My following post should probably be read first.
I am irrepressably drawn to the area just south of the island. There is a small wine vineyard connected to a corn field, and I have always felt a connection to this area, especially at this time of year when the smells of burning leaves and the juices bursting forth from swollen purple grapes mixes with the damp earth. I find myself rejoicing in being home after a long day in the Gommorrah of WMU. I have stoof there and watched the perfect aztec blanket sunset framing a small sliver of a moon paired with the evening star just appearing and raised my arms to God and to the sky, finally knowing what Millay meant in the words "O World, I cannot hold thee close enough." I knew that living in my coffin of an apartment had stunted my primal health, and that I could not stand to only be able to look out of one side of the building- and that view was of a parking lot. And yet I didn't have full comprehension of how much the lack of nature- loss of the vineyard, the sky the field, the lake had affected me until I came back to Treasure Island. I am awed once again by the many moods of the lake, by the rhythmic waves blurring the image of the image of the moon on the water. By the splash of a fish catching an early morning meal, the way that one side of the lake can be shrouded by clouds overhead, and the other side relfecting steely gray and gold in the sunlight. I know I sound rather pompous here, but I cannot seem to hold my spirit in check when the skys open up with rain, and yet is still warm enough to be outside enjoying it. How blessed are we to live in a state where we get to ecperience so many facets of who God is, byut getting to see how He has created the seasons. If a painting is at its core an expression of the artist, then are we not given afuller picture of the love and creativity of our Lord than even California or other so-called paradises? Just a thought, and one that I'm sure will ebb around January when I am unearthing my car from mounds of snow for the 36th time.
Poetry of Edna St. Vincent MillayRenascence
God's World
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart, -- Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, -- let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.
http://www.everypoet.com/archive/poetry/Edna_St_Vincent_Millay/edna_st_vincent_millay_gods_world.htm
I am irrepressably drawn to the area just south of the island. There is a small wine vineyard connected to a corn field, and I have always felt a connection to this area, especially at this time of year when the smells of burning leaves and the juices bursting forth from swollen purple grapes mixes with the damp earth. I find myself rejoicing in being home after a long day in the Gommorrah of WMU. I have stoof there and watched the perfect aztec blanket sunset framing a small sliver of a moon paired with the evening star just appearing and raised my arms to God and to the sky, finally knowing what Millay meant in the words "O World, I cannot hold thee close enough." I knew that living in my coffin of an apartment had stunted my primal health, and that I could not stand to only be able to look out of one side of the building- and that view was of a parking lot. And yet I didn't have full comprehension of how much the lack of nature- loss of the vineyard, the sky the field, the lake had affected me until I came back to Treasure Island. I am awed once again by the many moods of the lake, by the rhythmic waves blurring the image of the image of the moon on the water. By the splash of a fish catching an early morning meal, the way that one side of the lake can be shrouded by clouds overhead, and the other side relfecting steely gray and gold in the sunlight. I know I sound rather pompous here, but I cannot seem to hold my spirit in check when the skys open up with rain, and yet is still warm enough to be outside enjoying it. How blessed are we to live in a state where we get to ecperience so many facets of who God is, byut getting to see how He has created the seasons. If a painting is at its core an expression of the artist, then are we not given afuller picture of the love and creativity of our Lord than even California or other so-called paradises? Just a thought, and one that I'm sure will ebb around January when I am unearthing my car from mounds of snow for the 36th time.
Poetry of Edna St. Vincent MillayRenascence
God's World
O world, I cannot hold thee close enough!
Thy winds, thy wide grey skies!
Thy mists, that roll and rise!
Thy woods, this autumn day, that ache and sag
And all but cry with colour! That gaunt crag
To crush! To lift the lean of that black bluff!
World, World, I cannot get thee close enough!
Long have I known a glory in it all,
But never knew I this;
Here such a passion is
As stretcheth me apart, -- Lord, I do fear
Thou'st made the world too beautiful this year;
My soul is all but out of me, -- let fall
No burning leaf; prithee, let no bird call.
http://www.everypoet.com/archive/poetry/Edna_St_Vincent_Millay/edna_st_vincent_millay_gods_world.htm
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