Springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest:
The soul, uneasy and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.
An Essay on Man
Epistle I, 1733
in the afternoon
November 4, 2007
Could you be carrying this last rose of summer thing too far..?ReplyDelete
Has Viennese weltschmertz gotten a hold on you instead of Viennoiserie...
Back to the Cafe I say!
That's an order!
And where is dear Maxi?
IN and OUT:ReplyDelete
I must confess, I had virtually no time or energy to dig for anything other. Oh well, the roses are on their way out of town now, natural attrition, you know. I am hanging on to them for dear life, fretting about the frost that will come rather sooner then later. A cold front with high winds is blowing through town, stripping the trees of their leaves. So, not much of autumn's left, even less of the roses. I walked down the Strudlhof Steps one last time, with the leaves still falling. :-)
Kaffeehaus visiting is out for at least another day.
Christmas chandeliers are on their way in. I photographed them already, not lighted yet, but thought that would be too depressing, seeing Christmas rolling in with force. I am ready to bake a chicken for Thanksgiving this year (don't tell my kids! *g*).
Have any of you ever wished for a little boredom every now and then? Is it a sign of stress if you never get bored, or simply bad time management?
Have a good rest of the day or evening, wherever you are. I will try to honor your comments on the previous post later at night.
Merisi - I too am wishing for boredom and just TIME. I hope you also have a good rest. Don't worry about the kaffehaus - it will still be there and so will those of us who so enjoy your photos :)ReplyDelete
The withered roses are still beautiful. Love the quote too!ReplyDelete
oh, they look so sad ;( There is always next year!!!!ReplyDelete
is it a sign of stress? yep.... you bet.ReplyDelete
I am never bored and ALWAYS stressed...
Beautiful faded roses. There really is beauty still in them. Nice shots.ReplyDelete
There were beautiful roses in Paris... They were from Ecuador! You could run there :)ReplyDelete
Of course they are beautiful.
Do you know the wonderful poem by Gerard Manley Hoppkins,
Spring and Fall: To a Young Child
MARGARET, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
You would like it.
I really love these strange roses!ReplyDelete
Nobobdy but you are portraying them!
There's something truly lovely about fading roses. They are like antiques and remind me of the opening lines of an Amy Lowell poem:ReplyDelete
You are beautiful and faded,
Like an old opera tune...
Oh no ParisBreakfast.....there can never be too many roses. I have one sprinkeled in snow in my blog today.....ReplyDelete