Apples with napkin, by Paul Cézanne
And today, once again, a new morning: bright, with close, rounded clouds that frame expanses of the immeasurably deep sky. Agitation in the treetops. In everything else, restfulness. Windfall of apples. The grass softly invites you to walk out of the house. The dimness inside is alive with lights on antique silver, and their reflections in the looking glass confuse the eye as to what is enclosed within the mirror's frame.
There are so many days here, none like any other. And beneath all their differences is this great similarity: the gratitude in which they are received.
Early Journals
Wonderful thoughts here! ". . . so many days here, none like any other." and yet all days leave us in a state of gratitude and wonder.
ReplyDeleteDelightful and delicious.
ReplyDeleteThe grass is like a child :)
ReplyDeletethis is so entirely like the day just passed and the day before it! lovely. steven
ReplyDeleteYes. I was grateful for today. And I am so grateful for Rilke's description...
ReplyDelete