Day 43 of 366: Split in Two

It was another one of those days. I had too much to do, so I didn't have much time left for driving anywhere far to take photographs. So I had quick walk round our neighbourhood, and fortunately found a few interesting details. This one is my favourite one. It is just a little detail in a wooden fence, but I loved the heart shape split in two, the texture and the colours. Little things.

Split in Two

There are quite a few silver birches growing along the streets around us. They are such beautiful trees, and their bark is full of fascinating details, especially in winter when the old dead layers peel off and reveal the fresh new ones with lovely subtle colours.

With a little TLC, silver birch trees can take your breath away.

Alan Titchmarsh

The spring is definitely on its way. Flowers and blooms make the streets much brighter and more pleasant to walk along.

Flowers have spoken to me more than I can tell in written words. They are the hieroglyphics of angels, loved by all men for the beauty of the character, though few can decipher even fragments of their meaning.

Lydia M. Child

In the end I wandered back to the cemetery. It was the last peaceful stop before going back to the busy reality.

Don't die old, die empty. That's the goal of life. Go to the cemetery and disappoint the graveyard.

Myles Munroe
The world may never notice
If a Snowdrop doesn't bloom,
Or even pause to wonder
If the petals fall too soon.

But every life that ever forms,
Or ever comes to be,
Touches the world in some small way
For all eternity.

The little one we longed for
Was swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.

And though our arms are empty,
Our hearts know what to do.
For every beating of our hearts
Says that we love you.

Unknown

I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.

Michelangelo
If I have freedom in my love,
And in my soul am free,
Angels alone that soar above,
Enjoy such liberty.

Richard Lovelace

He spake well who said that graves are the footprints of angels.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Share this story

Comments Expand -
Add a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *