How public, like a frog
To tell your name the livelong day
To an admiring bog!
— Emily Dickinson
“November — with uncanny witchery in its changed trees. With murky red sunsets flaming in smoky crimson behind the westering hills. With dear days when the austere woods were beautiful and gracious in a dignified serenity of folded hands and closed eyes — days full of fine, pale sunshine that sifted through the late, leafless gold of the juniper-trees and glimmered among the grey beeches, lighting up evergreen banks of moss and washing the colonnades of the pines. Days with a high-sprung sky of flawless turquoise. Days when an exquisite melancholy seemed to hang over the landscape and dream about the lake. But days, too, of the wild blackness of great autumn storms, followed by dank, wet, streaming nights when there was witch-laughter in the pines and fitful moans among the mainland trees”
debinthewind liked this
neverenoughxp reblogged this from mhalachai
neverenoughxp liked this
mybrainisalibrary liked this
softlypause reblogged this from the-old-fashioned-girl
softlypause liked this
lady-merian liked this
rooseltheweasel liked this
littlewomenpodcast reblogged this from the-old-fashioned-girl
scarvenartist liked this
isfjmel-phleg liked this
yanarome liked this
rinkafushi liked this
blurrygapz liked this
jedipriestess reblogged this from hanmii
thanapoochie reblogged this from hanmii Loading posts...