Seanberry's

Well, just imagine this were ...

... the last strawberry of this year - which it is not :)

Here's waiting the future red currant jelly.

Ah, how beautiful ... how delicious ...

... and the morello cherries, ...

... and ... ah! the black currant ...

... well, and about two weeks later I shall run
the risk to fall off the ladder when
picking - almost :) - the sweetest of all cherries.

A perfect story

The perfect story contains - as everybody knows - of sex, crime, politics, religion and nobility.
Voilà:
I believe the thyme spake to the wasp: It's no crime when you take me deep, Mylady.


And may I assure you that by telling we had lousy few strawberries this year, so that we not even once had strawberry cake with whipped cream up til now, nor made 25 glasses of strawberryberry jam, nor ate any just so or with milk or with whipped cream, I am as honest as Ajatollah Khamenei, Barak Osama and Vladimir Putin (please add any name you come to think of).

Summer in Seanhenge

Like any day I could focus tonight on what happens / happened in the world - generally and in particular. And yes: Almost every day my fingers go all tingly.
However, for several reasons I do mostly - like this evening - calm my fingers down.
Firstly, as I assume that most visitors do follow the news and mainly because those who are following this blog in the past two years will find it not difficult to imagine what I think about this and that, anyway.
So let me end this with what you will also know: I am thankful (ha ha, please don't ask this agnostic to whom ...) that no loving or not-loving mother in China, Ruanda, U.S.A., Iran or Russia (to name but a few countries*) let me see the world, but that I was and (still) am allowed to live where I am ... to live another summer in what once I started to call Seanhenge.

Sean's rowan

Gentian

Poppies

Buttercup

Zinnia

Jasmine

Campanula Persicifolia Blue

Fuchsias & Geranium

Lilies& Aquilelia

*Those who think they found an interesting point to discuss are wholeheartedly invited to (politely) attack me. :)

Rose is not rose is ...

... not rose, in so far as they are so different, hm? :)

Far be it from me, though, to contradict Gertrude Stein who in a certain context coined the phrase 'A rose is a rose is a rose'.

So, please don't feel metagobrolized*.

Actually, I chose the title just in order not to plagiarise jmb.






* with thanks to Stan. By the way, those who wish to join us on our humble quest to resurrect this rose amongst words, are most welcome. Just sign in via the comment-section to this brilliant article.

Just in case you don't know ...

... what day we have.

Ah, a Joycean you might think. Well, there's also one book to be seen that's not written by or about Joyce.
It is said had he not been ding-dong Joyce would have written like this very gentleman. :)

Click to enlarge.

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When the mirror speaks the truth

Germany 1953, Hungary 1956, Czechoslovakia 1968, Chile 1973-1990, Argentina 1976-1983 , etc. etc. ..., not to forget the so-called Congo-Crisis which by no means ended in 1966, Cambodia 1975-1979, Ruanda 1994 etc. etc. ...

... (almost) whenever criminals in power are being told by their people they are not the fairest in the land, they do behave like a certain stepmother.

And now in Iran?

To cut it short, as you will know the latest news:
The Iranian opposition is said to claim (regarding to their reliable sources within the interior ministry) Mousavi got 19 m votes, Ahmadinejad less than 6 m.
Given that comes close to the truth it is doubtable that the official result could be prepared without Khamenei's placet.

Still ... I'd like what right now is happening in Iran to end like what happened in Europe in 1989 rather than what happened on the Place of Heavenly Peace.

I really hope so, the more as one can hear from so-call US-strategy think tanks they'd prefer Ahmahdinejad to remain in power, as (whatever) sanctions would be easier to launch.
Same goes obviously with the falcons in Israel.

Flowers in Love

As I like it

Thyme is her theme

Now, who dies first?*

* The Masters of War (and I mean all of them - those who are and those to come) or ... hope?

Love is not all

After Yeats - for a beginning - Chris chose a poetess:

So head over to God-free Morals and enjoy listening to Edna St. Vincent Millay.

Gore's greatest gesture

The United States government and Western rights groups protested* today after North Korea’s highest court sentenced two American journalists to 12 years of hard labo(u)r [and re-education; sj].

The two journalists [from Current TV; sj] — Laura King and Euna Lee — were detained by North Korean soldiers at the Chinese border on March 17 and charged with illegally entering North Korean territory and "hostile acts," but not with the more serious charge of espionage as some had feared**.
Full NYT-article here.

You'll find mentioned that Al Gore, the knight in the rainbow-coloured armour who's greatest success in his struggle to save the planet is to be found on his different bank accounts, is co-founder of Current TV.
Further you'll read that Mr Gore claims he has been 'deeply involved every single day' [since March 17th; sj] to free the journalists, and is being mentioned as a possible special envoy.

What is not mentioned is that the honourable Mr. Gore after consultations with his PR-advisors is going to offer serving 24 years in said labour and re-education camp, in exchange for the two ladies.
A noble gesture, would you agree?

- - -

* Now that will teach them!

** Well why else would they've got such a mild punishment?

Expounder of the soul

On his 190th birthday (May 31st) I posted what could be taken as Walt Whitman's legacy to Poets to come.
And here's - as announced - one by a 'poet who came' :)

Il Poeta*

Si dilata il sé
in un'intricata visione
di sogni sospesi:
il reale si scioglie
in mille rivoli
di un policromo prisma,
illuminato da un sole,
eternamente presente
tra i chiaroscuri della vita.

The Poet

He expounds the soul
in a tangled vision
of abandoned dreams:
reality melts
into the thousand streams
of an many-coloured prism,
lit by the sun
which is always there
amidst the light and shade of life.

* from Il Profumo del Pensiero / The Essence of Thoughts
Poems by Antonio Lonardo with English translations by Pat Eggleton.