Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Interesting rusts in the front garden of an Arthurs Seat home. Can anyone tell me just what they are? A sickle and roller?
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Odd Shot Monday prompt
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Precious rusts
Precious memories
Precious aging golds
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Pic by Gemma Wiseman ~ Another view of rusts, highlighting the 4 leaf clover shape
I measure out my life with haiku. My camera films my soul. ~ Gemma Wiseman
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Monday, August 4, 2008
Precious Rusts
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Archive of Blog Quotes
- A perfect summer day is when the sun is shining, the breeze is blowing, the birds are singing, and the lawn mower is broken. ~James Dent
- Autumn is an introspective season when stray thoughts of the mind dive into the mystique of the soul - Gemma Wiseman
- Autumn is the bridesmaid of Summer and the flowergirl of Winter ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Autumn whispers the tones of yesterday in a minor key ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Love is born / With a dark and troubled face, / When hope is dead / And in the most unlikely place; / Love is born, / Love is always born. - Michael Leunig's Christmas Song Cycle "Southern Star"
- Spring paints the stars of heaven in Earth colours ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Summer sizzles with a sibilant hush / Broken by dreams of / Clinking ice ~ Gemma Wiseman
- The object of a new year is not that we should have a new year. It is that we should have a new soul. - G.K. Chesterton
- Winter is an etching, spring a watercolor, summer an oil painting and autumn a mosaic of them all. - Stanley Horowitz
- Winter is the fire, simmering lonely in the soul ~ Gemma Wiseman
- Winter is the shadow, the etching of the seasons in the mist ~ Gemma Wiseman
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7 comments:
I suppose the roller is to tamp down the earth after planting the wheat (or whatever) and the sickle to harvest the same later. Only a guess from a suburban dweller.
Gemma,
I could sense the double meaning concealed within the obvious. The true meaning surfacing from what is seen by the eyes. I look at the rich imagery of this poem from a quite different light.
This poem is about aging, not as shown in the picture, not as painted by your words but what emerge from my mind as I read it.
This is about aging - ours - of us humans. What is age but number, within those numbers we lived are precious memories. Beneath the wilting physical human forms are hearts of gold that endured the seasons and encase treasures of experience and wisdom.
For the words wasted, wilted, aged, could also mean: Accomplished.
I wish you well.
~ Jeques
I need one of them...what would shipping be to the states...LOL...now this is my kinda goods...those are used to flatten down the soil after construction, they weigh a ton. My Grandaddy had one and my Brother an I couldn't budge it together. He used to roll it over mole hills to flatten them so he could mow, my Brother just wanted to roll it over MY toys...bad brother!
A little piece of nostalgia from the Midwest.
sharon
Oh wow! This is such a good shot! I haven't been able to join odd shots but I need to do one soon.
that's a nice pic!
mine's up too...
http://growingupwithbea.blogspot.com/2008/08/odd-shots-on-monday.html
A 4 Leaf clover in any form is a lucky find. Very unusual.
A scythe rather than a sickle. A neighbor had one which she donated to the local small town museum. They look dangerous.
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