When it comes, the landscape listens ––
Shadows –– hold their breath ––
When it goes, 'tis like the Distance
On the look of Death ––

from 258– Emily Dickinson

We forget that the water cycle and the life cycle are one

~Jacques Cousteau

Water drops have new meaning since my friend, Joanie, sent me a link to this tutorial, by Steve Wall. The drop here is melted frost.

Yes, we had a heavy frost. It even snowed on Mount Diablo, and the surrounding ring of rolling hills. Did I take pictures? No. Did my friend who has devoted her life to photographing Mount Diablo take pictures? No. (Her car was in for service that day.) You do want to see our snowy mountain, don't you? Take a look here. This view is only a few miles from where I live.

In Nature's poem flowers have each their word
The rose of love and beauty sings alone;
The violet's soul exhales in tenderest tone;
The lily's one pure simple note heard.
The cold Camellia only, stiff and white,
Rose without perfume, lily without grace,
When chilling winter shows his icy face,
Blooms for a world that vainly seeks delight.
Yet, in a theatre, or ball-room light,
I gladly see Camellias shining bright
Above some stately woman's raven hair,
Whose noble form fufils the heart's desire,
Like Grecian marbles warmed by Phidian fire.

THE CAMELLIA by Honore de Balzac

What a world we live in. Looking at white camellias out my office window, I remembered this photo, and thought it might be nice for a post today. I wondered if I could possibly find a camellia poem. Google "camellia poem," and what do a get? A masterpiece.

Camellias are both gorgeous and strange. Place one in a bowl of water and it's heavenly for a day, but on the second day, the life force goes, and the flower just sits there. No it's not a rose, and yes Honore it has no perfume, but if you need a bloom, or even many, when the roses are asleep, they oblige. Camellias are also cherished shrubs with beautiful shiny leaves.