My Heart is Like a Singing Bird

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On this Valentine’s Day, a poem by Christina Rossetti, and a painting.

For another beautiful Valentine poem, and a different painting, please see The Song of Wandering Aengus.

QueenOfLove

My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water’d shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these,
Because my love is come to me.

Raise me a daïs of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.

—Christina Rossetti (1830-1894)

CakeGreenBill
CakeBalloons2Jack

 

Winter Solstice

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On this shortest day and longest night of the year in the Northern Hemisphere, I post a light-in-darkness painting (one of a series currently in progress based on Washington National Cathedral) and a poem by Patrick Kavanaugh. In celebration of the solstice, look for shooting stars tonight and tomorrow in the constellation Ursa Minor.

Last year, the solstice fell, for the first time since 1638, on the day of a lunar eclipse. For a sketch in honor of this event, please see Winter Solstice/Lunar Eclipse.

StainedGlassLight

A Star

Beauty was that
Far vanished flame,
Call it a star
Wanting better name.

And gaze and gaze
Vaguely until
Nothing is left
Save a grey ghost-hill.

Here wait I
On the world’s rim
Stretching out hands
To Seraphim.

—Patrick Kavanaugh

Move Eastward, Happy Earth

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In honor of the birthday today of Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809-1892), I post this painting and poem—also suitably celebratory for Trish and Jason’s anniversary.

PurpleSunrise

Move eastward, happy earth, and leave
Yon orange sunset waning slow:
From fringes of the faded eve,
O, happy planet, eastward go:
Till over thy dark shoulder glow
Thy silver sister world, and rise
To glass herself in dewey eyes
That watch me from the glen below.
 
Ah, bear me with thee, lightly borne,
Dip forward under starry light,
And move me to my marriage-morn,
And round again to happy night.

—Alfred, Lord Tennyson

CakeWeddingTrish & Jason

CakeDotsEarl

Bastille Day

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Radishes

In honor of the day I post this painting, featuring, among other things, our ratty yet beloved old Paris guide to arrondissements. This morning we hung from the porch our homemade French flag and put Edith Piaf on the CD player. For dinner I will make a soufflé (not exactly a dish suited to July, but definitely a family favorite) and we’ll watch “Casablanca” and sing along during the Marseillaise scene. Vive la France!

This image is available as a high-resolution print on 8.5″ x 11″ archival paper.

The Longest Day

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OrangeSun

Today I plan to dress in yellow, carry freshly baked corn muffins from door to door, and oblige everyone in my family to step outside and leap over a big fat candle in lieu of a giant bonfire (which would be frowned upon by the city government) to bring us luck in the coming year. Yes! today is the solstice, and, in the northern hemisphere, the longest day of the year and the first day of summer. Make the most of your long lovely light evening, because starting tomorrow, the days will begin to grow shorter again. Happy Summer!

Flow’ry May

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Clematis, pansies, primroses, lily-of-the-valley: our tiny city garden is bursting into bloom.

For today, a sketch and a poem.

Clematis

Now the bright morning star, day’s harbinger,
Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her
The flow’ry May, who from her green lap throws
The yellow cowslip and the pale primrose.
Hail, bounteous May, thou dost inspire
Mirth and youth and warm desire!
Woods and groves are of thy dressing,
Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing.
Thus we salute thee with our early song,
And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

—John Milton (1608-1674)

CakeLilyValleyJacqui

CakeVioletsAunt Francie

Dogwood Season

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DogwoodTree

The cherry blossoms are succeeded now by the dogwood—not a very poetic name for so lovely and graceful a tree. Around here we see a lot of the native Cornus Florida, the state tree of Virginia. (This sketch is from our apparently never-ending homeschooling Botany block. And a marvelous excuse it is for going outside on a spring day to draw instead of practicing decimal fractions…)

For guidance in planting native trees, plus the encouraging possibility of coupons and rebates, don’t forget to check out Casey Trees and, if you are a Maryland resident, the Leaves for Neighborhoods program.

Today is also the anniversary of Maryland’s ratification of the Constitution. For a mini-history with sketches, please see Maryland, My Maryland.

CakeRedRosesEdith

This image is available as a high-resolution print on 8.5″ x 11″ archival paper.


Neighborhood in Bloom

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CherryTree

To give the dog his four daily walks is no fun for anybody, including the dog, when it’s under the blazing August sun or an icy November rain. But what a pleasure it is in spring, when each walk brings a surprise, and the buds of a morning walk have unfolded into pale pink blossom by afternoon.

This is a sketch of a neighborhood tree from our homeschooling Botany block.

If you want to plant a tree in your DC garden this spring, Casey Trees, which was founded in 2002 to protect the city’s tree canopy, is offering a rebate of up to $50 per tree (three trees maximum). Now is the time to ensure the cool, leafy green shade of summer.

Today is the birthday of Washington, DC carpenter and builder Harry Wardman (1872-1938), who is responsible for many of our neighborhood’s houses (although once he achieved success he no longer wielded the hammer personally). For a picture and bio, please see Wild About Harry.

CakeSprinklesGreg

Dancing with the Daffodils

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I post this ever-so-timely poem, along with a sketch of a neighbor’s garden, in honor of William Wordsworth (1770-1850), whose birthday it is today.

Daffodils2

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed–and gazed–but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

—William Wordsworth

For another Wordworth poem, a bio, and a painting, please see My Heart Leaps Up.