Poem of the Day

Sitting in a Small Screenhouse on a Summer Morning

Ten more miles, it is South Dakota.
Somehow, the roads there turn blue,
When no one walks down them.
One more night of walking, and I could have become
A horse, a blue horse, dancing
Down a road, alone.

I have got this far. It is almost noon. But never mind time:
That is all over.
It is still Minnesota.
Among a few dead cornstalks, the starving shadow
Of a crow leaps to his death.
At least, it is green here,
Although between my body and the elder trees
A savage hornet strains at the wire screen.
He can’t get in yet.

It is so still now, I hear the horse
Clear his nostrils.
He has crept out of the green places behind me.
Patient and affectionate, he reads over my shoulder
These words I have written.
He has lived a long time, and he loves to pretend
No one can see him.
Last night I paused at the edge of darkness,
And slept with green dew, alone.
I have come a long way, to surrender my shadow
To the shadow of a horse.

 James Wright

It is 1 am and my heart is pounding from these words.

On Arches National Park (Part 2)

Yuriy and Julia (i.e. Mr and Mrs Globetrot) took some incredible photos of Arches National Park in Utah. I love this national park (see my earlier post) and having climbed up to view Delicate Arch myself, I can assure you it is every bit as spectacular as these photos.

I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams… (Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince)

On Ball’s Pyramid

The Lord Howe Island Group is situated off the southeastern coast of Australia. Australia, where I have spent many Decembers during my childhood, is a place of many wonders and these islands are no exception. Particular reverence is to be paid to Ball’s Pyramid, a stark, jagged volcanic stack rising steeply from the depths of the Pacific Ocean. Born of an ancient shield volcano and caldera formed 7 million years ago, discovered in 1788, it holds the allure of peaks like the K2 or Everest, a siren call to climbers and adventurers to come forth and conquer it. A team from Sydney finally did, in 1965.

Hatty Gottschalk‘s photographs take us where these adventurers have been.

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“As for me, I am tormented with an everlasting itch for things remote. I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts. – Captain Ahab, Moby Dick”

On the Atacama Desert

The Atacama Desert is the driest non-polar desert in the world. It lies west of the Andes Mountains, on the Chilean coast. It has been described as a desolate lunar landscape on Earth, with lunar rovers being test-run on the terrain. This parched landscape also has its share of geysers and volcanoes, believe it or not. During years where the El Niño effect is especially strong, where the waters off the Peruvian coast warm, the Atacama desert blooms into what is called a “flowering desert” or desierto florido (because Spanish sounds so much more romantic).

The arresting landscape, as seen below in photos taken by Stéphane San Quirce and lepinephotos.

The geological landforms are stunning. Photos by mikkol79gaujourfrancoise,

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The blooming desert after rain, by Miss Mountain and lephinephotos.

And the beautiful Licancubar volcano, by Francoise Gaujour.

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The blue, shimmering Altipatic Lagoon:

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The Paranal observatory situated on a mountain in the desert, that study the skies for worlds vast beyond our imagination, beautifully photographed by Owen Perry or Circa 1983. These deserve a later post all of their own.

On Gingerbread Terrariums, Christmas Wreaths and Robert Frost

I dream of a white Christmas with mugs of hot chocolate by a warm fire. Meanwhile, these gingerbread terrariums by yeh on mynameisyeh are so delicious and pretty to look at.

If you’re inspired by the smell of cinnamon and cloves and fresh pine when you make these terrariums, why not make your own Christmas wreath with the people behind Treasures and Travels.

Not for the first time, I wish I lived in a place with winters and christmas tree farms so I could do Christmassy things like hunting down an innocent tree and asking my imaginary sweater-clad husband to get it into the house, as inspired by the following image from Kinfolk:

Or I could be paddling down half-frozen rivers and watching the snow settle across the land, like David Lindwall below.

What would (imaginary) winters be like without Robert Frost?

Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.

Nugget Point

Nugget Point

One of my favourite places on the South Island. It’s a long dreary drive out, but I promise you that it’s worth it. We were lucky enough to be the only ones at the lookout, with the wind, the ocean and rugged cliffs for company.