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There’s just no accounting for happiness
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.
from Happiness by Jane Kenyon
It was a day of happiness and it was wonderful!
07 Wednesday Oct 2020
Posted in Design, Fashion, Photography, Reflections, Writing
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There’s just no accounting for happiness
or the way it turns up like a prodigal
who comes back to the dust at your feet
having squandered a fortune far away.
from Happiness by Jane Kenyon
It was a day of happiness and it was wonderful!
20 Friday Mar 2015
Posted in Photography, Reflections, Writing
≈ Comments Off on Another spring…
Another Spring
If I might see another Spring,
I’d not plant summer flowers and wait:
I’d have my crocuses at once,
My leafless pink mezereons,
My chill-veined snow-drops, choicer yet
My white or azure violet,
Leaf-nested primrose; anything
To blow at once, not late.
If I might see another Spring
I’d listen to the daylight birds
That build their nests and pair and sing,
Nor wait for mateless nightingale;
I’d listen to the lusty herds,
The ewes with lambs as white as snow,
I’d find out music in the hail
And all the winds that blow.
If I might see another Spring –
Oh stinging comment on my past
That all my past results in “if” –
If I might see another Spring,
I’d laugh to-day, to-day is brief;
I would not wait for anything:
I’d use to-day that cannot last,
Be glad to-day and sing.
By Christina Rossetti
Savoring the signs of spring…
21 Saturday Dec 2013
Posted in Art, Reflections, Relationships, Writing
≈ Comments Off on You, on the other side…
16 Friday Aug 2013
Posted in Aging, Art, Design, Garden, Reflections
≈ Comments Off on A life worth living…
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African White Iris © Joan Currie
When Summer, lingering half-forlorn,
On Autumn loves to lean,
And fields of slowly yellowing corn
Are girt by woods still green;
When hazel-nuts wax brown and plump,
And apples rosy-red,
And the owlet hoots from hollow stump,
And the dormouse makes its bed;
from Is Life Worth Living? – by Alfred Austin
This poem brought me back to the delicious summers of my childhood…

07 Wednesday Aug 2013
Posted in Aging, Art, Fashion, Photography, Reflections, Relationships, Writing
≈ Comments Off on A lasting fragrance…
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Aging, Fashion, Lauren DiMarco, Longfellow, Photography, Poetry, Time

Party dress @ Joan Currie
Maiden, that read’st this simple rhyme, Enjoy thy youth, it will not stay; Enjoy the fragrance of thy prime, For oh, it is not always May!
from It Is Not Always May by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Sometimes it is hard not to lament the passing of time…
02 Saturday Feb 2013
Posted in Fashion, Photography, Relationships
≈ Comments Off on Beautiful Standing Pretty…

Lauren DiMarco in Joshua Tree
What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it hath sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.
from the poem Waiting by John Burroughs
Still hopeful that you will stand by my side one day…
31 Wednesday Oct 2012
Posted in Design, Fashion, Photography, Reflections, Writing
≈ Comments Off on Hallowe’en…
To work magic is to weave the unseen forces into form; to soar beyond sight; to explore the uncharted dream realm of the hidden reality. – Starhawk from Simple Abundance by Sarah Ban Breathnach
My childhood Hallowe’en costumes were always some variation on the witch theme, with the capes becoming more and more elaborate as the years went on. I think I fared better than my siblings who opted for ghost garb.
28 Friday Sep 2012
Posted in Fashion, Photography, Reflections, Relationships, Writing
≈ Comments Off on Red hot…
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That I did always love
I bring thee Proof
That till I loved
I never lived-Enough-
from That I did always love by Emily Dickinson
Perhaps it is time to turn up the heat…
16 Thursday Aug 2012
Posted in Art, Design, Photography, Reflections, Relationships
≈ Comments Off on Memory overload…

Lauren DiMarco in Vancouver © Joan Currie
Her memory from old habit of the mind
Went slipping back upon the golden days
In which she saw him first,…
from The Idylls of the King – Guinevere by Tennyson
I remember first seeing him standing in the doorway of the dockside restaurant.
06 Monday Aug 2012
Posted in Design, Fashion, Photography, Reflections, Writing

© Joan Currie
When the rose is faded,
Memory may still dwell on
Her beauty shadowed,
And the sweet smell gone.
from When the Rose is Faded by Walter de la Mare
Tears came to my eyes when I found a keepsake box containing a pink sweetheart rose from my first prom corsage. It is lovely still!