calm before the storm and the pier after the storm

October 25, 2010

The sea looked beautiful before the stormy night that followed . . .

 . . . and during the calm before the storm, the second flowering on the cordylines attracted a host of sparrows.  They get right inside the plant and are quite difficult to make out – excellent disguise – but the fluttering and chirping emanating from the plants gave the game away as the the plants come to life. 

So after the windy night, I was glad to see that the skeleton of the pier, with the contorted rib cage like forms, looked reasonably intact, although frail.

 Debris from the fire damage  had been loosened and washed up on the beach overnight.

From a distance, I thought that more debris was floating around on the surface . . .

 . . . but then realised that some intrepid surfers were at it . . . rather Venetian . . .

 . . and in the Old Town, a pair of sun bathers were resting on the roof of a car. The gulls like the warmth of the metal and the rather superior vantage point  . . .

 . .  a young ‘resident’ . . .

 . . and two ‘old birds’.

 Fantastic sunset this evening and the strongest contrast to the night before when all havoc let loose . . .

 . .  such graphic images. The dog walkers start to inhabit the shore line at low tide and often there are more dogs than humans.

Invitation to the Voyage

My daughter, my sister,
Consider the vista
Of living out there, you and I,
To love at our leisure,
Then, ending our pleasure,
In climes you resemble to die.
There the suns, rainy-wet,
Through clouds rise and set
With the selfsame enchantment to charm me
That my senses receive
From your eyes, that deceive,
When they shine through your tears to disarm me.

There’ll be nothing but beauty, wealth, pleasure,
With all things in order and measure.

With old treasures furnished,
By centuries burnished,
To gleam in the shade of our chamber,
While the rarest of flowers
Vaguely mix through the hours
Their own with the perfume of amber:
Each sumptuous ceiling,
Each mirror revealing
The wealth of the East, will be hung
So the part and the whole
May speak to the soul
In its native, indigenous tongue.

There’ll be nothing but beauty, wealth, pleasure,
With all things in order and measure.

On the channels and streams
See each vessel that dreams
In its whimsical vagabond way,
Since its for your least whim
The oceans they swim
From the ends of the night and the day.
The sun, going down, With its glory will crown
Canals, fields, and cities entire,
While the whole earth is rolled
In the jacinth and gold
Of its warming and radiant fire.

There’ll be nothing but beauty, wealth, pleasure
With all things in order and measure.

— Roy Campbell, Poems of Baudelaire

2 Responses to “calm before the storm and the pier after the storm”

  1. Cloudier Says:

    Delicious sunshine ☼


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