Feeling whimsical

Jessie Willcox Smith – The Flowers, A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson, 1905

Thanks for the inspiration, Ravenous Butterflies! This put me back in touch with the “me” that believes in fairies and devas and the little people.


All the names I know from nurse: 
Gardener’s garters, Shepherd’s purse, 
Bachelor’s buttons, Lady’s smock, 
And the Lady Hollyhock.

Fairy places, fairy things, 
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, 
Tiny trees for tiny dames— 
These must all be fairy names!

Tiny woods below whose boughs 
Shady fairies weave a house; 
Tiny tree-tops, rose or thyme, 
Where the braver fairies climb!

Fair are grown-up people’s trees, 
But the fairest woods are these; 
Where, if I were not so tall, 
I should live for good and all.

— The Flowers, from A Child’s Garden of Verses by Robert Louis Stevenson

Thoughts on a windy day

It was quite windy when I took my walk this morning and I found myself stopping a few times to simply watch and listen to the wind in the trees.

Which got me to thinking about a half-remembered poem from childhood. The little bit I recalled spoke of how we know the wind is there even when we can’t see it, because of the effect it has on the things we can see.

And I realized that this also describes how I know God is there, because of the effect on things (especially myself and other people) that I can see. And by the changes I’ve experienced as a result.

I searched for the poem, of course! My recollection of it was pretty sketchy, but it might very well be the poem below.

The Wind

BY ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
I saw you toss the kites on high
And blow the birds about the sky;
And all around I heard you pass,
Like ladies’ skirts across the grass—
      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
      O wind, that sings so loud a song!


I saw the different things you did,
But always you yourself you hid.
I felt you push, I heard you call,
I could not see yourself at all—
      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
      O wind, that sings so loud a song!


O you that are so strong and cold,
O blower, are you young or old?
Are you a beast of field and tree,
Or just a stronger child than me?
      O wind, a-blowing all day long,
      O wind, that sings so loud a song!

Fun with shadows

Seeing this darling video brought back memories of a poem remembered from childhood. Hope you enjoy both video and poem.

My Shadow by Robert Louis Stevenson

I have a little shadow that goes in and out with me,
And what can be the use of him is more than I can see.
He is very, very like me from the heels up to the head;
And I see him jump before me, when I jump into my bed.

The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow— 
Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow;
For he sometimes shoots up taller like an India-rubber ball,
And he sometimes gets so little that there’s none of him at all.

He hasn’t got a notion of how children ought to play,
And can only make a fool of me in every sort of way. 
He stays so close beside me, he’s a coward you can see;
I’d think shame to stick to nursie as that shadow sticks to me!

One morning, very early, before the sun was up,
I rose and found the shining dew on every buttercup;
But my lazy little shadow, like an arrant sleepy-head, 
Had stayed at home behind me and was fast asleep in bed.