackville-West in the garden at Sissinghurst 'roses drunk looks around and does not know what to recommend "
Elisabeth von Armin (Mary Annette Beauchamp), in his wild garden full of intricate branches, found their happiness when the child ran meadows sprinkled with dandelions and daisies with a slice of bread spread with butter and sugar.
Marguerite Yourcenar lived among the bluebells in spring color it blue the lawn of his white house facing the sea and its surrounding wild garden.
Edith Warton was relief and joy by walking the trails designed by herself in her large garden.
George Sand loved nature and flowers are always present in his works, he cultivated them, paint them and gathered them for his herbarium to browse through the sad days to find moments of peace and quiet.
Karen Blixen loved his garden Danish, after his return from Africa, and took care of the bushes of peonies and other flowers that were used for its extravagant and colorful compositions. Eudora Welty
squatting on the grass the flower beds cleaned and prepared the ground for its roses and its camellias smelling the smell of the earth and making it slip through your fingers.
Jane Austen "the nature and its beauties are approached in his own way ", to be enchanted and enthralled.

If I have intrigued enough, then read this new book of my friend Adele Cavalli. So much rain is expected in these days, time and desire to tidy up garden certainly is not.
Greetings
Say it with a flower

Rocco Big Mess In Stream

The Miracle of the waited time


So what's the miracle of time. The miracle by which you can sense a gap between a before and after, a huge vacuum or full from an unexpected moment. That miracle that rips from abstraction, from the sentimental myths, from the vanities of the mind. A
face.
The miracle of time is a face.
That time that you want to restrict times of years, an entire decade, it reveals you as a friend. Thirty fragile days bring with them autumns springs summers and winters. Shades of soul and mind, flowers and snow. And I understand things, my God, domo passions, widen the walls of me, I see the abyss, the flowers the day of possibility of love, loving frank, rude, troubled and happy. I never felt this flow of time so innervated quantities and weaknesses, I have never seen so frail of certainties, I have never seen the sea surface, and violent peaceful and I saw the similarities with humans, without objection. Everyone is as it is. Some large, some other small. Few are like the sea.
The miracle of time is a face. Your
.
violent and peaceful, changing infinitely at every moment and every moment a new light shines down on you: on the melancholy gray, deep blue, wet blue sun are like the sea, immense and innamorante.