Daily Idyllic

Frederick Edwin Church, Scene on the Catskill Creek, New York

Daily Idyllic

November Snow - (Walter Launt Palmer - 1903)

Daily Idyllic

      

October - (William Trost Richards - 1863)

Daily Idyllic 

Alfred Fontville DeBreanski

 The Trossachs Ben Venue and Loch Achray 

Daily Idyllic

Herman Herzog, Girl With Geese

A Pastoral Landscape

(Thomas Moran - 1889)

Pennsylvania Scenery, Herzog

I'm so homesick for places that look like this.  I'm tired of all these spruce trees and muskegs. I'm sick of all these moose and bald eagles.  I don't want the stream so full of 3o pound fish so big that their backs are sticking out of the water.  Some minnows and some frogs and some crayfish, that's all I want.  Bossie won't turn and knock you down and dance on your spine like a moose will.  Just a nice babble is all I want.  I don't like to have to make all kinds of racket the whole time to make my presence known over the roar of the torrent all to keep the thousand pound monstrous beasts gorging on 30 pound fish with their backs sticking out of the water from being surprised by and mauling to death the little man who just wants a little warm peaceful sunshine and a little quiet babble. 

If you disagree, then suppose to be true whatever you want to suppose to be true.

Would you like to live?  Then eat.  You have to eat to live.  Oh yeah, another thing ... it has to be food.  Eating food gives life.  If it's not food that you're consuming then you're not really eating.  If it's, say ...  foam rubber, you can chew it up and swallow it and your system will make an attempt to digest it but you will get no life from it.  It may in fact cause you to die.  So I'm going to say that if when you eat it, it gives you life, then it's food and if it's not food, then you are not really eating ...because it doesn't give you life. Eating food gives life.  

Another very useful, necessary and even essential act for the sustaining of human life is that of breathing.  You must breath air to live.  And once again I think it's important to stress that it really must be air that is breathed in order to live. You can suck carbon dioxide into your lungs and force it back out with your diaphragm but only a time or two before you start to lose consciousness.    I tried to breath some water once when I was a kid and I could tell right away that it wasn't going to work.  So I'm going to say that when you suck air in your lungs and get life from it, then you're breathing but if it's not air then you are not really breathing ...because it doesn't give you life. Breathing air gives life.

I've heard people say "I'll believe what I want to believe."  This is a nonsense statement and I'm taking the time to explain eating and breathing in order to show that believing  seems to work analogously to them.   Believing truth gives life.  Do you want to live?  Then believe.  You must believe to get life and it has to be truth to be believed.  You can take lies into your head and suppose them to be true but you'll get no life from them.  I have to say that if it's not truth,  then it can't even be believed because it's the believing of truth that gives life.  If you disagree then suppose to be true whatever you want to suppose to be true but don't say you'll believe what you want to believe  because I don't think it can be done.

My apologies to George MacDonald.

Sometimes a painting is so appealing to me I stare and long to be there.  I can almost hear and smell the place and almost feel the air.  And the people are so amiable and friendly.  And suspicious- They're looking at me and that guy's pointing.  They're wondering what I'm doing over here looking at them.  Maybe I better just leave.
The Picnic by Moran

My word a day today is Achates--   noun: A trusty friend or companion.  Right away thought that would be a great name for a dog.  Then I read further:  After Achates, the faithful companion and friend of Aeneas, in the epic poem Aeneid by the Roman poet Vergil (70-19 BCE). In the story, Achates is called fidus Achates (faithful Achates) and he accompanies Aeneas everywhere in his adventures.   My dog's full name could be Fidus (or Fido) Achates.  (We once had a dog named Madame Florence Foster Jenkins)

Alexander Helwig Wyant, Before the Storm

This started out as a song I only listened to because I just could not believe that Joni Mitchell was singing it. Now it's really beautiful to me. (Is Joni Mitchell not an atheist?)

I read this when I was a kid and have been looking for it again ever since.  Don't know who wrote it.  I can't quite figure out the last word though.

Diese Bookletto ise for dose iu laiche tu fallo di spiccher uail ise spicche.

Di Tri Berese

Uans opponna taim uas tri berrese, mamma berre, pappa berre e beibe berre. Liva inne contri nire foresta. Naise aus, no mugheggia. Uanne dei Pappa, Mamma e beibe go bice, orie a furghetta locche di doore.
Bai enne bai commese Goldilocchese. Sci garra nattinghe tu du batte meiche troble. Sci puscie olle fudde daon di maute, no liva cromme. Denna sci gossa appesterrese enne slipse in olle di beddse. Leise slobbe! Bai enne bai commese omme di tri berrese, alle sannebronne enne send inne scius. Dei garra no fudde, dei garra no beddse. Enne uara dei goine du to Goldilocchese? Tro erre aute inne strit? Colle pulissemenne? Fette cienze! Dei uas Italiane berrese, enne dei slippe onna florre! Goldilocchese stei derre tri uicase, itte auta ausenome! Enne giosta bicose dei esche erre tu meiche di beddse, sci sei "Go tu elle" enne runne omme craine tu erre mamma, etellenerre uat sanimabicese di tri berrese uere. Uatsiuse? Uara iu goine du? Go compleine sittiolle?

A painting by Rozh

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Ladle Rat Rotten Hut

By Howard L. Chace

WANTS PAWN TERM DARE WORSTED LADLE GULL HOE LIFT wetter murder inner ladle cordage honor itch offer lodge, dock, florist. Disk ladle gull orphan worry Putty ladle rat cluck wetter ladle rat hut, an fur disk raisin pimple colder Ladle Rat Rotten Hut.
Wan moaning Ladle Rat Rotten Hut's murder colder inset.
"Ladle Rat Rotten Hut, heresy ladle basking winsome burden barter an shirker cockles. Tick disk ladle basking tutor cordage offer groin-murder hoe lifts honor udder site offer florist. Shaker lake! Dun stopper laundry wrote! Dun stopper peck floors! Dun daily-doily inner florist, an yonder nor sorghum-stenches, dun stopper torque wet strainers."
"Hoe-cake, murder," resplendent Ladle Rat Rotten Hut, an tickle ladle basking an stuttered oft.
Honor wrote tutor cordage offer groin-murder, Ladle Rat Rotten Hut mitten anomalous woof.
"Wail, wail, wailI" set disk wicket woof, "Evanescent Ladle Rat Rotten Hut. Wares are putty ladle gull goring wizard ladle basking?"
"Armor goring tumor groin-murder's," reprisal ladle gull. "Grammar's seeking bet. Armor ticking arson burden barter an shirker cockles."
"0 hoe! Heifer gnats woke," setter wicket woof, butter taught tomb shelf, "Oil tickle shirt court tutor cordage offer groin-murder. Oil ketchup wetter letter, an den-- O bore!"
Soda wicket woof tucker shirt court, an whinny retched a cordage offer groin-murder, picked inner windrow, an sore debtor pore oil worming worse lion inner bet. Inner flesh, disk abdominal woof lipped honor bet, paunched honor pore oil worming, an garbled erupt. Den disk ratchet ammonol pot honor groin-murder's nut cup an gnat-gun, any curdled ope inner bet.
Inner ladle wile, Ladle Rat Rotten Hut a raft attar cordage, an ranker dough ball. "Comb ink, sweat hard," setter wicket woof, disgracing is verse.
Ladle Rat Rotten Hut entity bet rum, an stud buyer groin-murder's bet.
"O Grammarl" crater ladle gull historically, "Water bag icer gut! A nervous sausage bag ice."
"Battered lucky chew whiff, sweat hard," setter bloat-Thursday woof, wetter wicket small honors phase.
O, Grammar, water bag noisel A nervous sore suture anomalous prognosis!"
"Battered small your whiff, doling," whiskered dole woof, ants mouse worse waddling.
"0 Grammar, water bag mouser gutY A nervous sore suture bag mouse!"
Daze worry on-forger-nut ladle gull's lest warts. Oil offer sodden, caking offer carvers an sprinkling otter bet, disk hoard-hoarded woof lipped own pore Ladle Rat Rotten Hut an garbled erupt.
MURAL: Yonder nor sorghum stenches shut ladle gulls stopper torque wet strainers.

Alexei Butirskiy, on golden pond

I just like this.

TO THE SUPREME BEING.  
The prayers I make will then be sweet indeed 
If Thou the spirit give by which I pray: 
My unassisted heart is barren clay,
Which of its native self can nothing feed: 
Of good and pious works thou art the seed, 
Which quickens only where thou say'st it may: 
Unless thou shew to us thine own true way 
No man can find it: Father! thou must lead. 
Do Thou, then, breathe those thoughts into my mind 
By which such virtue may in me be bred 
That in thy holy footsteps I may tread; 
The fetters of my tongue do Thou unbind, 
That I may have the power to sing of thee, 
And sound thy praises everlastingly.


William Wordsworth

Wow, I've just happened across a couple of Wordsworth's poems lately.

Usually I give up on poetry after the first few lines--I lose patience with it.

Sometimes I think it's purposely (and needlessly) made obscure.

Can't think of a good reason to do that, but I don't know much about poetry.   

Redoubt sending steam and ash south over Illiamna in winter of 08-09

Into the Woods - (William Trost Richards - 1860)

LINES WRITTEN IN EARLY SPRING

By  William Wordsworth

         I HEARD a thousand blended notes, 

         While in a grove I sate reclined, 

         In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts 

         Bring sad thoughts to the mind. 

         To her fair works did Nature link 

         The human soul that through me ran; 

         And much it grieved my heart to think 

         What man has made of man. 

         Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, 

         The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;                         

         And 'tis my faith that every flower 

         Enjoys the air it breathes. 

         The birds around me hopped and played, 

         Their thoughts I cannot measure:-- 

         But the least motion which they made 

         It seemed a thrill of pleasure. 

         The budding twigs spread out their fan, 

         To catch the breezy air; 

         And I must think, do all I can, 

         That there was pleasure there.                               

         If this belief from heaven be sent, 

         If such be Nature's holy plan, 

         Have I not reason to lament 

         What man has made of man?

I always aspired to making nice photographs and thought Lumen Scriptor would be a great name for a business or blog because, as photographer comes from Greek for "light writer", Lumen Scriptor is Latin for the same. I'm not a linguist so if anyone recognizes that Lumen Scriptor in fact means "moon beam scribbler" or "bright wrote" I wish you'd write and let me know.

Lumen Scriptor would also be a great name for a blog about the Way the Truth and the Light and as I have come to aspire to knowing the Father by that Light more than photoing graphics with sun light....maybe I have an idea for my next blog.

OK, OK. Uhhhh.......I dunknow.