Such a funny thing how one’s perception of time can be altered so differently by something so applicable and true to me. When i am in your arms the any form of time and space cease to become prevalent
Ada or Ardor: A Family Chronicle, Vladimir Nabokov
Plant of the Day
Saturday 8 March 2025
Outside a greengrocers shop in Deal, Kent, were these colourful pots of Anemone coronaria (garden anemone, poppy windflower, St Brigid's anemone). There was a great range of bright shallowly cup-shaped flowers in red, violet-blue and white which were all attracting the local bees.
Jill Raggett
ʙᴏᴛᴀɴʏ ᴘᴛ. 2
P.D. As a continuation of this post...
Even if this is an opinion to others it’s factual to me. Nothing to me can replicate that feeling so easily
intertwining fingers is the physical form of merging souls
Where my soul, mind, and heart live in ungrateful complacency. The storms and strangers that have stayed with, taken refuge, and looked to it for guidance. It seems to continue to bear it all so far. The eroded exposed stone, walls and wooden ceilings repaired year after year. Paint washed or chipped, but always remaining a lighthouse for all. The light is small inside though. Even when that little light goes out, it only is relit by graciousness of inner strength, or more often through the words/actions of those who have enough light burning within them to share.
May I learn to not be just a lighthouse keeper, guider, or shelter. May I forever grow to be a compassionate ever learning student of the world, of others who share this same light
lighthouse study. started in sketchbook and finished in procreate
by nathanaelbillings
The land whispers ancient stories
@peaklass
💘
Taking notes📝
home library so I never have to leave the house 📚