A glance out the window this morning as I got up saw the garden covered in a frosted mantle of white . . . sparking glitter glass . . . each branch and errant leaf and twig, blade and seed pod seemingly dusted with shards of candied sugar . . .
So beautiful to the eye.
The magic lies in what is not seen by the eye . . . the roots and bulbs waiting their hour beneath all the crystal lace which gilds the surface just a few inches above where they lay asleep . . .
The ground beneath is already pregnant with potential life . . . under this sheath of crystal ice lies all the glory of the spring and summer to come . . .
The blue steeples of the delphinium, crimson poppies and pink peonies . . . the lupins of May and the roses of June . . . they sleep and wait . . .
This shroud of glass they wear at the moment . . . it is no shroud of death that wraps the silent garden that sleeps.
A warm feathery eiderdown devised by Nature for her own secret purposes . . .
Tree has blossomed overnight . . . each twig frozen and garlanded with crystal sprays that sparkle in the light of sun . . . like precious jewels. Each sprig and leaf tipped with buds of rime . . .
Winter's strange burgeonings . . . as beautiful and as lovely as the tender buds of a springtime display of flowering plum . . . or the cherry petal snow of May . . .
And on the frosted panes I can trace with fingertip, where silver branches interlace and twine together . . . a fairy orchard white with frost, embossed on pane of glass . . . here but for a moment, and then in the next . . . gone . . .
Was it ever really here . . .
My brush may not be dipped in white glitter like Jack Frost's but I do believe magic springs from it's bristles all the same. This is the little picture I did yesterday afternoon. I quite like it . . .
I just wish I could do something with all of this . . .
We watched a very disconcerting program on the telly last night about the magician Dynamo. He was doing incredible things, reading people's minds and putting their cell phones into beer bottles, bending wine glasses and all sorts. It culminated with him walking part of the way across the Thames on top of the water. He has really wierd eyes. He kept asking the people to look in his eyes. It was all quite creepy I thought. I didn't like it. I was afraid I would have nightmares last night, which thankfully I didn't. Has anyone else seen him? I wonder what you thought if you did?
This is a bit more than parlour tricks . . .
A thought to carry with you through today . . .
*•♥*¨`*•ღღ
I am only one, but still I am one.
I cannot do everything,
but still I can do SOMETHING
and just because I cannot do everything...
I will not refuse to do the something
that I can do!
~Helen Keller .*•♥*¨`*•ღღ
That is the power of one!
In The English Kitchen today . . . Cupcake Madeleines! Deliciously easy to create!
Have a fabulous Sunday!
PS - This was supposed to post yesterday, but didn't. I must not have clicked the publish button! My brain . . . it is not all it's cracked up to be! xxoo
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